Chapter 1: The Secret I Couldn’t Say

I’d had a crush on my childhood friend for five years, but when I found out she was into the most popular guy at school, I decided it was time to let go.

It was the kind of secret that weighed heavy in my chest—one of those slow-burn, can’t-breathe crushes you never admit out loud. Five years is a long time to hold onto something like that. Especially when you’re just a kid, still trying to figure out who you are. I’d convinced myself I could keep it hidden forever, until the day I saw her eyes light up for someone else. That’s when I knew I had to move on, even if it hurt like hell.

I asked to switch seats. I stopped eating with them, quit studying with them, even stopped walking home together.

Every step away felt like a betrayal—of them, of myself, of all those memories we’d built. But it was the only way I could breathe again. Lunch in the library, headphones on. Pretending the world was smaller and quieter than it really was. Walking home alone, the silence stretched out behind me like a shadow I couldn’t shake.

Before Mom and I moved out of Maple Heights, I finally stuffed the necklace I’d made—one I’d never had the guts to give her—into the desk of the girl who sat in front of her.

My hands shook as I tucked it inside, the cheap beaded chain and awkwardly knotted clasp suddenly looking so childish in the harsh classroom light. I wondered if she’d ever find it, or if the next person would just toss it aside with a shrug. The goodbye felt unfinished, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it face-to-face.

"You’re a good person. Thought you might like this."

I wrote it on a scrap of notebook paper, my handwriting shaky. I stared at the words for a long time. I hoped it sounded casual, not desperate. I hoped she’d smile, maybe even wonder who it was from, but never guess the truth. It was all I could manage.

I never thought I’d see Savannah Langley again.

Maple Heights felt like a world away after we left. Sometimes I could almost remember the way the air smelled in spring. I kept telling myself that was a good thing. But sometimes at night, I’d catch myself tracing the shape of her name in my mind, wondering if she ever thought of me at all.

But when we ran into each other again, the necklace that was supposed to go to the girl who sat in front of her was hanging around her neck.

It caught the light just so—a flash of color that made my heart stumble. She wore it like it meant something, like it belonged there... My stomach did a weird flip. For a split second I wondered if she’d known all along. The past rushed back, sharp and sudden, as if the years between us had never happened.

And when she saw the woman standing beside me, shoulder to shoulder, she bit her lip hard.

Her gaze flicked between us, her jaw tense. She looked like she was fighting back words she didn’t want to say. For a second, I saw the old Savannah—the one who never let her guard down, not even with me. Her fingers toyed with the necklace at her throat, as if it could anchor her to the moment.

"You don’t want me anymore?"

Her voice was barely above a whisper, rough at the edges. It was the kind of question you don’t ask unless you’re already bracing for the answer. The words hung between us, heavy and fragile, like something that might shatter if I breathed wrong.

The day the track meet ended, a huge piece of gossip spread through the whole school.

It was the kind of thing that travels faster than wildfire in a small town. You know how it is. By the time I got to my locker, whispers were already ricocheting off the walls, bouncing from group to group. Everyone knew something had happened—even if they didn’t know exactly what.

The year’s top student and homecoming queen, Savannah Langley, was dating Chase Monroe, the school heartthrob.

It was all anyone could talk about. Savannah and Chase—the golden couple everyone secretly rooted for, even if they’d never admit it. I heard their names paired together so many times that day, it started to sound like a brand instead of two real people. Honestly, it made me want to scream.

As a friend of both of them, I was cornered by gossip-hungry classmates the moment I got to school.

They swarmed around me at my locker, voices overlapping, eyes bright with curiosity. I could feel their excitement, their hunger for a new story to chew on. It was like being the only witness to a small-town scandal, and they wanted every last detail.

"You three always hang out together. You must know what’s going on, right?"

Someone leaned in so close I could smell their peppermint gum. The air was thick with anticipation. I felt like a deer caught in headlights, trapped by their questions and the way they all seemed to expect an answer I didn’t want to give.

Their curious, prying eyes fixed on me. I thought of the video I’d seen not long ago, and my stomach twisted.

I remembered the clip someone had posted—Savannah and Chase, caught in a moment that looked more intimate than it really was. The comments had exploded overnight. Watching it had left a pit in my stomach I couldn’t shake.

