CHAPTER 3 – Tagged
862 Words
Lunch at Arroyo Mesa High was always loud.
Kids yelled from across the quad like their words couldn’t just walk. Someone had a speaker blasting something halfway between a corrido and trap. A girl tripped over her slides and played it off like she meant to. Laughter everywhere, loud and sharp, like it was trying to compete with the sun.
Mila De La Cruz had her lashes done, her hoops in, and her hot Cheetos with nacho cheese and Valentina. Her hair was in space buns, edges laid like a mural, and she was halfway through roasting her cousin Anthony for his busted Air Forces when it happened.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
Her phone lit up three times in a row.
Tagged in a story
Tagged in a post
Mentioned in a comment
She smirked. Probably a meme. Maybe the photo she posted earlier.
She clicked.
It was a meme. But not the kind you laugh at.
A cropped screenshot from someone’s Snap story, slightly pixelated. Jordan. Kissing a girl in the background. Arms tangled, full lip contact. And the caption across the bottom:
"When your man’s for everybody 🤣🤣🤣"
She didn’t blink.
Didn’t react.
She stared at it too long, like maybe it would shift. Like maybe it wasn’t what it looked like.
But it was.
“You good?” Anthony asked, reaching across to steal a bite of her hot Cheetos.
She shoved his hand away automatically. “Don't touch my stuff.”
He laughed, not catching her tone.
Her friends were still laughing at something someone else said. She was tagged, but none of them had seen it. Not yet.
Mila didn’t say a word. She just sat there, phone heavy in her hand.
That was Jordan. That was his hoodie. The green one with the faded sleeves she’d borrowed last week when her car’s heater went out and she had to ride with the windows up, freezing late at night.
He kissed her in that hoodie.
And he was kissing someone else in it, too.
Her stomach turned. The cheese on her Cheetos went cold.
She scrolled. The meme was getting reposted. Fast.
Different captions. Different versions. One with hearts drawn around the girl. One that zoomed in and looped the kiss. One that asked, "So who’s the side piece tho?"
Someone else tagged her again.
She finally moved. Lifted her phone.
Opened her texts.
Typed:
Where were you last Friday?
No emoji. No punctuation. Just the question.
Sent.
Screen: delivered.
She watched the read receipt stay blank.
“Mila,” her best friend Serena said, sitting across from her, “you’re weird and quiet right now. That usually means something's about to explode.”
Mila tried to laugh. It didn’t land.
Serena squinted at her. Then her phone buzzed.
“Oh s**t,” she said. “Wait. Wait, wait, wait.”
Mila looked away.
“Girl… this meme. Is that…”
“Yeah,” Mila said, voice flat. “It is.”
“And that’s your Jordan?”
Mila didn’t answer.
Serena lowered her phone slowly. “Damn.”
Mila got up.
Didn’t announce it. Just grabbed her tray and walked.
The quad felt too open all of a sudden. Every noise scratched.
She dumped her food, untouched, into the trash. Slid into the hallway just as the warning bell rang.
The bathroom mirror was too honest. Her liner was still sharp. Lip gloss intact. Hair unfazed.
She didn’t look betrayed.
So why did her eyes burn?
She leaned on the sink. Breathed slow.
Her phone buzzed again. She whipped it out.
Nothing.
Just a spam text.
Still no reply from Jordan.
The silence was loud.
A memory hit her sideways at that moment.
Jordan, pulling her into his arms, both of them leaning against the hood of his car. No rush, just heat and heartbeat. Her cheek pressed to his chest. He smelled like laundry and oranges.
“You’re the only one I actually trust,” he’d said.
She’d believed him. She wanted to believe him.
But he kissed that girl like he meant every second of it.
And now she was the meme. Not even the focus. Just the punchline.
She reached for her necklace.
The silver one with the little pendant. A tiny compass.
He’d given it to her a month ago. Said, “So you always find your way back to me.”
She yanked it off. It caught for a second, then snapped.
She shoved it into her backpack without looking.
Back in the hall, the crowd swelled. Everyone moving, yelling, laughing.
Mila walked through it like glass. Nothing touched her. No one saw her.
Someone called her name.
She didn’t stop.
Someone else said, “Damn, you good?”
She didn’t answer.
She was walking the wrong way.
Didn’t care.
She pulled her phone out one more time.
Still nothing.
Still no reply.
Fine.
She deleted the message thread.
Scrolled back up to the meme.
Took a screenshot of it.
Stared at it.
Saved it.
Because she wasn’t going to forget this.
And if Jordan thought he could play games?
He wasn’t ready.
If he wants to play stupid, I can too.
- Writer
