Evelyn’s Corridor of Time

Chapter 2: The Mask of a Friend

The playground smelled like damp grass and regret, the kind that seeps into your sneakers and weighs down every step. It was late afternoon, the sky a bruised purple, casting long shadows across the patchy field behind the school. I stood in the far corner, where the bleachers sagged under years of rust and neglect, their metal frames groaning whenever the wind kicked up. My white blouse was still a mess from the speech fiasco—missing a button, stained with sweat and a smear of blood from my sliced finger. My pencil skirt clung to my thighs, the fabric creased from sitting on the bathroom floor too long, and my ponytail was unraveling, strands sticking to my damp neck. I looked like I’d been through a war, and in a way, I had.

Maya was late. She’d texted me to meet her here, her message all bubbly and casual: “Hey, Ev, let’s talk, k? playground, 4:30.” I’d almost ignored it, my thumb hovering over the block button after what I’d seen—her and Liam, tangled up in the storage room, plotting my humiliation like it was some twisted game. But I needed answers. I needed to hear it from her lips, see the lie in her eyes. So here I was, pacing the patchy grass, the cold air biting at my exposed collarbone where my blouse gaped open.

When she finally showed up, she was a vision—like always. Her black hair bounced in loose waves, catching the fading light, and her tight red crop top hugged her curves, showing off a sliver of tanned stomach above her ripped jeans. She moved like she owned the world, every step a performance, and I hated how small she made me feel without even trying. She spotted me and flashed that megawatt smile, the one that could charm teachers into extra credit and boys into forgetting their own names.

“Ev! There you are!” she called, her voice bright, like nothing was wrong. She jogged over, her sneakers crunching on the gravel path, and stopped a few feet away, tilting her head. “God, you look like a hot mess. What happened after you bolted?”

I stared at her, my chest tightening. Hot mess. Was that supposed to be a joke? I crossed my arms, hiding the gap in my blouse, and took a shaky breath. “You tell me, Maya. What happened?”

Her brows furrowed, that perfect little crease forming between them, and she stepped closer, close enough that I could smell her vanilla perfume mixed with something sharper—mint gum, maybe. “What’s that supposed to mean? I was worried about you! That speech was rough, sure, but everyone’s already over it. You know how they are—onto the next drama by lunch.”

“Over it?” My voice cracked, louder than I meant, and I took a step toward her, my sneakers sinking into the soft earth. “It’s not over, Maya. It’s all over t****k. That video—my video. The one you took.”

Her smile faltered, just for a second, but she recovered fast, tossing her hair back with a laugh. “Oh, come on, Ev. You think I’d do that? I was just filming to show you later, you know, so we could laugh about it together. Someone must’ve grabbed my phone or hacked it or something. I’d never—”

“Stop.” I cut her off, my hands balling into fists at my sides. The cut on my finger throbbed, a dull reminder of the mirror I’d smashed, and I could feel the pin in my pocket humming against my thigh, tempting me to rewind this whole confrontation and try again. But I didn’t. Not yet. “I saw you, Maya. In the storage room. With Liam. I heard you.”

Her face froze, the smile sliding off like melted wax, and for a heartbeat, we just stood there, the wind whistling through the bleachers, tugging at my loose hair. Then she laughed again, softer this time, stepping so close I could feel the heat radiating off her. She leaned in, her breath warm against my ear, her voice dropping to a husky whisper. “You don’t get it, do you, Ev? This is how the game’s played. You’re too soft for it.”

My heart slammed against my ribs, and my cheeks burned—not just from anger, but from the way her closeness made my skin prickle, my breath hitch. She smelled like trouble and secrets, and for a stupid, fleeting second, I wanted to lean into her, let her pull me under like she always did. But then her words sank in, sharp and cold, and I jerked back, my sneakers skidding on the grass.

“Game?” I spat, my voice trembling. “This isn’t a game, Maya. You’re supposed to be my friend. You recorded me falling apart, and now it’s everywhere, and you’re—what? Laughing about it with Liam?”

She straightened, crossing her arms, her nails tapping against her elbow. “Okay, fine. Yeah, I sent it. But it’s not personal, Ev. You were sinking up there, and I gave you a push. People love a trainwreck—it’s how you stay relevant. You should thank me.”

“Thank you?” I laughed, a harsh, broken sound that echoed across the empty field. “For humiliating me? For stabbing me in the back?”

She rolled her eyes, like I was being dramatic, and that’s when I lost it. My hand shot to my pocket, grabbed my phone, and I hurled it at the ground. The screen shattered with a sickening crunch, glass splintering across the dirt, and I stomped on it, my heel grinding the pieces deeper. Pain shot up my ankle as it twisted, a sharp, searing jolt that made me gasp, but I didn’t care. I wanted something to break that wasn’t me.