If Chase hadn’t fallen on the track during the 800-meter race—his old injury still not healed—and if Savannah hadn’t rushed to help him to the nurse’s office, none of this would have happened.

It was a twist of fate, a split-second decision that changed everything. One stumble, one act of kindness, and suddenly the whole school was convinced they were in love. I wondered if things might have turned out differently if Chase had just sat that race out.

Someone caught the two of them sharing a look—one of those looks—and recorded it.

The video was shaky, the sound muffled, but the way Savannah looked at Chase was clear as day. It was the kind of look you can’t fake—soft, almost vulnerable. That image burned itself into my mind, replaying every time I closed my eyes.

Until then, I never realized Savannah liked Chase…

It hit me like a punch. How could I have missed it? Was I really that clueless?

I should’ve known sooner.

It stung. Maybe I hadn’t wanted to see it. Maybe I’d been too wrapped up in my own feelings to notice what was happening around me.

There were plenty of times Chase came to find us, and through the classroom window, I’d seen the way Savannah’s eyes lit up when she looked at him.

I could picture it now—her smile just a little brighter, her laugh a little softer when he was around. The memory made my chest ache, same as always. Maybe even worse.

How could I have been so slow to notice?

I replayed every conversation, every walk home, searching for clues I’d missed. It was like reading a book for the second time and suddenly understanding all the hidden meanings.

Savannah and Chase—whether it was family background or looks—they were a perfect match.

They belonged to the same world, one I’d only ever visited as a guest. They looked like they’d stepped out of a magazine spread, all effortless style and easy confidence. I felt plain next to them. Like a background character in their story.

One was the homecoming queen, the other the school heartthrob.

Their photos were everywhere—on the walls of the gym, in the yearbook, even in the local paper. People talked about them like they were already legends. Destined for bigger things.

If Savannah liked anyone, it’d have to be Chase.

It made sense, didn’t it? He was everything I wasn’t: charming, fearless, the kind of guy everyone wanted to be or be with. I mean, come on. I couldn’t compete with that, not in a million years.

Maybe spending all those years with them made me forget I was never really part of their world.

I’d always been the odd one out, tagging along at the edge of their orbit. I told myself it didn’t matter, that friendship was enough. But now, I saw how far away I really was.

My mom worked for Savannah’s family, so I’d crossed paths with them by chance.

We lived in the little house behind their sprawling colonial, tucked out of sight. Mom cleaned their rooms, cooked their meals. I was just the help’s kid. Sometimes, it felt like I was invisible. Invited in out of politeness more than anything else.

But in truth, I’d never truly fit into their circle.

At birthday parties, I hovered near the snack table, watching Savannah laugh with her friends from dance class and tennis camp. I always felt a step behind, like I was waiting for someone to tell me I didn’t belong.

The watch Chase bought on a whim cost as much as my mom made in a year.

I’d seen him flash it around, not out of arrogance, but because he didn’t think twice about it. It was just another shiny thing in a life full of them. I couldn’t imagine spending that much on anything. Not in this lifetime.

Savannah’s dresses never dipped below four digits…

She’d show up to school in designer labels, her hair always perfect. I wore thrift store jeans and sneakers with the soles coming loose. I tried not to care, but it was hard not to notice the gap between us.

Thinking that, I shoved the birthday gift I’d prepared for Savannah even deeper into my desk.

It was a little box, wrapped in recycled paper and tied with twine. I’d picked out the beads myself, saving up for months. Now, it felt silly and small, not even worth giving. What was I thinking?

My mood faded. "I don’t know anything about them."

I mumbled it, eyes on my shoes. The lie tasted bitter. I wanted to disappear. Melt into the floor. Anything to never answer another question about Savannah and Chase again.

"How could you not know?" someone pressed, their tone sharp.

The words stung, but I kept my face blank. I was used to being invisible, but today, I was the center of attention for all the wrong reasons.

Others chimed in, "Are you trying to cover for them? Come on, don’t lie to us. We won’t tell the teachers!"

Their voices rose, a chorus of accusation. I could feel my cheeks burning, the pressure building. I wanted to shout, to run, to do anything but stand there and take it.

"Yeah! There’s no way Savannah ever looked at anyone like that. If you say she doesn’t like him, we don’t buy it!"

