Changing Tides
1168 Words
Friday arrived brighter than it had any right to be.
The sky was clear, sharp blue stretching endlessly above the rows of buses idling outside the school gates. Students clustered in uneven groups, half-awake but buzzing with the kind of energy only a day out of routine could bring.
Amelia stood with her backpack slung over one shoulder, permission slip long since handed in, trying to match the mood.
Field trip day.
She’d been looking forward to it all week.
Lola bounced lightly beside her. “If we get stuck with Mr. Lawson’s group, I’m faking an injury.”
“You wouldn’t,” Amelia said.
“Watch me.”
The teachers began calling names, dividing the year level into assigned groups for the day’s rotations. Clipboards in hand, voices firm and unmovable.
“Group Three…”
Amelia half-listened until she heard her own name.
“…Amelia Gage.”
She stepped forward instinctively.
A second later—
“…Ryan fielder.”
Her stomach flipped.
She didn’t hear Lola’s name called beside hers.
Instead—
“…Lola Martinez — Group Five.”
A beat.
Amelia glanced sideways.
Lola’s smile faltered for the briefest second before she smoothed it over.
“Guess we’re separated,” Lola said lightly.
“Just for the rotations,” Amelia replied.
“Obviously.”
But her tone felt thinner than it should have.
The groups split off toward different buses.
Ryan appeared at Amelia’s side, grinning. “Lucky day.”
She huffed softly. “Don’t make it weird.”
“I’m not. I’m making it statistically fortunate.”
Despite herself, she laughed.
The trip was to the coastal reserve — cliffs, walking tracks, guided ecology sessions. The air smelled like salt and damp grass when they stepped off the bus.
For the first hour, Amelia let herself enjoy it.
The ocean stretched wide and restless beyond the rocks. Wind tugged at her hair. Ryan walked beside her as their group followed the guide along the trail, pointing out native plants and nesting sites.
“You’d paint this,” Ryan said at one lookout, gesturing toward the horizon.
“I probably will.”
“I expect royalties.”
“You’ll get exposure.”
He groaned. “The worst kind of payment.”
She felt lighter than she had in days.
They wandered slightly behind the group at one point, Ryan balancing along the edge of the gravel path like a child.
“Careful,” she said. “If you fall, I’m not carrying you.”
“You’d try.”
“I absolutely would not.”
He grinned at her, wind pushing his hair into his eyes.
For a while, it was just that — easy conversation layered over crashing waves.
Then Amelia felt it.
Not a sound.
A sensation.
She turned her head instinctively.
Across the stretch of grass near another trail, Group Five had stopped at a different viewpoint.
Lola stood slightly apart from her cluster.
And she was looking directly at Amelia.
Not smiling.
Not waving.
Just… watching.
Amelia’s laughter faltered.
“You good?” Ryan asked.
“Yeah.”
She looked back at him quickly, forcing her shoulders to relax.
When she glanced again, Lola had turned away, speaking to someone beside her.
It was nothing.
They were just in each other’s line of sight.
Of course she’d look.
The groups rotated after lunch.
Amelia found herself more aware now. More conscious of where Lola was positioned relative to her. Of whether she could be seen.
During the guided rock pool exploration, Ryan crouched beside her, pointing out a small crab wedged between stones.
“Look at this guy,” he said. “He’s living his best life.”
Amelia smiled faintly — then felt it again.
That pull.
She looked up.
Lola stood further up the rocks, the teacher speaking animatedly beside her.
But Lola wasn’t looking at the teacher.
She was looking at Amelia.
The moment their eyes met, Lola’s expression shifted — too quickly to read — before she turned away.
A tightness coiled low in Amelia’s stomach.
“You’re distracted,” Ryan said quietly.
“I’m not.”
“You just tried to pick up a rock that’s clearly attached to the earth.”
She blinked down at her hand.
He wasn’t wrong.
“Sorry,” she murmured.
Ryan studied her face for a second longer than usual.
“Is something wrong?”
“No.”
Too fast.
The wind picked up, sharper now. Students’ voices carried unevenly across the cliffs.
The afternoon stretched longer than it should have.
At every rotation, Amelia felt Lola’s presence before she saw her. A flicker at the edge of her vision. A stillness when everyone else was moving.
It wasn’t hostile.
It wasn’t dramatic.
Just persistent.
Watching.
By the time they stopped for a final break before boarding the buses, Amelia’s shoulders were wound tight.
Ryan dropped down onto the grass beside her, close enough that their arms brushed.
“You’ve been somewhere else all afternoon,” he said gently.
“I haven’t.”
“You have.”
She didn’t answer.
He leaned back on his hands, squinting at her slightly.
“Is it me?”
“What?”
“Did I do something?”
The question startled her.
“No. Of course not.”
“Then what?”
She hesitated.
Across the field, she could see Lola sitting on a low stone wall, talking to someone — animated now, laughing.
But every so often, her gaze drifted.
Back.
Here.
“I just feel…” Amelia started, then stopped.
“Feel what?”
“Like I’m being watched.”
Ryan didn’t laugh.
He didn’t dismiss it.
He glanced casually over his shoulder, scanning the area before looking back at her.
“Well,” he said lightly, “there are about sixty teenagers here. Statistically, someone is always watching someone.”
She let out a breath that was almost a laugh.
“That’s not comforting.”
He tilted his head slightly.
“Okay. Then tell me what’s actually going on.”
Amelia pressed her palms into the grass beside her, grounding herself in the scratch of it.
She didn’t want to sound dramatic.
Didn’t want to admit how tense she felt over something so small.
“Lola’s just… acting weird,” she said finally.
Ryan’s expression shifted subtly at the name.
“How?”
“I don’t know.” She shook her head. “It’s nothing.”
He didn’t look convinced.
But he didn’t push.
Instead, he nudged her shoulder gently with his own.
“You don’t have to pretend you’re fine if you’re not.”
The words landed deeper than she expected.
Across the field, Lola stood.
And this time, when her eyes found Amelia’s —
she didn’t look away.
The tension in Amelia’s chest tightened another notch.
The buses were loading soon.
The day was almost over.
But something had shifted.
And for the first time, the field trip didn’t feel like an escape.
It felt like a line being quietly drawn.
- Writer
