Brooklyn
The girls’ locker room was almost empty after school.
Only the occasional slam of lockers and distant laughter echoed through the long room as I stood in front of my locker, staring at my reflection in the small mirror attached to the metal door.
I packed my hair into a ponytail slowly, looping the band around it twice before tightening it firmly.
But honestly, my mind was barely in that locker room.
It was back in Mrs Sinclair’s house. In Tyler’s bedroom, replaying that cold, ungrateful expression on Tyler’s face when he told me we’d changed.
Like I was some random person he’d drifted apart from. Like we hadn’t once laughed at each other’s underwear.
“Maybe we’re different people now.” The words rang painfully in my head again, sharp enough for me to tug my ponytail tight