They were relentless, picking at every word, every hesitation. I felt trapped, my desk a flimsy barricade against their questions.

Their relentless questions had me surrounded, my desk barricaded on all sides.

I gripped the edge of the desk so hard my knuckles turned white. The room felt smaller, the air thick with expectation. It was like being put on trial for a crime I didn’t commit.

It was the first time in two years I’d felt so noticed at this school.

Usually, I could slip through the halls unnoticed, just another face in the crowd. Now, all eyes were on me. I hated it.

Right now, I wanted out.

I wanted to disappear, to crawl inside myself and never come out. I’d never felt so exposed, so raw.

I couldn’t hold back anymore—

My voice shook as I shouted, "I said I don’t know! Don’t you get it?"

The words echoed in the sudden silence. For a moment, no one moved. It was like I’d broken some unspoken rule.

It was the first time I’d ever lost my temper. Everyone went quiet, stunned.

I could feel their shock, their confusion. I’d always been the quiet one, the peacemaker. Now, I was the one making a scene.

Someone shuffled aside, leaving a gap.

The crowd parted, just enough for me to see past the wall of bodies. My heart pounded in my chest, a wild, frantic beat.

Through it, I saw Savannah and Chase standing just outside the crowd.

They looked out of place, like they’d stepped into the wrong story. Chase’s arm was in a sling, Savannah’s face unreadable.

I hadn’t even noticed them come back from the nurse’s office.

They must’ve slipped in while everyone was distracted. The timing felt almost cruel.

The two of them—handsome guy and pretty girl, shoulder to shoulder—were impossible not to look at. Even students in the hallway stopped to stare.

They had that kind of presence—attention just found them, whether they wanted it or not. For a second, I forgot to breathe.

Savannah’s cool gaze landed on me. "Come with me for a second."

Her voice cut through the noise, low and commanding. She didn’t care who was watching. She never did.

Under everyone’s nosy stares, she called me out of the classroom, totally unconcerned about rumors.

Heads turned as we walked past. I could feel their stares burning into my back, but Savannah didn’t flinch. She moved like she owned the place, and maybe she did.

Honestly, there was no need to worry. No one would ever think there was something between her and me.

I was just the friend—the one who faded into the background. No one would ever suspect anything else. That thought stung more than I cared to admit.

"Why did you have Chase run the 800 meters for you today?" Savannah’s tone was full of accusation, making my heart drop like ice.

Her eyes were sharp, her words colder than the wind outside. I felt like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar, even though I hadn’t done anything wrong. But I still felt guilty.

I told you before: if you don’t want to run, don’t sign up. Dropping out at the last minute and making Chase clean up your mess—he almost messed up his foot because of you.

She didn’t even wait for an explanation. The words tumbled out, heavy and final. I wanted to defend myself, but the lump in my throat wouldn’t budge.

She was blaming me from the start.

It was easier, I guess, to have someone to blame. I became the villain in her story, the reason Chase got hurt. I could see it in her eyes—she needed someone to be angry at, and I was right there.

I wanted to tell her I never signed up for the 800 meters—someone put my name down as a prank.

I wanted to tell her it wasn’t that I didn’t want to run—my mom fainted today and I’d spent the whole day at the hospital with her.

I wanted to tell her I never asked Chase to run for me. I told the gym teacher to find someone else, but somehow it ended up being Chase…

The words piled up inside me, desperate to get out. But her eyes were like a wall, shutting me out before I even tried.

But when I met her cold eyes, all my urge to explain just disappeared.

I swallowed hard, the words dying in my throat. Maybe it wouldn’t have mattered anyway.

She liked Chase. Whether or not I had my reasons, the fact was, I’d gotten Chase hurt.

That was all that counted. The details didn’t matter. She’d already decided who was at fault.

She probably knew I didn’t mean it. She just couldn’t help blaming me.

Maybe she was scared, or maybe she just needed somewhere to put her anger. Either way, I became the target.

Blaming me for hurting the person she cared about.

It was almost comforting, in a twisted way. At least she cared enough to be angry. At least she felt something.

So explaining wouldn’t make her any less angry.

I let the silence stretch. The air felt heavy, like a storm about to break.

"Sorry."

My voice came out small, barely more than a whisper. I stared at the floor, unable to meet her eyes.

