Shadows By The Poolside

Unwritten Dreams

The first morning of senior high school felt lighter than the sky itself. Arielle stood at the front gate, looking at the tall new building with a grin stretching across her face. “I can’t believe it,” she said, squeezing her backpack straps. “We’re actually in the same school as Maxwell now. The four of us are finally complete again.”

Noah, standing beside her, nodded. “Honestly? Same here. When Max graduated from junior high, I didn’t realize how much I’d miss having him around until he wasn’t with us every morning. It feels like things are back to normal now.”

Bryson scoffed and kicked at a pebble. “Yeah, yeah… back to normal for you two maybe. I’m not exactly sure I like the idea of being in the same school with Maxwell. Last time we played basketball together, he acted like he was my mom or something.”

Arielle looked at him and laughed. “You don’t like the idea because you know very well you can’t fool around with Max around. That’s why.”

“Exactly,” Bryson replied dramatically, throwing his hands up. “He acts like a parent. Maybe that’s what happens when people start getting old.”

A voice suddenly came from behind. “Old?” Maxwell hooked an arm around Bryson’s neck and ruffled his hair. “You better behave yourself this year. You’re a senior now, so try acting a little more mature.”

Bryson groaned and shoved him away playfully. “See? This is exactly what I’m talking about!”

Arielle burst into laughter, and Noah joined in, shaking his head.

Before they could say much more, the school bell rang loudly across the compound.

“That’s us,” Maxwell said, pointing toward the building. “Class time.”

They began walking, heading toward the hallways where students rushed around with excitement.

Before splitting off, Maxwell turned to them. “Stay focused this year. And please—stay out of trouble.”

Noah elbowed Bryson. “You should aim that comment at him, not at us.”

Arielle laughed and nudged Bryson as well. “Come on, let’s not be late.”

She and Bryson had the same class, while Noah’s was down another corridor. Maxwell’s classroom was upstairs since he was two classes ahead of them.

Just before Arielle stepped into her classroom, Maxwell called out, “Arielle.”

She turned. “Yes?”

“See me during break.”

She nodded casually, but Bryson… froze.

The moment Arielle walked into the classroom, Bryson narrowed his eyes. “Why does Max want to see you?” he asked.

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe something important.”

He didn’t like that answer. Not even a little.

And just like that, the school day began.

By the time the break bell rang, students filled the hallway in waves of chatter. Arielle stepped out of her classroom and headed upstairs, her ponytail swinging lightly as she walked. Bryson followed a moment later—quietly, carefully, pretending to retie his shoelaces before sneaking after her.

Arielle reached Maxwell’s class, Maxwell looked up from his desk and immediately smiled. “Come in.”

Bryson stayed outside, peeking carefully from behind a wall.

Inside the classroom, Maxwell stood and motioned for her to sit.

“Have you eaten lunch?” he asked.

Arielle nodded. “Yes. Mom packed lunch for me and Noah.”

“Good.” He leaned against a desk. “I asked you to see me because senior high is different. You need to start thinking about what you want to do… who you want to become. Bryson likes basketball a lot and he’s good at it. If he keeps training, he could actually go far. Noah is great at painting—you know how talented he is. He already talked to the art club yesterday, so he’s joining them soon.” Maxwell paused. “But… I don’t think I know what you have passion for.”

Arielle blinked, a little taken aback. The idea that someone was thinking this deeply about her tugged at her in a soft, warm way.

“Um… I don’t know, Max,” she admitted. “I don’t really have anything I’m passionate about. I’m good at my studies but… that’s it. I don’t have anything special.”

He shook his head. “Everyone has something. You just have to find yours. Think about it, okay?”

“I will,” she promised.

Outside, Bryson clenched his jaw. Every time Arielle smiled at Maxwell, he felt something twist inside him—not anger, not sadness, but something confusing, sharp, and jealous.

When the conversation continued longer than expected, Bryson leaned forward a little too far, almost slipping. He caught himself, hissed quietly, and kept watching.

Inside the room, Arielle stood. “Thanks, Max. Really. It means a lot.”

Maxwell smiled. “Good. Now go before Bryson thinks I’m trying to steal you for myself.”

Arielle laughed. “He already thinks that all the time.”

Max laughed too. “Tell him to go focus on his books.”

She waved goodbye and left the classroom.

Bryson immediately straightened and pretended to walk down the hallway like he hadn’t been spying at all.

“Hey,” he said casually as she approached. “You took… a long time.”

“It wasn’t that long,” Arielle said.

“You sure?” He tried sounding innocent. Too innocent.

She ignored his tone. “Come on. We’re going to be late for the next class.”

They walked side by side, Bryson glancing at her every few seconds as if trying to read her face.

That evening after school, after dinner, Arielle quietly slipped outside. Noah found her sitting on the front steps, staring at the sky.

“Hey,” he said, sitting beside her. “You look like you’re planning a robbery.”

She snorted. “Shut up.”

He grinned. “Seriously though, what’s up? You’ve been spaced out since school closed.”

