Trouble

It was the mud puddle that did it. Alex had been doing his best impersonation of a French revolutionary, waving a makeshift flag and delivering lines with exaggerated flair. Sarah stood behind her camera, rolling her eyes but secretly impressed with his commitment. They were nearly done with the last scene for their AP World History project, the culmination of hours of scripting, researching, and filming. Then he slipped. One dramatic twirl too many, and suddenly Alex was on the ground, landing with a splash in a slick patch of mud hidden in the grass. "You okay?" Sarah called while slightly snickering, already rushing toward him. "Vive la révolution," he groaned, wincing as he sat up and examined the scrape on his knee. Sarah knelt beside him, pulling out a small zippered pouch from her backpack. "Hold still." "You carry a first-aid kit?" "I got this when Gemma got sick the first time," she said quietly, dabbing at the wound with antiseptic. "I bring it everywhere now. Just in case." Alex studied her for a second. "You do that giggle when you're trying to pretend everything's fine." She blinked. "What giggle?" "That one you just did," he said gently. "Like you’re trying to laugh off the weight of the world." Sarah's hands paused. For a second, she didn’t know what to say. No one had ever pointed it out before. Or maybe no one had noticed. "You’ve been holding everyone else up," Alex added. "But who’s there when you need help?" She sat back on her heels, the dampness from the grass seeping into her jeans. "I don’t know how to ask. I’m supposed to be okay so Gemma doesn’t feel worse. And my parents already worry about everything. It’s easier just to… deal." Alex gave a small nod, pulling out a clean shirt and sweatpants from his bag. "You're not alone, you know." As he changed into dry clothes behind a bush with his back turned, Sarah sat cross-legged, staring at her camera. It was smeared with a little mud, but still intact. "It’s weird," she said aloud. "Sometimes I think this project is the only thing keeping me focused. It gives me a deadline. A shape." He returned, brushing wet hair out of his face. "Well, then, we better make it good." She smiled faintly. "Thank you. For not being a jerk about all this." "I mean, I fell in mud for you," he teased. She rolled her eyes but grinned. Then she stood up and reached toward his face. "You’ve got mud here." Her fingers brushed his cheek. Their eyes met. It was just a second—one breath too long—but it made both of them flush red and look away. "Uh, we should—" Sarah started. "Yeah. Daylight’s burning," Alex said, clearing his throat. They packed up the equipment in silence, an odd sort of calm between them. As they pushed their bikes home side by side, the sun dipping low behind the trees, Sarah realized something had shifted. Something small. But real. To Be Continued…