Two sides of the same coin

CHAPTER 2:Amy-The Collision

Flashback

I don't see the messages until the next morning. Forty-three of them, all in the group I created.All about me.

Abigail: " Honestly, she's so exhausting sometimes "

Janet:'' she's always making everything about her emotions''

Jeffery: " That's why I didn't want her at my party lol''

And then-the one that makes me stop breathing-a message from someone I thought was my best friend:

Keisha:''she's literally so easy to manipulate. Like she'll believe anything you tell her. It's fun''

I read that message seven times. Then I read it seven more times. Then I call Keisha and ask her to explain, and she says,

''Amy it's not that serious. We were venting.''

But it is serious. Because they've been venting about me for months, apparently. And I've been walking around thinking we were friends.

The worst part is that I can't even be angry. I'm just... confused. Because I'd tried so hard. I'd listened to their problems, remembered their favourite drinks, showed up for them. I'd been a good friend. So why wasn't that enough?

Present Day

Dinner is awkward, as dinner with strangers always is, except these strangers are now my temporary family, and one of them is the guy who made me feel invisible at the airport.

Byron sits across from me, and he doesn't look at me once.

Not once.

He talks to his father about mathematics (apparently he's some genius), he responds politely to my mother's questions about school, he even smiles at something Mrs Jackson says. But when I try to join the conversation, he... doesn't acknowledge it.

It's like I'm not there.

And I hate that it bothers me. I hate that I'm sitting here thinking about how to make him notice me, how to say something clever enough that he'll look up from his plate and realise I'm actually interesting. I hate that I'm already trying to be unforgettable for someone who clearly couldn't care less.

This is not the plan. The plan is to be so genuinely great that people naturally gravitate toward me. The plan is not to care what some cold, rude guy thinks.

But apparently my brain didn't get the memo.

''So Byron'', I say, forcing brightness into my voice, ''what's your favorite thing about Cordexa?''

He finally looks at me. His eyes are dark and completely unreadable.

''The academics'', he says flatly.

''Right, of course.'' I laugh, trying to make it sound more natural.''I meant like, socially. Do you have a friend group? Any clubs?

''I'm not really a club person'', he says, and then he goes back to eating.

Okay. Message received.

I turn to Mrs Jackson and ask her about the art scene in New York, and I'm genuinely interested in her answer, but part of her brain is still stuck on Byron.On the fact that I immediately wanted to prove him wrong.

This is exactly the kind of thinking that got me into trouble before.

After dinner, I'm unpacking in my room- which is beautiful and expensive and somehow still feels temporary- when there's a knock on my door. I open it, not expecting Mrs Jackson, but it's Byron.

He's holding a stack of textbooks.

''These are for you'', he says. ''School reading list. My mother thought you might want to get ahead.''

''Oh. Thanks.'' I take them, trying to figure out if this is a nice gesture or some subtle insult.'' That's really thoughtful. ''

''It's not thoughtful. It's practical.'' He's already turning to leave. ''Cordexa moves fast, you'll need to catch up.

''Wait-'' I say, and he stops. '' I'm sorry if I was annoying at dinner. I know you probably have a lot going on, and I'm just this random girl who's suddenly living in your house. I get it. But I'm hoping we can maybe... not be weird about it?''

He looks at me for a long moment. His expression doesn't change, but something shifts in his eyes. Something that might be recognition, or might just be him deciding I'm not worth the effort of being rude to.

''I'm not being weird'', he says finally. I'm just not interested in small talk.

''Okay'', I say.''Fair enough''.

He leaves, and I sit on my bed holding the textbooks, feeling something I haven't felt in a long time: genuinely uncertain about whether someone likes me or not.

It's terrifying.

It's also, weirdly, a little bit exciting.