Rumours
1316 Words
By lunchtime, the morning had settled into something almost manageable.
Amelia spotted Lola near their usual table outside — the one half in the sun, half under the shade of the overhanging roof. Lola was already sitting cross-legged on the bench, unwrapping a sandwich dramatically like she was unveiling something important.
“Took you long enough,” Lola said as Amelia approached.
“I was packing up,” Amelia replied, sliding into the seat across from her.
They fell into an easy rhythm at first — complaining about maths, joking about how dramatic Ms. Patel had been introducing the new art theme. For a moment, it felt like before. Like nothing had shifted.
Just as they settled properly, Amelia’s phone buzzed on the table between them.
She glanced down.
Ryan.
So what’s the mysterious new art theme?
She hesitated only briefly before unlocking her phone.
Emotion, she typed back. We have to pick one and go deep with it.
Three dots appeared almost instantly.
Oh wow. That’s dangerous for you art kids.
She smiled faintly.
Probably.
What are you picking?
Her fingers hovered.
Not sure yet.
She put her phone down.
Lola’s eyes were fixed on her.
“Who’s that?” she asked, tone casual but sharp around the edges.
“Ryan,” Amelia said honestly. “He was asking about the new art topic.”
“Oh.” Lola took a slow bite of her sandwich. “Right.”
Amelia picked at the edge of her apple, then decided not to overthink it.
“He asked me something else this morning too.”
Lola raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
“He asked if I wanted to get coffee next weekend.”
There was the smallest pause.
“Like… just you two?” Lola asked.
“Yeah. I said I’d think about it.”
Lola’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly before she smoothed it away.
“I wouldn’t,” she said lightly.
Amelia blinked. “Why?”
Lola shrugged, but it wasn’t convincing. “I’ve just heard stuff.”
“What stuff?”
“Just… stuff.”
Amelia frowned. “That’s not helpful.”
Lola rolled her eyes slightly. “It’s nothing specific. Just rumours. He’s not exactly known for being… stable.”
“Stable?” Amelia echoed.
“Or consistent,” Lola corrected quickly. “He’s nice when he wants to be. But I wouldn’t trust it.”
Amelia studied her carefully.
“Where did you hear that?”
“People talk.”
“That’s vague.”
“Well, I’m not going to repeat gossip,” Lola snapped a little too quickly. Then her voice softened. “I just don’t want you getting messed around.”
The concern might’ve felt comforting.
Instead, it felt strangely hollow.
Amelia thought about maths that morning — the way Ryan had actually listened to her talk about her artwork. The way he hadn’t pushed when she said she’d think about coffee. The way he’d noticed she’d been quiet over the weekend.
That didn’t line up with the shadow Lola was sketching.
“What kind of rumours?” Amelia pressed gently.
Lola looked away, scanning the courtyard like the answer might be written somewhere else.
“I don’t remember exactly,” she said finally. “Just that he’s not someone you’d want to rely on.”
The answer felt incomplete.
Amelia could feel it — the missing pieces hovering between them.
“You don’t even know what the rumours are?” she asked quietly.
Lola’s expression hardened for a split second.
“I just don’t think it’s a good idea, okay?
”
The air shifted.
Amelia leaned back slightly.
Equal energy.
“Okay,” she said calmly. “I said I’d think about it.”
Lola watched her, searching her face for something — agreement, maybe. Loyalty.
“You’re not actually considering it, are you?” she asked.
Amelia held her gaze.
“I don’t know yet.”
That seemed to land wrong.
Lola forced a small laugh. “Wow. So we’re entertaining boys now.”
“It’s just coffee,” Amelia replied evenly.
“It’s never just coffee.”
The words lingered longer than they should have.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Around them, students moved and laughed and shouted across tables. The normal chaos of lunchtime continued untouched, but Amelia felt like she was standing slightly outside it.
“I just don’t want you hurt,” Lola said again, softer this time.
Amelia nodded slowly.
“I know.”
And she did know.
But she also knew something else now — that she was allowed to form her own opinions. Allowed to test the edges of something without pre-emptively retreating.
Her phone buzzed again.
Another message from Ryan.
Let me know what emotion you pick. I’m invested now.
She didn’t open it right away.
Instead, she looked at Lola — at the way her fingers tapped lightly against the table, at the tightness around her mouth.
Something about this felt less like protection and more like control.
But maybe she was overthinking.
Maybe Lola really had heard something.
Maybe this was nothing.
Amelia finally flipped her phone over, screen lighting briefly before dimming again.
“I’ll just see,” she said quietly. “That’s all.”
Lola didn’t look convinced.
But she nodded.
And as the bell rang, cutting through the courtyard noise, Amelia couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t really about rumours at all.
The bell echoed longer than usual.
Students began packing up around them, crumpling wrappers, shouting last-minute comments across tables. Lola stood quickly, slinging her bag over her shoulder.
“I just think you should be careful,” she added, tone lighter now, almost dismissive. “You don’t always see things straight away.”
Amelia rose more slowly.
“Neither do you,” she said before she could stop herself.
It wasn’t sharp. It wasn’t even accusatory.
Just… true.
Lola paused.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing,” Amelia replied evenly. “Just that rumours aren’t always reliable.”
For a split second, something unreadable flickered across Lola’s face — irritation? defensiveness? — then it was gone.
“Fine,” Lola said. “Do what you want.”
Equal energy.
“Okay.”
They walked back toward the building together, but the space between them felt subtly altered. Not wider, exactly — just heavier. Like something unspoken had been placed carefully in the middle and neither of them wanted to touch it.
Halfway down the corridor, Amelia’s phone buzzed again in her hand. She glanced at it this time.
Ryan: You disappeared mid-convo. Did I scare you off?
A small smile tugged at her mouth before she could stop it.
No, she typed. Lunch bell.
A reply came quickly.
Ah. Tragic. So what emotion are you thinking?
She hesitated.
Then, without fully analysing why, she wrote:
Anxiety.
The typing dots appeared, vanished, then appeared again.
That tracks, he replied. You’ll make it look cooler than it feels.
Her fingers hovered over the screen.
It’s not cool, she typed back.
Didn’t say it was, he responded. Just that you’ll turn it into something worth looking at.
She didn’t answer straight away.
Ahead of her, Lola pushed open the classroom door without waiting, not checking if Amelia was behind her.
Amelia slid her phone into her pocket.
Worth looking at.
The phrase lingered.
As she took her seat for the next class, she found herself thinking less about the rumours Lola wouldn’t explain and more about the fact that Ryan hadn’t tried to convince her of anything.
He’d just asked.
Lola had warned her away without evidence.
Ryan had offered coffee without pressure.
The contrast unsettled her more than she expected.
And for the first time, Amelia wondered — quietly, cautiously — whether giving people the same energy they gave her might reveal more than she was ready to see.
- Writer
