Chapter 12 - What We Choose To Be
1748 Words
The day Arden Heights released the end-of-semester exam timetable, the school practically vibrated like someone plugged it into a power source. Posters were pinned crookedly to bulletin boards, admin staff walked around with the “don’t even try me” energy, and students clustered in chaotic knots across the hallway.
Rena stepped into the lobby just as a group of freshmen nearly sprinted past her.
“Why are we running?” Amanda asked beside her, raising her brows.
“Survival strategy,” one guy yelled without even turning.
Amanda snorted. “Ah. Academic warfare.”
They both slowed in front of the huge board where the new timetable had been pinned. Amanda’s curls bounced as she leaned in to read the schedule for the Theatre Arts freshmen, her eyes scanning quickly.
“Oh perfect,” she groaned. “They gave us a 7:30 a.m. practical exam. On a Monday. These people don’t rate us.”
Rena smiled, brushing hair behind her ear. “At least you get to act. We have a full-blown analytical case-study paper. Three hours.”
Amanda exhaled dramatically. “Business people and their endless analysis… I don’t envy you.”
“You shouldn’t,” Rena deadpanned.
Amanda laughed, nudging her shoulder. The friendship now had warmth again — not the tightrope it was , but real, breathing closeness. Even now, when Amanda felt a small, private twist in her chest every time Tom crossed her mind, she still leaned into this friendship. She wanted it. She valued it. And jealousy wasn’t part of her story — insecurity was, and she was learning to name it without letting it eat her alive.
And Rena… Rena felt lighter beside her. Softer around the edges. More human. More open. She didn’t force the usual armor, the sharp-witted detachment. Something in her was learning to breathe without fear of being vulnerable.
They walked down the hallway together, weaving through students complaining about lecturers, unfair exam schedules, and cafeteria food that “should be illegal.”
A girl from Theatre Arts waved at Amanda.
“Amanda! Rehearsals at four today!”
“Got it!” she called back. “I’ll be there. Hopefully awake.”
“You’ll be fine,” Rena teased.
“I make no promises.”
They turned toward the staircase when a voice called behind them.
“Hey — wait!”
Tom.
He jogged over, slightly breathless, backpack slung across one shoulder, the exact picture of academically-hot exhaustion. Ink on his fingers, hair messy, hoodie sleeves rolled up.
Amanda felt her heartbeat jump.
Rena felt her pulse quicken for a different reason.
Tom slowed to a stop in front of them — and there it was again, the subtle tension that had hovered ever since the sketchbook incident.
Amanda stepped slightly aside, her internal voice whispering:
Okay… boundaries. Balance. Don’t run. Don’t freeze. Just breathe.
Rena lifted her chin. She wasn’t sure why her stomach flipped — curiosity, anticipation, fear? Maybe all three.
Tom gave a small, awkward smile. “Uh… I was trying to catch you earlier, but your class came out like a stampede.”
“Finals,” Amanda shrugged. “Everyone is trying to pretend they didn’t ignore all the lectures this semester.”
Tom laughed softly. “Yeah, that tracks.”
He shifted slightly, brushing his hand on his backpack strap — and something slid out.
Again.
A paper. Rena reached down and picked it up before he could.
It wasn’t a sketch of her face this time.
It was her hands.
Her hands holding a book.
Her hands tapping a pen.
Her hands tucked under her chin while thinking.
Amanda’s breath caught.
Rena froze.
Tom’s eyes widened in horror. “I— that— wasn’t meant to— I forgot it was in there—”
Rena swallowed. “You draw… a lot.”
Tom exhaled, rubbing his neck. “When I’m thinking. Or stressed. Or… trying to understand someone.”
Amanda forced a little smile. “I should— uh — go print something. Before the printer decides to blow up or something.” Her voice was light, gentle, not jealous — just overwhelmed. “Meet you guys later.”
Rena turned. “You okay?”
Amanda nodded. “Yeah. Yeah. I just… I’ll see you downstairs.”
She left fast, but not in panic — more like someone giving space she wasn’t sure she deserved to ask for.
That was her internal battle.
Her boundary.
Her growth starting to shine through.
Rena watched her go, a tiny crease between her brows.
Then she turned back to Tom.
The hallway quieted around them. Not completely — Arden Heights never fully quieted — but the noise blurred into background hum.
Rena held up the drawing. “You didn’t forget this one by accident.”
Tom inhaled sharply. “No. I didn’t.”
The air shifted.
Soft.
Careful.
Almost warm.
But not romantic.
Not yet.
Just full of truth.
Rena’s voice gentled. “Why?”
Tom looked away for a second before meeting her eyes again — eyes that always looked like they were carrying too much emotion for someone his age.
“Because,” he said slowly, “you’re everything I wish I could be.”
