The Moon Between Us

Chapter 4

Blackpine High was the kind of school you’d expect in a town this size—two stories of faded red brick with mismatched windows and a parking lot full of trucks and rusted sedans. The flag out front was frayed at the edges, and one of the letters on the “BLACKPINE HIGH SCHOOL” sign was hanging by a thread, like it might fall any day now.

Inside, the air smelled faintly of pencil shavings, floor cleaner, and whatever the cafeteria had been cooking since dawn. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, a few flickering every now and then.

“This place hasn’t changed since my freshman year,” Sage said, pushing open the double doors. She sounded almost proud of it. “They keep saying they’re going to renovate, but I’ll believe it when I see it.”

I kept close behind her, my fingers twisting the strap of my backpack. People glanced up as we passed, their eyes catching on me before darting away again. New kid in a small town—it wasn’t hard to guess what they were whispering about.

We stopped at the front office. A tired-looking secretary handed me a folded schedule and a map of the school without looking up from her computer. “Welcome to Blackpine,” she mumbled.

“Thanks,” I said, tucking the papers into my bag.

“First period’s history,” Sage said once we were back in the hall. “It’s upstairs, but I’ll walk you. If anyone gives you trouble, let me know.”

We moved through the crowded hallway—lockers slamming, sneakers squeaking, the hum of voices bouncing off the walls. Sage knew practically everyone, tossing waves and quick greetings like she’d been born here, which, technically, she had.

That’s when I saw him.

Tyler stood near the far end of the hall, one shoulder leaning against a locker, his hands shoved in the pockets of a dark hoodie. His eyes were on me—not curious, not unkind, but steady in a way that made me feel like he already knew me somehow.

Sage didn’t slow down, but I caught the quick flicker of her gaze in his direction before she nudged me forward.

By the time we turned the corner, the weight of his stare had faded, but it lingered in my chest.

The rest of the morning blurred—teachers handing out syllabi, students introducing themselves in quick bursts, the sound of the bell making me jump every time. At lunch, Sage led me to a table in the corner of the cafeteria, the kind with scratched surfaces and seats that wobbled just enough to be annoying.

I’d just set down my tray when something flickered in my peripheral vision—a figure slipping between two rows of tables. It was tall, vaguely human-shaped, but it moved too quickly, almost like it knew I’d seen it and didn’t want to be caught.

I turned my head fully, but there was nothing there. Just a couple of guys arguing over a bag of chips.

My heart was still thudding when Sage sat across from me. “You good?” she asked, pulling apart her sandwich.

“Yeah. Just… thought I saw someone.”

She didn’t push, and I didn’t explain.

The rest of the day was uneventful, in the way first days always are—new faces, awkward small talk, and that constant low buzz of knowing everyone’s watching to see if you fit.

After the final bell, Sage and I walked toward the parking lot. The air had that crisp, late-afternoon bite, and the low winter sun made everything look sharper. Tyler was standing near the edge of the lot, scanning the street like he was waiting for someone.

When our eyes met, he gave me a small nod—just enough to let me know he’d noticed me too.

It wasn’t a greeting. More like an acknowledgment.

And for some reason, it made my pulse quicken. I bite my lip and get in the truck. Sage gives me a half, almost pity smile.

“Tomorrow will be better.” She says as she turns on the truck.

I just lay my head against the cool glass and close my eyes. “Yeah, it could.” Is all I say.