Chapter 7: Dear Diary new rules!
1017 Words
I should have kept walking. That was the smart thing to do. The obvious thing. The thing any girl with functioning instincts would have done. Instead, I followed Heather down the empty corridor like common sense had temporarily left my body.
She stopped near the stairwell and turned to face me. The late afternoon sun slipped through the high windows, touching one side of her face and making her look softer than she was.
“You look nervous,” she said.
“I’m not.”
“You are.” She said it casually, like she was commenting on the weather.
I crossed my arms. “What do you want?”
She studied me for a moment. “To help you.”
I laughed once. “That sounds fake.”
“It is a little.” At least she was honest. The smile she gave me after that was almost warm. Almost. “You’re new,” she said. “So I’ll be kind.”
“I can survive without it.”
“Maybe,” she said. “But can you survive confusion?” I frowned. She took one slow step closer. “Luca likes attention.”
“That has nothing to do with me.”
“It has everything to do with you.”
My stomach tightened. “I barely know him.”
“Yes,” she said. “Which is why I’m trying to save you time. He gets bored quickly. He notices things because it entertains him. Then he moves on.”
“You seem very invested in someone else’s boredom.”
Her eyes flashed. Tiny. Fast. Then she smiled again. “Good. You do have teeth.”
I straightened instinctively. “You think I’m stupid.”
“No,” she said. “I think you’re inexperienced.” That somehow felt worse. She leaned lightly against the railing. “Girls like you mistake being noticed for being chosen.”
The words landed harder than I wanted them to. “Girls like me?”
“Girls who hide.” Her eyes moved over me once. Not cruelly. Accurately. “You apologize with your posture. You ask permission with your silence. You enter rooms like you owe everyone comfort.”
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out because I knew exactly what she meant. She saw that too. Of course she did.
“I’m not trying to hurt you, Aurora.”
“You’re doing a poor impression of kindness.”
That made her laugh a real laugh, brief and surprised. “Maybe I underestimated you.”
“I doubt that.”
“I don’t.” She pushed away from the railing. “Here’s free advice. If someone like Luca notices you, enjoy it. Just don’t build your worth around it.” She began to walk away, then paused. “And if you’re going to compete with me…” She looked back over her shoulder. “At least stand up straight.”
Then she left. I stayed where I was, burning with embarrassment and anger. Mostly anger. Because the worst part was not that she insulted me it was that some of it was true.
***
I got home in a mood. The front door annoyed me on sight. My mother looked up from the kitchen. “You’re late.”
“I arrived exactly when time allowed.”
She blinked. Fair.
Lorena was at the dining table painting her nails with the concentration of a surgeon. She glanced up once. “Oh no.”
“What?”
“You discovered sarcasm.”
“I met Heather.”
Lorena’s hand froze. Then very carefully, she screwed the lid back onto the polish. “And?”
“She’s horrible.”
Lorena considered that. “She usually hides it better.”
“She said she was helping me.”
Lorena barked out a laugh so sudden she nearly dropped the bottle. “Oh, she hates you.”
“That cannot be how normal people function.”
“You’d be shocked.” Lorena responded almost instantly
I dropped my bag onto a chair and sat across from her. “Why does everyone act like Luca is some kind of trophy?”
Lorena gave me a look. “That question is more interesting than you realize.”
“I hate when you talk like a villain.”
“She wants control,” Lorena said, ignoring me. “Luca doesn’t give it to anyone. That bothers her.”
“So she attacks random girls?”
“She attacks threats.”
I stared. “I am not a threat.”
Lorena’s expression changed slightly. Softened. “That’s because you still think threats have to look obvious.”
I looked away first. Habit. “She said I hide,” I muttered.
Lorena was quiet for a moment. Then: “Do you?”
I wanted to deny it. Instead, I said nothing.
She sighed. “Listen. Heather wins because people decide they’ve already lost. That’s dramatic, but it's true.” She stood and picked up her nail polish, then added casually: “Also, stand up straight. You slouch when you’re upset.”
I glared at her. “Are all beautiful people insufferable?”
“Yes,” she said. “Sleep well.”
That night, I stood in front of my mirror longer than usual. No quick glance. No half-look. No turning away. Just me. Round cheeks. Tired eyes. Shoulders curled inward like they were protecting something. Maybe they were.
Heather’s words replayed in my head: *You apologize with your posture.* I hated her for being right.
So I made rules. Not dramatic ones. Small ones.
* Rule one: Walk into school with your head up.
* Rule two: If someone says your name, don’t flinch.
* Rule three: Stop apologizing for existing.
* Rule four: Speak at least once tomorrow.
* Rule five: Look people in the eye.
* Rule six: Never let Heather see fear twice.
I wrote them in my diary, then underlined the last one.
I stared at the page for a long time. Tomorrow, I would either follow them or stay the same.
- Writer