I kept my gaze down. I couldn’t say anything else.

It was the only thing I could do. The only thing she’d let me do.

Savannah frowned. "You shouldn’t apologize to me. You should apologize to Chase."

Her words were clipped, her tone icy. It stung, but I nodded anyway. I was used to following her lead.

"Okay."

I kept my voice steady, even though my hands were shaking. Maybe it was too quick, too easy. Maybe she expected me to push back, to fight for myself. But I was tired of fighting.

Maybe I answered too quickly, too decisively. She was momentarily at a loss for words, her brows furrowing deeper.

She looked at me like she was searching for something, some sign that I cared as much as she did. But I couldn’t give it to her. Not anymore.

Her dark eyes lingered on me, as if she wanted to say something more, but in the end, all she said was, "Mm."

It was barely a sound, but it was enough.

I didn’t look at her. I turned and headed for Chase’s classroom.

My feet felt heavy, each step harder than the last. I wondered if he’d even care about my apology, or if it was just another box to check off.

Chase, Savannah, and I weren’t in the same class.

We only saw each other in the halls, at lunch, or after school. It was always Chase who made the effort, who kept the three of us together. I never realized how much work that took until now.

Usually, after class, at lunch, and on the way home, Chase came to find us, and then the three of us walked together.

He’d show up with that easy grin, slinging his backpack over one shoulder, acting like the world was his for the taking. I used to think we were all equals, but now I saw the cracks in that illusion. I guess I was wrong.

I’d never thought much of it before—just figured we were all good friends.

Maybe I was naïve. Maybe I wanted to believe I belonged, even if I didn’t.

But now, I realized I’d just been a third wheel, always wedged between them, getting in the way.

It was a harsh truth, but I couldn’t deny it anymore. I was the odd one out, the spare part no one really needed.

Maybe they’d been annoyed at me for not picking up on the obvious.

Maybe they’d rolled their eyes behind my back, wondering why I couldn’t take a hint. The thought made my stomach twist.

It didn’t matter that I hadn’t realized before. Now that I did, I wasn’t about to keep forcing myself into their group.

I made a promise to myself, right then and there: I wouldn’t be the tagalong anymore. I’d find my own way, even if it meant being alone. Maybe especially then.

For several days, I stopped eating lunch with them out by the bleachers.

I found a new spot, tucked away in the back corner of the library, where no one would bother me. The silence was comforting, if a little lonely.

After school, I found reasons to stay behind, refusing to walk home with them.

I lingered in the classroom, pretending to finish homework or help the teacher. Anything to avoid that awkward walk home.

When they invited me to the library on the weekend, I didn’t go, even when Chase called me.

I let his calls go to voicemail, staring at the screen until it went dark. I told myself it was for the best. But it still hurt.

Maybe my sudden avoidance was too obvious.

People started to notice, whispering behind my back. I tried not to care, but the looks still hurt.

Savannah finally noticed.

She cornered me after class, her eyes sharp and accusing. I braced myself for the confrontation I knew was coming.

When Chase swung by after school to get us, I’d just said I hadn’t finished my assignments when Savannah walked over to my desk.

She didn’t waste time with pleasantries. Savannah never did.

"Which ones haven’t you finished?"

Her voice was clipped, her posture rigid. I felt like I was being interrogated. I hated it.

Her tone was sharp, like an interrogation.

I tried to keep my face neutral, but I could feel the guilt creeping in. I hated lying to her, but I couldn’t tell her the truth.

I felt a little guilty. "A lot."

I mumbled, hoping she’d drop it. Of course, she didn’t.

"How many is a lot? You’ve been working for days—still not done?"

She leaned in, her eyes narrowing. She wasn’t going to let this go.

"I’m slow, not very smart. I can’t finish quickly."

It was a weak excuse, but it was all I had. I kept my eyes on my notebook, pretending to be busy.

"If you can’t do it, why didn’t you come to me?"

Her voice softened just a bit, but the edge was still there. I felt my defenses crumbling.

Savannah’s questions came one after another, and suddenly, all the feelings I’d bottled up for days threatened to spill over.

It was like a dam breaking, all my frustration and sadness rushing to the surface. I clenched my fists under the desk, willing myself not to cry. Don’t cry. Not here.