Rena blinked.
Tom continued, quiet but steady:
“You walk like you know the world can’t shake you. Like even when things hurt, you don’t break in front of people. You choose yourself even when it’s hard. And when you talk… it’s like you’ve already cut through the nonsense and gone straight to the truth.”
Rena felt heat touch her cheeks. She wasn’t used to hearing how she was seen. She wasn’t used to people seeing her at all.
Tom stepped a little closer, voice low.
“You’re brave in ways I’m not.”
Rena’s breath caught.
She wasn’t brave — at least, she didn’t feel brave. She felt controlled. Contained. Hardened by years of expectations. But hearing it from him…
It touched a place she didn’t even know was allowed to be soft.
“You really think that?” she whispered.
Tom nodded. “Yeah. Every day.”
A long pause.
A quiet one.
A meaningful one.
Not a confession.
But a truth.
Rena smiled — small, genuine, unforced. “Thank you.”
Tom released a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.
She tucked the drawing gently back into his backpack. “And you’re more than you think too. You feel deeply. You care intensely. You actually notice things people miss.”
Tom smirked slightly. “Like?”
“Like the way Amanda pretends she’s fine when she’s tired. Or how Eric taps his pen exactly three times before writing. Or how Isabelle smells like jasmine and sabotage.”
Tom snorted. “Honestly accurate.”
Rena’s lips curved. “See? You’re observant. And weird. And thoughtful. And really, really… human.”
He stared at her — with a softness that wasn’t romantic, but it could be, someday.
“I like that about you,” she added.
His throat bobbed. “I like that about you too.”
Before anything else could bloom between them, a loud voice echoed from the hallway:
“TOM! Med-Lab group practice starts in five minutes!”
Tom groaned. “I’m coming!”
He looked at Rena one last time.
A look that said: I see you.
A look that asked: Do you see me too?
Rena held the gaze without flinching.
“I’ll see you later, Tom.”
He nodded and jogged off.
---
Later
The sun was dimming when Amanda and Rena met again near the school garden walkway. Students were scattered everywhere with books, highlighters, snacks, and stress.
Amanda swung her bag forward and sat beside Rena on the bench.
“You look like someone who solved world peace,” Amanda teased.
“You look like someone who auditioned for a breakdown but got the callback instead,” Rena shot back.
Amanda laughed — too loudly — then groaned. “Oh God, that’s accurate.”
Silence.
Not uncomfortable — just full of things unsaid.
Amanda fiddled with her bracelet.
“I wasn’t upset,” she began quietly. “About… earlier. With the drawing.”
“I know,” Rena said softly. “You looked more scared than upset.”
Amanda’s eyes shone.
“Yeah,” she whispered. “Because I don’t want to lose you. And I don’t want to become someone who gets jealous over a boy, especially when I haven’t even told him anything, or told myself anything clearly.”
Rena turned to her fully. “Amanda…”
“No, I’m serious,” Amanda said, voice trembling with honesty. “I love being your friend. I love how safe I feel around you. And I don’t ever want to turn into one of those girls who hurts the people they love because they’re too scared to say how they feel.”
Rena’s eyes softened.
There it was.
Amanda balancing warmth and boundaries — choosing honesty, not silence.
“I’m not choosing a boy over you,” Amanda whispered. “I’ll never choose that over us.”
Rena reached out, taking Amanda’s hand, gently squeezing. “And I’m not choosing anything that hurts you either.”
Amanda leaned into her shoulder.
Rena let her.
The softness came naturally now.
“I want you to be happy,” Amanda murmured. “Whatever that looks like.”
“You too,” Rena replied.
For a moment, they just breathed together — two girls choosing authenticity, choosing growth, choosing kindness.
---
Later That Night
Rena walked back inside to check the updated exam schedule posted near the admin office — they were supposed to adjust the hall allocations.
She scanned the board lazily.
Then froze.
BUSINESS 102 — FOUNDATIONAL ANALYSIS
NEW EXAM HALL: A-Block West Wing
NEW SUPERVISOR: ISABELLE MONTCLAIR
Rena’s pulse spiked.
Amanda stepped beside her, reading over her shoulder.
“Wait… that can’t be right,” Amanda whispered.
Rena stared.
Her heart dropped.
Because Isabelle Montclair didn’t get assigned to exams by accident.
Ever.
Amanda swallowed hard.
“Rena… this looks personal.”
Rena inhaled slowly, her softness folding back into something sharp — not armor this time, but purpose.
“Then,” she said quietly, “it’s time we stop running from whatever she thinks she’s starting.”
Amanda nodded, gripping her hand.
Behind them, the hallway buzzed with exam panic, laughter, noise, and normalcy.
But for the two of them…
Something had shifted.
- Writer
