Chapter 2
1109 Words
Bonnie is practically glued to Dean’s side, laughing too loud at something he’s said. Brock and Clayton lean against the lockers like they own the place. Audrey twirls her hair, pretending not to notice me.
Dean, of course, notices. He always does.
“Well, well, if it isn’t Jess Taylor,” he says with that smug grin that makes me want to vanish into thin air.
I keep my face neutral. Don’t let him get to you.
“Move. You’re in front of my locker.”
“Oooh, feisty this morning.” Dean leans closer, towering over me. “What’s the rush, Jess? Got a hot date?”
Bonnie giggles. “As if.”
My jaw tightens. “Move, Dean.”
He smirks, slow and deliberate, before finally stepping aside. His crew snickers like it’s the funniest thing they’ve seen all week. I shove my books into my locker and slam it shut harder than necessary.
“Catch you later, sweetheart,” Dean calls as I walk away.
God, five more months.
---
By lunchtime, the sting of the morning has dulled. Flash and Ruby are waiting at our usual spot under the big oak tree. Ruby’s got her nose buried in a book, and Flash is tossing an apple up and down like a restless kid.
“There’s my girl,” Flash grins. “Survive the locker gauntlet?”
“Barely.” I flop down beside him.
Ruby lowers her book. “Dean again?”
“Who else?”
Ruby makes a face. “One day, karma’s going to wipe that smirk right off him.”
“Let’s hope it’s soon.” I pull out my lunch—yogurt, fruit, the usual. Flash eyes it and snickers.
“You know, Jess, one slice of pizza won’t kill you.”
“Neither will minding your own business,” I shoot back, but I smile. That’s the thing about Flash—he pushes, but never too far.
Ruby changes the subject. “So, Jess, have you thought more about college? I know you said maybe Australia, but—”
I groan. “Not you too. You sound like my parents.”
Flash snorts. “Except we actually care.”
I roll my eyes, but a tiny part of me warms at that. They do care. Sometimes more than my parents ever have.
---
The rest of the day drags. Math, history, English—each class blending into the next. By final bell, I’m more than ready to escape.
Flash offers me a ride home, but I wave him off. “I’ll walk. Need the air.”
Truth is, I need space.
As I head down the street, backpack heavy on my shoulders, I spot Dean again. He’s leaning against that stupid Lancer of his, tossing a basketball in one hand. When his eyes land on me, my stomach knots.
“Hey, Taylor!” he calls. “Want a ride? Plenty of room in the back.”
His friends howl with laughter. Heat floods my face, but I keep walking, eyes straight ahead.
Behind me, Dean whistles low. “Aw, don’t be like that, sweetheart. You know you want me.”
My hands clench into fists. I don’t stop. Don’t give him the satisfaction.
Two more streets. Then home.
---
Home is quiet, as usual. Too quiet. My parents are still in San Francisco, probably won’t bother coming back until the weekend—if that. I dump my bag, collapse onto the couch, and let the silence wrap around me.
Most kids would kill for this much freedom. But for me, freedom feels like loneliness.
I grab my phone and scroll. Flash has already texted:
Flash: Don’t let Dean get to you. He’s just an insecure douche.
Me: Easier said than done.
Flash: Remember—you’re stronger than him. Don’t forget it.
I stare at the words longer than I mean to. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I am stronger.
But as I close my eyes, all I see is Dean’s smirk.
Evening creeps in, shadows stretching across the quiet house. My parents still haven’t called, not that I expected them to. By now, I’ve stopped waiting.
I heat up some leftovers, eat alone at the kitchen counter, then retreat to my room. My textbooks glare at me from the desk, but I ignore them. Instead, I sit at the window with my journal. Writing has always been my way to untangle the chaos in my head.
I scribble: Five more months. That’s it. Five months until I can breathe again. Until I’m free of Chatswood High. Free of Dean Clarke and his smug grin. Free of always feeling less-than.
My phone buzzes.
Ruby: Movie night this weekend? My place. We need snacks and cheesy rom-coms.
Me: Yes. Desperately.
Ruby: Good. Bring Flash. He’s not allowed to bail.
Me: Deal.
A smile tugs at my lips. Ruby always knows how to anchor me. Between her and Flash, I don’t feel quite so alone.
---
Later, as I’m brushing my hair before bed, I catch myself staring in the mirror again. My reflection feels like a stranger sometimes.
Blonde hair pulled into a ponytail. Blue eyes that look too pale when I’m tired. Shoulders straighter now than they used to be.
Forty-five pounds gone. Years of work. But why do I still see the old me staring back?
I shake my head. No. I’m not that girl anymore. I won’t let Dean—or anyone—drag me back there.
---
The weekend comes faster than expected. By Saturday night, I’m at Ruby’s place, curled on the couch with popcorn in my lap. Flash sprawls across the other end, feet propped on the coffee table. Ruby sits between us, remote in hand.
She grins. “Okay, we’ve got 10 Things I Hate About You or The Notebook. What’s the verdict?”
Flash groans. “You always pick sappy stuff.”
“Shut up, you love it,” Ruby fires back.
“Do not,” he protests, but his grin gives him away.
I laugh, the sound surprising even me. For a few hours, the weight of school and parents and Dean slips away. For a few hours, it’s just us—three best friends, too much popcorn, and a terrible rom-com we’ve seen a hundred times.
Moments like this? They’re the ones worth holding onto.
---
When I finally crawl into bed that night, stomach full of sugar and sides sore from laughing, I feel lighter than I have in weeks.
And yet, in the back of my mind, I know it won’t last.
Because moments—the good ones—never do.
- Writer