Just as I was about to lose it, Chase stepped in, "Savvy, what’s with you? You’re scaring our little Jamie."

He grinned, trying to lighten the mood. His arm draped over my shoulders, warm and familiar. For a second, I almost believed things could go back to the way they were. But they couldn’t.

He threw an arm around my shoulders. "Forget the homework for today, okay? It’s Savvy’s birthday—you’re coming, right?"

His words caught me off guard. I’d forgotten it was her birthday. The guilt hit me all over again.

At the mention of her birthday, I froze.

Savannah’s eyes bored into me, full of disappointment. I felt like I’d failed her in a hundred different ways.

Savannah’s cool eyes were still fixed on me, like she was blaming me for forgetting even this.

I couldn’t meet her gaze. I stared at the floor, wishing I could disappear.

In the end, Chase dragged me along with them.

He always knew how to get his way. Before I knew it, I was being pulled out of my chair and into the hallway, my protests lost in the noise.

Savannah came from money, so her birthday party was anything but simple.

The whole town seemed to show up, dressed to impress. The country club glittered with fairy lights and laughter, the air thick with perfume and expensive cologne.

When the three of us arrived, Savannah and Chase were instantly surrounded by people.

They were the stars of the show, swept up in a sea of well-wishers. I hung back, clutching my bag, feeling invisible.

I was swallowed up by the crowd, completely ignored.

No one noticed when I slipped away, weaving through clusters of laughing teenagers and gossiping moms. I found a quiet corner by the window, watching the party from a safe distance.

For the first time, I felt the distance between us so clearly.

It was like looking at them through a pane of glass—close enough to touch, but a world apart. I wondered if they even noticed I was gone.

Actually, I’d known Savannah since middle school. I only met Chase in high school.

He’d transferred in sophomore year, all easy charm and crooked smiles. He made friends fast—too fast, maybe. Slipping into our lives like he’d always been there.

But he was easy to get along with, and we hit it off right away. He often came to find me, and over time, I got to know Savannah better, too.

He’d crack jokes during study hall, drag us out for late-night milkshakes at the diner. With him around, the world felt bigger, brighter.

Then we found out Chase lived in Savannah’s neighborhood.

It felt like fate, like the universe was nudging them together. I tried not to think about what that meant for me.

Even if they’d met a little late, some people are just meant to end up together, no matter when they meet.

I watched them from across the room, their laughter blending into the music. They fit together so perfectly, it almost hurt to look at them.

Through the sea of people, I watched Savannah and Chase get pushed together by the crowd, everyone teasing them about being a perfect match. Chase laughed along, and Savannah even smiled a little.

They looked happy—genuinely happy. For a second, I let myself believe it was enough just to see them like that. But it wasn’t.

Suddenly, I realized coming here was a mistake.

I hadn’t brought a gift. I hadn’t even wished her happy birthday. I was just a shadow at the edge of their story.

So I quietly slipped out of the country club banquet hall.

No one stopped me. No one noticed. The night air was cool against my skin, a sharp contrast to the warmth inside. I walked home alone, the sound of laughter fading behind me.

When I got home, I went straight to bed.

I buried my face in the pillow, trying to forget the way Savannah’s eyes had looked right through me. Sleep came slowly, heavy and restless.

But in the middle of the night, someone knocked on the door.

The sound jolted me awake. My heart hammered in my chest as I stumbled out of bed, half-dreaming.

Half-asleep, I thought it was my mom and went to open it.

I rubbed my eyes, yawning, expecting to see her tired smile. Instead, I was met with something else entirely.

But it was Savannah standing there, looking furious.

She looked furious, her arms crossed tight over her chest. Rain dripped from her hair, leaving dark spots on the carpet. She must have walked over in the middle of the night, just to see me.

"Why did you leave without saying anything?"

Her voice was sharp, but underneath it, I heard something like hurt. I didn’t understand. Did my being there really matter that much to her?

I searched her face for a clue, but she gave nothing away. I wondered if she’d even noticed I was gone, or if she was just angry out of habit.

Didn’t she look happy in all those birthday videos people posted in the class group chat?

I’d seen the photos—her laughing with Chase, blowing out candles, surrounded by friends. She looked like she was having the time of her life.

