Small Inconsistencies
1504 Words
They stayed a little longer after that.
The conversation drifted easily again, as if the brief moment of tension had never quite settled in the first place. Ryan told her a story about accidentally submitting the wrong assignment in English last term, and Amelia found herself laughing harder than she expected. The sound surprised her — light, genuine, something she hadn’t heard from herself in a while.
At one point Ryan tried to guess what kind of paintings she made.
“Let me guess,” he said thoughtfully. “Very dark. Very dramatic. Probably lots of tortured artists and storm clouds.”
Amelia raised an eyebrow. “You think I paint storm clouds?”
“I think you feel like someone who paints storm clouds.”
She smirked. “You’re not completely wrong.”
The sun had shifted by the time their drinks were empty, the warmth of late morning settling around the quiet street. Eventually Ryan checked the time and leaned back in his chair.
“I should probably head home before my mum decides I’ve disappeared forever,” he said.
Amelia nodded, feeling an odd mixture of relief and disappointment.
They stood at the same time, pushing their chairs in.
“Well,” Ryan said, shoving his hands into his pockets again, “for a strictly-friends coffee, that was actually pretty good.”
“Don’t sound so surprised,” Amelia replied.
“I’m not surprised,” he said. “Just impressed.”
She rolled her eyes, but a small smile tugged at her mouth.
They walked together to the corner where their streets split. The moment stretched slightly, both of them pausing in that quiet way people do when they’re deciding if there’s anything else to say.
“See you tomorrow?” Ryan asked.
“Yes, first period" I said
“Right,” he said with a grin. “See you in maths.”
She nodded once before turning toward home.
The walk back felt quieter than the walk there. The morning anxiety had faded into something softer, something steadier. She replayed pieces of the conversation in her head — the jokes, the easy pauses, the way Ryan never pushed when she went quiet.
It had been… nice.
Unexpectedly nice.
Halfway down her street, her thoughts shifted.
Lola.
Amelia slowed slightly, her fingers brushing the edge of her phone in her hoodie pocket. She could text her now. Just something simple.
Did you go out today?
Guess who I ran into.
Something normal.
Her thumb hovered over the screen when she pulled the phone out.
But then she hesitated.
The last few days with Lola had felt… different. Not bad, exactly. Just slightly off, like a song playing a fraction of a second out of sync.
The memory of seeing her across the street outside the café flickered in Amelia’s mind again.
She glanced back down the empty road behind her.
No one there.
Amelia slid the phone back into her pocket.
She would just ask her tomorrow at school.
That would be easier.
By the time she reached her driveway, the quiet house greeted her the same way it had all weekend — still, calm, waiting.
For a moment, she stood on the front step before opening the door, wondering if the calm felt peaceful… or just lonely.
She still wasn’t entirely sure.
Monday morning arrived with a pale grey sky and the quiet hum of students slowly filtering toward the school gates.
Amelia rarely arrived early.
Normally she slipped through the gates just as the first bell threatened to ring, balancing her bag on one shoulder and half-jogging through the crowd to find Lola waiting near the gates.
But today she was there before most people.
The metal gates were still half open, the courtyard only dotted with a few early arrivals leaning against lockers or scrolling through their phones. The air held that crisp early-morning chill that hadn’t yet been warmed by the sun.
Amelia stood just off to the side of the entrance, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.
Waiting.
Her fingers were curled loosely around the strap of her bag, but every few seconds her eyes lifted toward the road.
She told herself she was just early.
Nothing more than that.
But the truth sat heavier in her chest.
She wanted to see Lola.
To talk to her.
To check something.
She wasn’t entirely sure what.
Students continued to pass through the gates in clusters — laughter, chatter, backpacks bumping into each other — but none of them were Lola.
Amelia checked the time on her phone.
Still early.
A few minutes later, she spotted her.
Lola appeared at the end of the footpath, walking toward the school with her usual easy confidence, one earbud in and her bag slung carelessly over one shoulder.
Amelia straightened without meaning to.
As Lola reached the gates, she noticed Amelia almost immediately. Her eyebrows lifted in surprise.
“Well,” Lola said, pulling the earbud out. “This is new.”
Amelia tried to keep her voice casual. “What is?”
“You being here first.”
Lola stopped in front of her, tilting her head slightly like she was studying a strange animal.
“You’re usually the one sprinting through the gates five seconds before the bell,” she added.
Amelia shrugged, forcing a small laugh.
“Yeah, well… my dad decided to drop the twins off this morning but didn't tell me till I was ready to leave.”
The excuse came quickly — almost too quickly — but Lola didn’t question it.
“Tragic,” Lola said lightly. “Look at you. Responsible and punctual.”
Amelia rolled her eyes.
They started walking through the courtyard together, their pace automatically falling into sync the way it always had.
For a moment, the normal rhythm between them returned — footsteps matching, shoulders occasionally brushing as they moved through the slowly growing crowd.
Amelia glanced sideways at her.
“So,” she said, keeping her tone casual, “what did you get up to this weekend?”
Lola shrugged immediately.
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?” Amelia repeated.
“Absolutely nothing,” Lola said, stretching the words slightly as if the idea amused her. “I stayed home the whole time.”
Amelia frowned faintly.
“The whole weekend?”
“Yep.”
“You didn’t go anywhere?”
“Nope.”
They reached the steps near the main building, weaving through a group of students arguing loudly about a football game.
Amelia slowed slightly.
“You didn’t leave the house even once?” she asked.
Lola glanced at her, raising an eyebrow.
“Why do you sound like a detective?”
“I don’t,” Amelia said quickly. “I was just asking.”
Lola laughed softly.
“Relax. I had a very exciting weekend of doing absolutely nothing. Stayed in my room, watched half a season of some stupid show, ignored homework. The usual.”
Amelia nodded slowly.
Across the street.
Standing still.
Watching.
The memory slid quietly through her mind, uninvited.
Her chest tightened just slightly.
“But,” Lola added, nudging Amelia with her shoulder, “you’re the one who actually had plans.”
Amelia blinked.
“What?”
“The coffee,” Lola said.
Amelia hadn’t told her yet.
Not properly.
She hesitated for a fraction of a second.
“Oh,” she said. “Yeah.”
Lola’s eyes sharpened just a little.
“And?” she asked.
“It was just coffee,” Amelia said.
“Just coffee,” Lola repeated.
Amelia shrugged, trying to keep her tone neutral.
“We talked. That’s it.”
Lola hummed quietly, like she was filing the information away somewhere.
They reached the hallway where students began splitting toward their homerooms.
For a moment neither of them spoke.
Then Lola tilted her head slightly.
“So,” she said. “Did you have fun?”
Amelia opened her mouth.
Paused.
Then nodded.
“Yeah,” she admitted.
Something flickered across Lola’s expression.
It was small.
Fast.
Gone almost immediately.
“Good,” Lola said.
But her voice sounded just slightly thinner than usual.
They stopped at the corner where their paths split toward their first classes.
“See you at lunch?” Amelia asked.
“Of course,” Lola said automatically.
She turned to leave, then paused.
“Oh,” she added casually over her shoulder. “And Amelia?”
“Yeah?”
Lola smiled.
“Next time you go out with someone from school,” she said lightly, “you should probably tell me first.”
Amelia frowned slightly.
“I was going to.”
Lola just shrugged.
Then she disappeared into the hallway crowd.
Amelia stood there for a moment longer than necessary, the noise of the school swelling around her.
One thought echoed quietly in the back of her mind.
If Lola had really been home all weekend…
Then who had she seen across the street and at the park?
- Writer
