CHAPTER 4
752 Words
(Makayla POV)
The cafeteria is buzzing with Friday energy. Trays clatter, sneakers squeak, and the volume rises with every table that fills up. I pick at my salad with zero appetite as Jessa flops down across from me, her ponytail bouncing like it has a personality of its own.
"You know prom is in two weeks, right?" she says, already smirking like she knows my answer.
"Unfortunately." I roll my eyes.
Jessa leans in, her tone playfully scolding. "You have to at least pretend to be excited. It’s our last dance, Kay. I’ve been dreaming about this since freshman year!"
I chuckle. "That’s because you’re on the dance team. You live for this stuff."
She shrugs like it’s a compliment. "Guilty. And FYI, most of the hockey guys are going with girls from dance or track. We’re doing a group dinner thing before. You and Jared are still in, right?"
My stomach twists, but I play it cool. "Yeah. I mean, I guess."
Jessa narrows her eyes at me. "You guess? Kay, you two have been circling each other since the third grade. Just go with him already. It’s obvious."
I busy myself with stabbing a cucumber slice. "There’s nothing going on. We’re just friends. Always have been."
"Mmmhmm," she hums, clearly unconvinced.
Before I can change the subject, a familiar voice cuts in like nails on glass.
"Well if it isn’t the charity case and her cheerleader."
Lyra.
She saunters up, all sharp angles and too much perfume, her clique lingering behind her like backup dancers. Her gaze lands on me like I’m dirt on her shoes.
"You must be pretty pleased with yourself, Roberts," she says sweetly. "All these years and Jared still hasn’t ditched you. It’s kind of adorable."
"Back off, Lyra," Jessa snaps, standing halfway out of her seat.
Lyra ignores her. "You know, for someone who practically lives in his back pocket, he’s never looked at you like he actually wants you. Not like he could ever bring someone like you home."
My throat tightens, but I say nothing. That’s what gets under her skin the most.
Lyra smirks and tosses her hair. "See you at prom. Assuming you’re still tagging along."
Once she’s gone, Jessa sighs heavily. "She’s vile. Don’t listen to a word she says."
I nod, but the words echo anyway.
After school, Jared meets me at the front steps like he always does, his Jeep already running, but I hesitate.
"Hey," he says, lifting his chin in that lazy-cool way that somehow always makes me feel like I’m the only person in the world.
"Actually... I’m going to ride with Jessa today," I say quickly.
Jared blinks, just once. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah. Just need some girl time."
A pause. Then he nods, slowly. "Okay."
I glance at Jessa, who looks like I just told her the moon is square, but after a brief look from Jared—something I can’t read, but she clearly does—she just nods. "Let’s go."
"Want to hang out later?" I ask as she pulls into my driveway.
Jessa hesitates. "I... can’t. Family thing. Sorry. Rain check?"
"Sure," I lie, but I feel the sting.
Home is quiet. I sit at the kitchen table surrounded by folders and scholarship letters, trying to summon motivation. My fingers drum against the wood until I hear the front door open.
"Smells like leftovers," Dad calls out.
"Hey, you hungry?"
"Always."
My dad steps into the kitchen, loosening his tie and smiling. "What’s all this?"
"Just going over college stuff. Again."
He peeks over my shoulder. "Still thinking about Cal State?"
"They offered the best track scholarship. I think I’m going to say yes."
He beams. "That’s my girl. You calling them tomorrow?"
"First thing."
A beat.
"And Jared?" he asks gently.
I pause. "He hasn’t chosen yet."
"You think he’s waiting on you?"
"I don’t know," I admit. "Maybe."
He squeezes my shoulder. "Just make sure you’re not holding yourself back for someone else. Even someone you care about."
I nod. It’s hard to swallow.Later that night, curled in bed under a mountain of uncertainty, I type out a message:
KAY: Chose my school. Wanna go for a run? Need to clear my head.
No reply.
After fifteen minutes, I grab my sneakers. The sun has long set, but I don’t care. My blood is buzzing, my heart pounding from too many what-ifs.
So I do what I always do when the world feels too heavy.
I run.
- Writer