"Where’s my birthday present?"

Her words caught me off guard. I hesitated, thinking of the little box hidden at the bottom of my desk. It felt too small, too cheap, compared to everything else she’d gotten.

I remembered the gift I’d spent months preparing, then thought of the video where Chase gave her a necklace worth thousands.

His gift had been the talk of the party—a delicate gold chain with a tiny diamond pendant. Mine was a mess of beads and string, made with more hope than skill. It wasn’t even close.

Suddenly, I felt awkward and embarrassed.

I looked down at my bare feet, wishing I could sink through the floor. I didn’t want her to see how much I cared, not when it would never be enough.

Not only had we gotten her the same kind of gift, but his was outrageously expensive, and mine was just a few bucks’ worth of materials, rough and handmade.

I could picture her opening it, laughing at how childish it looked. The thought made my cheeks burn. I wanted to disappear.

"I forgot. I didn’t bring anything."

It was a lie, but it was easier than telling the truth. I hoped she’d let it go.

Savannah’s breath caught for a second.

She looked like she wanted to say something, but the words got stuck. For a moment, I thought she might cry.

Before she could say anything else, footsteps echoed in the hallway.

I heard my mom’s voice, soft and tired, drifting from the kitchen. Panic flared in my chest.

I stepped back and closed the door.

I closed it gently—firm enough to end the conversation. I leaned against it, listening to her footsteps fade away.

Savannah seemed furious that I hadn’t given her a birthday gift, and she ignored me for over a week.

She walked past me in the halls without a word, her shoulders stiff. I tried to catch her eye, but she always looked away. The silence between us grew heavier with each passing day. I hated it.

Maybe she thought I’d cave first, like always, and apologize.

She was used to me giving in, smoothing things over. But this time, I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

But this time, I didn’t.

I let the days go by, each one colder than the last. I wondered if she missed me, even a little.

Instead, I went to the teacher and asked to switch seats, moving away from the desk in front of hers.

It felt like closing a door that had been half-open for too long. I packed up my things, trying not to look back. But I wanted to.

Savannah never had to move when the seating chart changed each month.

She was the kind of student teachers loved—smart, well-behaved, always at the top of her class. No one ever asked her to move. It was an unspoken rule.

As her friend, I’d always been allowed to stay put, so I usually sat in front of her.

It was our routine—her tapping my shoulder for notes, passing me gum during boring lectures. It felt strange to break it. I missed it more than I thought I would.

When I suddenly moved, Savannah’s expression darkened.

She glared at me from across the room, her jaw clenched tight. I could feel her anger radiating like heat.

She pulled me into the stairwell, demanding to know what I meant by it.

Her grip on my arm was firm, her voice low and urgent. She wanted answers, but I didn’t have any to give. Not anymore.

I tried to leave, but she blocked me with her arm.

She was taller than me, just enough to make it hard to slip past. I stared at the peeling paint on the wall, refusing to meet her eyes.

As we struggled, Chase came up the stairs and caught us.

He stopped mid-step, eyebrows raised. The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife.

We hadn’t been doing anything, but the look in Chase’s eyes made me feel weirdly guilty, as if I’d been caught cheating.

He looked at us like he was seeing something he didn’t want to see. I felt a blush creep up my neck.

That day, Chase hinted, "Do you like Savvy, too?"

He said it lightly, like a joke, but his eyes were serious. The question hung in the air, impossible to ignore. I didn’t answer.

The way he said "too" made his meaning clear.

He knew. Or at least, he suspected. I wondered how long he’d been waiting for me to admit it.

"Jamie, you’re my best bro. I don’t want us falling out over Savvy, you get that, right?"

His words were meant to reassure, but they only made me feel more alone. I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

Chase sounded just like always, but somehow, he felt like a stranger.

His smile didn’t reach his eyes. I wondered if he was as lost as I was, or if he’d already moved on. Probably the latter.

Or maybe, I’d never really known him at all.

Maybe none of us had really known each other. Maybe we were all just pretending.

Then, as footsteps approached, he missed a step and fell down the stairs right in front of me.

It happened so fast, I barely had time to react. One moment he was there, the next he was tumbling down, arms flailing.

Luckily, Savannah arrived in time to catch him. Of course she did.

