Stacey, The middle one

Growing pains

The week passed in a blur, strangely quiet. No more surprises, no more schoolyard attacks. The halls still whispered, eyes still lingered a bit too long, but no one dared to make a move. Maybe it was because Harry had started hanging around the house more. Maybe it was because of what he’d done to Conner.

He didn’t ask about my bruised knees or raw palms. He just looked. Saw. And when I gave the weak excuse, "I wasn’t looking where I was going," he didn’t argue. But I knew he didn’t believe me.

Something shifted between us. Not back to what we had when we were younger, but something new. Quieter. A fragile truce.

And while that part of my life held its breath, another started to crackle with anticipation.

Friday.

The gig.

Kayla and I had been planning it all week. She’d somehow sorted fake IDs for the both of us. She said she had a guy who owed her, didn’t say why, and I didn’t ask. I was too busy freaking out about what I was going to wear.

We arranged to meet at the school gates after dark. I had to sneak out of the house. I told my mum I was staying over at a friend’s and she, as always, gave me the speech about bills and budgeting and how she hoped my friend’s parents had enough food to feed me. Then she handed over a crumpled ten-pound note with the words, “That’s it. Don’t ask for more.”

I hugged her tightly. She was trying, even if the world hadn’t made it easy for her.

Kayla was already waiting when I got to the gates, dressed in a black mesh top and high-waisted jeans tucked into chunky boots. Her makeup was fierce, her smirk sharper than ever.

"Ready to lose your gig virginity?" she grinned.

I nodded, breathless. "Let’s do this."

And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel like I was running from something.

I felt like I was running toward it.

Toward something dangerous.

Toward something mine.

The ID was dodgy at best, like me, if I’d gained 70 pounds, cut my hair with blunt scissors, and hadn’t smiled in a decade. But it passed. Kayla slid hers and mine across the bar like we did it every weekend. No questions asked.

Inside the uni venue, the air pulsed with heat, smoke machines, and the echo of soundcheck feedback. We pushed through the crowd and made a beeline to the bar. Kayla leaned in, confident and composed, ordering vodka and cokes like she’d been drinking them since birth.

I hesitated when the drink was placed in front of me. I didn’t even know what I liked. But I didn’t want to look clueless either. I sipped.

Kayla raised an eyebrow and grinned. “Neck it.”

So I did.

And then again. And again. By the third round, I wasn’t sure which way was up. My head spun, my cheeks were flushed, and the loud throb of the bass felt like it was inside my chest. The crowd blurred into a swirl of colour and movement, and it was amazing. No school. No whispers. No bullies. No parents.

No, Mr. Callahan.

At least, not until I stumbled toward the toilets and smacked straight into him, sloshing half my drink across his shirt.

My hand flew to my mouth. “Shit.”

He looked at me, his expression stunned at first, then shifting into something sharper. Recognition. Disbelief.

“Stacey?”

The sound of my name in his voice brought everything back into focus. I froze.

“You’re drunk... and too young to be here.”

I laughed, half nerves, half vodka, and ducked past him. “You sound like a dad,” I tossed over my shoulder, trying not to trip as I darted toward the bathroom.

When I came out again, I couldn’t spot Kayla. Just the crowd surging, the band screaming out their set, and a wave of nausea threatening from the alcohol. I turned to steady myself, and he was there. Mr. Callahan.

He took my hand, not rough, but insistent, and led me through the crowd to a cooler, quieter area near the fire exit. The wall behind us was cool, rough against my back as I leaned on it to catch my breath.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“I’m fine.” But my voice wobbled slightly.

“What are you even doing here?” His voice was lower now, not angry, just tired. “This isn’t safe.”

“I’m not a child,” I said, meeting his gaze. “I’m seventeen. You know that.”

He exhaled slowly, the weight of everything unsaid hanging between us.

“I should go home,” I added quickly, trying to fix whatever this was, whatever tension had built between us since the night behind the school gates. But even as I said it, I didn’t move.

And neither did he.

The air between us was charged. Maybe it had been for a while. I didn’t know if it was the alcohol or the way he’d always looked at me like I was more than just some kid. But I stepped forward, slow and unsure, and rose onto my toes.

I kissed him.

Gently. Hesitantly.

His breath caught. His hand moved like he meant to stop me, but didn’t.

I kissed him again, this time with something behind it. Not practised, not perfect, but honest. Needy. Real.

And he kissed me back.

Just for a moment.

Before either of us could think better of it.

It was like a match being lit in the dark, brief, hot, bright, and then gone.

The realization hit me like a wave. What I’d just done. What he’d just let happen. My eyes widened, and my heart slammed against my ribs. I pulled back suddenly, his face still inches from mine.

“I,”

But I didn’t stay for the rest. I turned, heart in my throat, and pushed my way back into the crowd, the music swallowing me whole.

I didn’t look back.

But I felt it the way he watched me disappear.

I managed to fight my way back through the crowd, vision still spinning slightly, heart pounding for all the wrong reasons now. The bass rattled my chest, and the lights strobed in time with my guilt. But then I saw her. Kayla perched on a speaker stack with two drinks in hand, head thrown back in laughter at something a guy in a leather jacket had said. She didn’t even clock that I’d been gone. No questions. No judgment. Just Kayla.

Without a word, I slipped the spare drink from her hand and let the music swallow me whole. I needed it, too. I needed the noise to drown out what had just happened, what I had just done. And for the rest of the night, I let go.

We drank more. We danced until our bodies ached. I screamed lyrics I didn’t know. At one point, I cried in the toilet cubicle and then laughed until I cried again. Everything blurred, the world, my thoughts, the shame, the thrill. I threw up in a hedge on the walk home, my heels dangling from one hand, mascara smudged and heart messy.

But Kayla didn’t make a thing of it. She held my hair, shoved mints in my mouth, and told me I was lightweight with love in her voice. In Kayla, I’d found something dangerous and wonderful, a twin flame, reckless and raw. No drama, just presence. Just fun. Just now.

We stumbled to my street with hushed giggles, still glowing from the heat of the night. The floors were cheeky, creaking under every step, and I peeled off my shoes to soften the noise as I crept through the door like a cliché in a teen movie.

I made it halfway up the stairs, breathing out in triumph, then I saw him.

Harry.

He was heading down, probably to grab something from the kitchen. He froze, eyebrows raised at the sight of me in my eyeliner-streaked glory, purse hanging open, and shoes in hand. I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but he just looked at me for a second longer.

And then he winked.

No lecture. No interrogation. Just a silent, unexpected understanding passed between us.

He padded past me without a word, and I kept climbing.

For the first time in ages, I didn’t feel like a kid trying to grow up.

I felt like someone finding her own way, however messy and misstepped.

And Harry?

Maybe he was finally letting me.