“Ev, what the hell?” Maya’s voice cracked with shock, her cool-girl mask slipping. She took a step toward me, but I held up a hand, stopping her.

“Don’t,” I said, my voice low, raw. “Just don’t.”

She stared at me, her green eyes wide, and for a moment, I thought I saw something—guilt, maybe, or fear. But then her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she glanced at it, her lips twitching into a smirk. “Whatever, Ev. You’ll get over it. You always do.”

She turned to leave, her hips swaying like she was walking off a stage, and I stood there, chest heaving, ankle throbbing, watching her go. My fingers brushed the pin again, the hum stronger now, practically singing to me. I could go back. I could confront her differently, catch her off guard, make her admit it all without the smug deflection. My head ached, a dull warning pulse, but I ignored it, closing my eyes and letting the power surge.

The world tilted, the playground blurring into streaks of green and gray, and then I was back—five minutes earlier, standing in the same spot, Maya just arriving. My phone was whole again, tucked in my pocket, and my ankle didn’t hurt. Yet. She jogged over, same smile, same line: “Ev! There you are!”

This time, I didn’t wait. “Why’d you do it, Maya?” I said, my voice steady, cutting through her act. “The video. Liam. The storage room. I know everything.”

Her smile vanished, and she stopped dead, her sneakers scuffing the gravel. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb.” I stepped closer, my blouse fluttering in the wind, the missing button exposing more than I wanted, but I didn’t care. “I saw you with him. Heard you laughing about me. Planning it. Why?”

She opened her mouth, then closed it, her eyes darting like a trapped animal’s. “Ev, I—”

“Tell me!” I shouted, my voice cracking the quiet. A flock of birds exploded from a nearby tree, their wings a frantic drumbeat against the sky.

She flinched, then sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Okay, fine. You want the truth? I’m sick of you, Ev. Sick of your whining, your insecurity, the way you cling to me like I’m your lifeline. Liam gets it—he gets me. You’re just… baggage.”

The words hit like a slap, each one a fresh cut, and I stumbled back, my breath hitching. Baggage. That’s what I was to her. My best friend, the girl I’d shared everything with—sleepovers, secrets, stupid dreams about college and beyond—thought I was dead weight. My vision blurred, tears stinging, but I blinked them back. I wouldn’t cry. Not in front of her.

“You’re jealous,” I said, my voice shaking but loud. “You’ve always been jealous. Of me, of what I could be if I stopped letting you define me.”

Her laugh was sharp, cutting. “Jealous? Of you? Please, Ev. You’re nothing without me.”

“Then why bother?” I shot back. “Why waste your time tearing me down?”

She didn’t answer, just stared at me, her smirk gone, her face a blank mask I didn’t recognize. My head throbbed harder now, the pin’s warning pulsing in time with my heartbeat. I’d pushed it too far, rewound too much, and something was slipping—I could feel it, a fuzzy edge in my mind where a memory used to be. What had I lost this time? My tenth birthday? The day I got my first bike? It didn’t matter. Not now.

I turned away, my sneakers crunching as I headed for the school building, leaving her standing there. The playground stretched out behind me, vast and empty, the bleachers creaking like they were laughing at me too. My ankle twinged, a ghost of the pain I’d undone, and I limped slightly, the cold air stinging my lungs.

Halfway across the field, my phone buzzed. I pulled it out, the screen still intact from this timeline, and saw a Snapchat story pop up: “Sisters forever? LOL, Maya’s playing dirty.” No name, just a random account, but the words twisted in my gut. Someone else knew. Someone was watching this unfold.

I kept walking, the school’s brick walls looming ahead, their chipped paint and mossy cracks a familiar comfort. The pin in my pocket hummed softer now, like it was sulking, and I shoved my hand in deeper, silencing it. I’d seen enough. Maya’s mask was off, and Liam’s betrayal was next on my list. But as I reached the double doors, a shadow moved in my peripheral—a flicker, too quick to catch—and my phone buzzed again.

Another text. Unknown number. “Storage room. 5 PM. You’ll see.”

My breath caught, and I glanced back at the playground. Maya was gone, the field empty except for the wind kicking up dust. Five o’clock was fifteen minutes away. I could go home, lick my wounds, pretend this day never happened. Or I could go back there, use the pin again, and catch them red-handed—Maya and Liam, together, laughing at me.

The headache pulsed, sharper now, and I winced, pressing a hand to my temple. My reflection in the glass doors stared back—pale, determined, a girl on the edge of breaking or becoming something else. I made my choice. The storage room. One more rewind. One more truth.

As I turned toward the school’s side entrance, the wind carried a faint whisper—not the pin, not my imagination, but something real. “Time’s ticking, Evelyn.” I froze, my heart slamming, but the courtyard was empty, the shadows still. Someone—or something—knew what I could do. And they were waiting.