She moved without thinking, grabbing his arm and steadying him. Her face was pale, her hands shaking.

He looked at me and said, "It wasn’t Jamie. We just had a little argument, and I lost my balance. You know my foot’s injured."

His voice was calm, but I could hear the strain underneath. He was covering for me, even though he didn’t have to.

It sounded like an explanation, but really, it was more of a cover-up.

He wanted to protect me, or maybe just keep the peace. Either way, I felt a surge of gratitude—and guilt. Mostly guilt.

From a dozen steps away, I saw the cold, disappointed look Savannah gave me.

She didn’t say a word, but her eyes spoke volumes. I felt like I’d failed her all over again.

She didn’t believe me.

It hurt more than I expected. I wanted to explain, to make her understand, but the words wouldn’t come.

My heart sank.

The weight of her disappointment settled over me like a blanket. I wanted to run, to hide, to be anywhere but here.

I turned to leave.

I didn’t look back. I couldn’t.

Savannah, looking uncharacteristically grim, chased after me and blocked my way.

She moved fast, cutting me off before I could escape. Her eyes were wild, her breath coming in short bursts.

"What’s with you lately?"

Her voice was rough, almost pleading. I could hear the hurt behind the anger. I almost felt sorry for her.

"He already said it—he lost his balance. What, are you here to blame me, too?"

I tried to keep my voice steady, but it came out sharper than I intended.

"Apologize!"

Her demand echoed in the empty stairwell. I flinched, caught off guard by her intensity.

"…"

The silence stretched between us, heavy and uncomfortable. I could feel her eyes boring into me, waiting for an answer.

She gripped my wrist so hard it hurt.

Her fingers dug into my skin, leaving little crescent moons. I wondered if she knew how much it hurt. Probably not.

"Are you going to apologize or not?"

Her voice was barely above a whisper, but it was fierce. She wouldn’t let go until I gave her what she wanted.

Her cold eyes were so sharp, it felt like they could pierce right through me. Like if I didn’t apologize, she wouldn’t let me go.

I stared at her, searching for the girl I used to know. All I saw was anger and pain.

After a minute of tense silence, I forced down the bitterness and said, "Savannah."

Her name tasted strange on my tongue, like something I wasn’t supposed to say anymore. But I said it anyway.

She frowned.

She looked confused, like she didn’t recognize me. Maybe she didn’t.

I spoke, word by word, "Do you know how annoying you are right now?"

The words came out sharper than I meant, but I didn’t take them back. I couldn’t.

She froze, staring at me in shock.

For a moment, the anger drained from her face, replaced by something like hurt. I almost apologized, but I held my ground. I had to.

I shook off her hand and walked back to the classroom.

My wrist throbbed where she’d grabbed me. I didn’t look back.

That was the toughest thing I’d ever said to Savannah. It was also the last thing I said to her before I left that school.

I replayed the moment over and over in my head, wondering if I’d done the right thing. It didn’t matter. The damage was done.

Because soon after, my mom and I moved out of Maple Heights.

We packed up our lives in cardboard boxes, leaving behind the only home I’d ever known. The goodbye was quiet, almost anticlimactic. I thought it would hurt more.

The day we left the Langleys, I hesitated for a long time but couldn’t bring myself to throw out the necklace.

I held it in my palm, the beads warm from my touch. It felt heavier than ever.

So I snuck back to school and slipped it into the desk in front of Savannah’s.

I moved quickly, hoping no one would see me. My heart pounded in my chest as I slid the box inside.

I left a note:

"You’re a good person. Thought you might like this."

It was the only way I could say goodbye. I hoped she’d understand, even if she never knew it was from me.

I didn’t know who’d be sitting at that desk after the new semester started, or if the thing I left behind would just get tossed as trash.

I tried not to think about it. I told myself it didn’t matter. But part of me hoped she’d find it, and know.

I left all my feelings for Savannah, along with that necklace, in the past. Or so I told myself.

After transferring schools, I deleted Savannah’s contact info and got a new phone number.

I wiped my phone clean, erasing every trace of her. It felt final, but necessary.

I threw myself into my studies, determined to adjust quickly and not let my grades slip. All through senior year, I barely had time to think about the past.

The days blurred together—tests, essays, college applications. I kept my head down, focused on the future. The past stayed buried.