She hesitated before answering. “Max asked me what I’m passionate about… for the future. And I realized I don’t know.” She pulled her knees up. “I’m just… good at studying. But that’s not passion.”

Noah thought for a moment. “You love reading. Like… a lot. You practically eat books.”

She bit back a smile. “Maybe…”

“You could be a writer,” Noah said simply.

She turned toward him. Something about the way he said it made the idea feel possible.

“You think so?” she asked softly.

He nodded. “You imagine whole worlds in your head. You tell stories all the time. You’d be a great writer one day.”

Arielle looked down at her hands, the corners of her lips lifting. “That’s… actually not a bad idea.”

“Then try it,” Noah said, nudging her playfully. “Join the writers club. What’s the worst that could happen?”

She smiled fully now. “Thanks, Noah.”

He stood. “Good. Now I have math homework waiting to ruin my life.” He started walking into the house, then paused. “You really would make a great writer, Arielle.”

When he entered the house, she stayed outside for a long time—smiling, imagining a future with stories and words she wanted to create one day.

The next morning felt fresh, like everything in the world was on her side.

Arielle walked to school with Noah and Bryson, and she talked more than usual, distracted by her thoughts about writing. She told herself that today she would look for the writer’s club room. Maybe she’d take a form. Maybe she’d even start a story soon.

Inside school, the hallways buzzed with noise as students rushed past the morning announcements.

Bryson watched her from the side, trying to guess what’s going.

“You’re weirdly happy,” he commented, raising an eyebrow.

Arielle shrugged. “Just thinking about something.”

Bryson wanted to ask more, but Noah cut in. “Let her think in peace, Bryson.”

“Whatever,” Bryson muttered.

Then Noah asked, “Are you going to the writers club today?”

Arielle blinked. “You remembered?”

“Of course. You should check it out.”

Bryson frowned instantly. “Writer’s club? Since when did you want to be a writer?”

Arielle hesitated. “Since… yesterday, I guess.”

“And you didn’t tell me?” Bryson asked.

“You don’t even like reading,” Arielle teased. “You’d make fun of me.”

“I wouldn’t,” he said quietly—almost too quietly to hear.

But before she could reply, the bell rang and they all rushed off to class.

During break, Arielle found herself staring at the school’s announcement board where different club posters were pinned. The Writers Association poster was elegant, with thin blue strokes and a feather pen illustration.

She reached out, touching the edge of the paper slightly.

She imagined herself writing stories, sharing ideas, building characters. The thought warmed her.

“Thinking about joining?” a voice asked.

She turned, expecting Noah or Maxwell—but it was Mr. Lloyd, the English teacher.

“Oh! Um… I was just looking,” she said shyly.

“You should consider it,” he said kindly. “You have a natural voice when you speak in class. Writing might suit you.”

The compliment lingered with her even after he walked away.

Later in the day, their final class dragged on, the clock ticking slowly toward closing time. When school finally ended, the four friends walked home together as usual.

Maxwell immediately noticed Arielle’s thoughtful expression. “You’re still thinking about it?”

She nodded.

Bryson glanced between them. “Thinking about what?”

“Nothing,” Arielle answered quickly.

Maxwell gave her a small smile. He didn’t explain.

Bryson clenched his jaw for the second time that day.

After dinner, the weather cooled and a quiet breeze swept through the compound. Arielle sat outside again, hugging her knees while staring up at the faint stars above.

This time, she wasn’t thinking about the messy parts of life. She was thinking about stories—words flowing like rivers, pages filling, characters breathing.

She was thinking about becoming something.

Someone.

Noah’s voice broke her thoughts. “There you are,” he said as he stepped outside. “I knew you’d be here again.”

She smiled softly. “Yeah.”

He sat beside her. “So… how’s the thinking going?”

“I’ve been thinking a lot,” she admitted. “About writing. About future things. I don’t know why but… it feels like maybe I could really do it.”

“You can,” Noah said confidently.

She chuckled. “Don’t be so sure of me.”

“I am,” he insisted. “Look… remember when we were kids and you used to tell us stories about that magical garden behind the broken fence? You always made it so real. Even Bryson believed you.”

She laughed. “He believed everything when we were kids.”

“Exactly,” Noah said. “So why not turn those stories into real books someday?”

She looked ahead for a moment. “Maybe I will.”

Noah smiled warmly. “Good. Then join the club.”

She looked at him with soft eyes. “You’re really supportive, you know.”

He shrugged. “Someone has to be the sensible one between us.”

They laughed together.

A moment later, Noah stood. “Alright, writer girl. I’m going in before Dad thinks I’m avoiding chores. Don’t stay out too long.”

She nodded. “Okay.”

Noah walked into the house, leaving Arielle alone with her thoughts again.

She stayed there, staring up at the sky, imagining her future—pages filled with dreams, shelves lined with stories, her mom reading proudly, her friends cheering her on.

A beautiful dream.

But some dreams end before they truly begin.

Arielle had no idea that her story… her life… her words… would one day be cut short.

And that someone she trusted would play a role in taking it all away.