Whispers
512 Words
By the week, everyone would notice what had changed—but who had changed me.
I was quieter than usual. I laughed less with my friends. My eyes wandered more, often drifting to the back of the classroom where Kade sat. I didn’t mean for it to happen. It just did.
And people talk when they notice things.
It started with whispers.
“Why is Lila always looking at him?”
“Does she think she’s special?”
“She doesn’t know who he really is.”
I pretended not to hear them.
Kade and I still didn’t talk much, but sometimes our eyes met in the hallway. Sometimes he held the door open for me. Once, he moved his bag so I could pass easily.
Small things.
But small things can mean everything.
One afternoon, our teacher announced a group assignment. My heart sank when she started calling out names.
“Lila… Kade… you’ll work together.”
The room went quiet.
I felt every eye turn toward me. Some looked shocked. Others looked amused. A few looked annoyed.
Kade glanced at me, unreadable. I forced myself to breathe and nodded.
After class, we met in the library. The space was quiet, filled with the soft sound of turning pages. We sat across from each other, books open, but neither of us spoke at first.
“You can start,” he said.
“So can you,” I replied.
That made him smile—just a little.
We worked slowly, exchanging short sentences. He was smart. Focused. Nothing like the careless troublemaker people described. The more time I spent with him, the more confused I became.
“Why do you keep to yourself?” I asked.
He paused. “It’s easier.”
“Easier than what?”
“Letting people disappoint you.”
His words stayed with me.
The next day, things got worse.
A girl from my class stopped me in the hallway. Her voice was sweet, but her eyes were sharp.
“You should be careful around Kade,” she said. “Girls who get close to him don’t end up happy.”
“Do you know him?” I asked.
She hesitated. “No. But I’ve heard enough.”
That night, I sat on my bed, thinking.
What if they were right?
What if I were walking into something painful?
The next morning, I found Kade sitting alone before class.
“Can I sit here?” I asked.
He looked surprised but nodded.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
“Do the rumors bother you?” I asked quietly.
He looked at me, really looked at me this time.
“They don’t hurt anymore,” he said. “But they keep people away.”
“I’m still here,” I said before I could stop myself.
His eyes softened.
“I know,” he replied.
And in that moment, I understood something important.
Sometimes, the most dangerous thing isn’t the boy everyone warns you about—
It’s choosing to care when the whole world tells you not to.
- Writer
