CHAPTER 11: JEALOUS
1172 Words
The rumor starts small. Like most rumors at St. Augustine Academy, it begins in the canteen during lunch break—someone at the debate team table laughing too loud, someone else whispering “I saw them again,” and then the phrase spreads like spilled juice across a tray. By the end of the day, it has legs. By the next morning, it’s walking the hallways on its own.
Reagan and Sofia Aquino.
Together again.
Not together-together, according to the version I hear from Andra during homeroom. Just seen. Again. In the debate room after school last Friday. Heads bent over the same laptop. Sofia’s hand on his shoulder this time. Laughing. Close. Like before.
Andra delivers it carefully, sitting on the edge of my desk while the teacher is still in the faculty room.
“People are saying they’re working on some inter-school debate thing. Harvard invite or something. Sofia’s leading it, and she asked Matt to help because he won that national qualifier last year.”
I keep my eyes on my notebook. Pen moving in slow circles. “Okay.”
Andra watches me. “You don’t sound okay.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re doing that thing again. The quiet-staring-at-nothing thing.”
I stop circling. Look up. “It’s nothing. They’re just working.”
She exhales. “Yeah. That’s what I told the girls who asked me. But… you should talk to him.”
“I will.”
I don’t.
The whole day I don’t.
I see him in the hallway between classes. He’s walking with Hiro—debate stuff probably. He spots me. Slows. Nods once. Small almost-smile.
I nod back. Quick. Then turn the corner fast.
Lunch. I sit with Andra near the windows. Eat slowly. Don’t look toward his corner table.
He doesn’t sit there today. He sits with the debate group. Sofia is there. They’re talking. Not touching. But close. Heads leaning in over a notebook.
My stomach twists.
I push my tray away. Half-eaten.
Andra notices. “Zhyra.”
“I’m full.”
“You’re not full. You’re jealous.”
I don’t deny it.
After lunch I skip the library. Go to the old storage classroom on the third floor instead. Sit among broken chairs. Stare at the wall. Phone on silent.
He texts twice.
Zhyra?
Where are you?
I don’t reply.
Tuesday passes the same way.
I avoid the usual spots. Take side stairs. Sit in the back row. Leave class early. Skip roof deck. Skip gate.
He doesn’t chase publicly. Doesn’t make a scene. But I feel him—watching from doorways, from the end of corridors, from across the gym during volleyball practice. He doesn’t approach. Just waits.
I hate that he’s giving me space. Because I don’t want space. I want answers. But I’m too scared to ask.
Wednesday.
Andra corners me in the bathroom during break.
“Two days, Zhyra. Two full days of ghosting him. He looks like he hasn’t slept.”
I wash my hands. Don’t look in the mirror.
“He’s fine.”
“He’s not fine. He asked me yesterday if you were okay. I said you were stressed about rankings. He didn’t believe me.”
I turn off the faucet. “It’s not his fault.”
“Then why are you punishing him?”
I finally look at her. “I’m not punishing him. I’m… scared.”
“Of what?”
“Of finding out I was wrong. That the closeness was just in my head. That Sofia is the kind of girl who fits him better. Smart. Ambitious. Touchy. Confident.”
Andra steps closer. “You’re smart. You’re ambitious. You’re the one he waited for. Not her.”
I swallow. “I know. But seeing them together… it makes me feel small again. Like third place all over.”
She hugs me. Tight.
“Talk to him. Today. After school. Roof deck. Or the gate. Or the damn lighthouse again. Just talk.”
I nod against her shoulder.
“Okay.”
After last period I don’t run.
I go to the roof deck.
He’s already there.
Leaning on the railing. Blazer off. Sleeves rolled. Looking out like he’s been waiting since yesterday.
I walk up slowly. Stop a meter away.
He turns.
“Zhyra.”
His voice is quiet. Controlled. But tired. Dark circles under his eyes. First time I’ve seen them.
I swallow. “Hi.”
Two days of silence stretch between us.
He doesn’t move closer. Just waits.
I take a breath.
“I saw you with Sofia. Again. In the canteen. And I heard people talking. About how you’re always together now. Helping her. Working late.”
He nods once. “We are.”
My chest tightens.
“She’s good for you,” I say. Voice small. “She’s confident. She knows what she wants. She touches you like it’s easy.”
He exhales. Slow.
“She’s a teammate. That’s all.”
“But people say—”
“I don’t care what people say.”
I look at him. “I do. Because it makes me doubt. Makes me think maybe I’m just… convenient. The girl who chased the top rank. And now that I’m close, maybe you’re looking for someone who doesn’t need to chase anymore.”
He steps forward. One step. Then another.
Stops close enough that I can see the tension in his jaw.
“You think I’m looking at Sofia?”
“I don’t know what to think.”
He reaches for my hand. I let him take it.
“I’m looking at you,” he says. Low. Steady. “I’ve been looking at you since the handwriting changed. Since the pendulum graph. Since the acacia tree. Since the lighthouse. Every day. Every hour. It’s you.”
I feel tears prick. “Then why does it feel like I’m losing you?”
“Because you’re running. And I’m letting you. Because I thought you needed space.”
“I don’t want space.”
He pulls me closer. Arms around me. Tight.
“Then stop running.”
I hug back. Face in his chest. Breathe him in—clean laundry, faint cologne, him.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I got jealous. And scared. And stupid.”
He kisses the top of my head. “You’re not stupid. You’re human.”
We stand like that. Wind moving around us.
After a while, he pulls back. Cups my face.
“No more avoiding. If you see something. Hear something. Feel something. Tell me. Even if it hurts. Even if it’s small.”
I nod. “Promise.”
He kisses me. Slow. Deep. Hands in my hair. Mine on his chest.
When we separate, he rests his forehead against mine.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he says. “Not to Sofia. Not to anyone.”
I believe him.
We sit on the ledge. My head on his shoulder. His arm around me.
Sun drops lower.
No more silence.
Just us.
Jealousy fades.
Balance returns.
Stronger.
- Writer
