Amber and I
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“I can’t wait to start college!”
Amber’s voice carried across the field as effortlessly as the summer breeze. Strands of her blonde hair danced across her face, and she didn’t even bother brushing them away. Her smile was too bright for something as small as the wind to interrupt.
“Think about it!” she continued. “Cute older guys, gorgeous girls, and, most importantly...”
She wrapped her arms around me before I could react.
“Four more years with my best friend.”
I laughed under my breath and hugged her back, squeezing just as tightly.
“I’m excited too, Amber.”
The words came quietly.
They always did.
Amber had never needed to think about being expressive. Happiness seemed to spill out of her naturally, lighting up everyone around her. I’d always admired that about her. Sometimes I wondered what it would feel like to wear my heart so openly instead of keeping every emotion tucked safely behind a smile.
She had been doing that for me ever since we met.
Six years ago, I’d been barely holding myself together. Therapy appointments. Sleepless nights. Memories I couldn’t outrun. Then Amber had appeared in my life as though she’d simply decided I wasn’t allowed to face any of it alone.
Now we were almost eighteen.
Almost adults.
And somehow we were still sitting beside the same river just outside Port Tierve, watching the same fields sway beneath the summer sun.
Only this time, we were talking about leaving.
Four hours away.
A fresh start.
The thought settled warmly in my chest.
Maybe distance really could change a person.
Maybe somewhere new, no one would know the girl I’d been here.
“Nora?”
Amber pulled away from the hug, though she kept hold of my hand. Her fingers were warm, grounding me before my thoughts could drift too far.
“What’s your goal for college?”
I followed her gaze across the field.
How many afternoons had we spent sitting here?
Enough that I could probably find this spot blindfolded.
“I...” I hesitated.
The answer sounded so much smaller once I actually had to say it aloud.
“I want people to see me differently.”
I watched the wind ripple through the tall grass instead of looking at her.
“Back home I’ve always just been... the quiet girl in the back of the classroom.”
A bitter laugh escaped before I could stop it.
“The only reason anyone noticed me was because you were standing beside me.”
The words hung in the air longer than I wanted them to.
I’d never hated being invisible.
Invisible people weren’t expected to speak up.
No one watched you long enough to notice when you stumbled over your words or laughed at the wrong moment.
You couldn’t embarrass yourself if nobody was paying attention.
Amber had never understood that fear.
She couldn’t.
She was like a bonfire on a cold night. People gathered around her without thinking, drawn in by something impossible to explain. They laughed louder when she laughed. Smiled because she smiled.
I wasn’t jealous.
At least... I didn’t think I was.
I just couldn’t imagine what it felt like to be seen so easily.
When I finally looked back at her, her smile had softened.
Not out of pity.
Out of understanding.
“Nora.”
She turned toward me completely and took my other hand, holding both of them between hers.
“I love you.”
The words were so immediate they stole every thought from my head.
“So please don’t compare yourself to me.”
Her thumbs traced absent circles over my knuckles.
“And don’t ever talk about yourself like you’re somehow less than I am.”
I looked down at our hands, she’d held them like this countless times before.
Whenever I was scared, whenever I doubted myself, whenever I forgot how to breathe.
“I’m the spotlight,” she said with a small grin. “People notice me because I’m bright. Loud. A little impossible to ignore.”
A laugh escaped her.
“But you...”
She gave my hands another gentle squeeze.
“You’re the stage.”
I blinked.
“The spotlight might catch people’s attention, but without the stage...” She shrugged. “There’s no performance. Nothing to hold everything together.”
Her grin returned, brighter than ever.
“And besides, nobody wants a stage that screams louder than the spotlight.”
She winked.
Despite myself, I smiled.
Not because she’d magically fixed every insecurity I’d ever had. But because she somehow always knew exactly what to say to make carrying them feel a little easier.
That was Amber.
She couldn’t erase the darkness. She just had this incredible way of making you believe the light would find you eventually.
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I threw my arms around her before I could stop myself. “I love you too, Amber.” My voice came out quieter than I’d meant it to.
“I’m so happy I have you.” For a second, I thought I might cry. Not because I was sad. Because I couldn’t imagine where I’d be without her.
Amber had never asked me to be someone else. She never rolled her eyes when I got anxious or teased me for overthinking every little thing. If anything, she celebrated the parts of me I spent years trying to hide.
Maybe that was why college didn’t scare me as much as it should have. As long as Amber was there, I felt like I had a chance of becoming the person I’d always wanted to be.
I took a slow breath before standing up, brushing the grass from my jeans. Then I held out a hand toward her.
“I’m freezing.”
She looked up at me with a grin. “Let’s go to your place and make hot chocolate.” Her eyes lit up instantly.
“Yes!”
She grabbed my arm before I’d even finished speaking and sprang to her feet.
“Come on!”
“Amber—”
She was already running.
I stumbled after her, laughing as she nearly pulled me off balance before I managed to find my footing. Soon I was running too, trying—and failing—to keep up with her impossible amount of energy.
The walk home should have taken fifteen minutes. With Amber, it took barely half that. We burst through the front door, both slightly out of breath. The house greeted us with warmth and silence.A few moments later, soft footsteps creaked overhead.
Amber’s mom appeared at the top of the staircase, wrapped in a pale blue nightgown, sleep still clinging to her face. She blinked at us for a moment before a tired smile spread across her lips.
“Hello, Mom,” Amber and I said at exactly the same time. We looked at each other. Then burst into laughter. Her mom simply shook her head, like she’d seen this exact scene a hundred times before.
“Nora’s sleeping over tonight,” Amber announced. “She has to help me pack tomorrow.” Another knowing smile.
“I’ll get the spare mattress ready.” She didn’t wait for an answer before disappearing back upstairs.
Amber nudged my shoulder. “See? Easy.”
The kitchen quickly filled with familiar sounds. The kettle beginning to rumble.
A bag of chips opening.
The lid popping off the onion dip we’d somehow convinced ourselves counted as dinner. We leaned against the counter, talking about old teachers, embarrassing childhood memories, and all the little moments we’d somehow managed to forget until one of us mentioned them.
When the kettle clicked off, Amber carefully poured the hot water over two chocolate bombs. The shells cracked apart almost immediately, melting into rich cocoa as tiny marshmallows and rainbow sprinkles floated to the surface.
“Still the best invention ever,” Amber declared.
“I don’t think that’s scientifically true.”
“It is in my heart.”
I laughed.
“Fair enough.”
A little later, we curled up on the couch beneath the same oversized blanket we’d shared every time I stayed over. Some cheesy romantic comedy played on the television. Neither of us paid much attention.
We spent more time criticizing the plot than actually watching it.
“Nobody falls in love that fast,” I muttered.
Amber gasped dramatically.
“Don’t ruin the magic.”
“The magic disappeared when he confessed after knowing her for twelve hours.”
“They’re soulmates.”
“They’re strangers.”
She laughed so hard she nearly spilled her hot chocolate. By the time the credits rolled, we were both exhausted.
I changed into the pajamas Amber always kept for me—the pair she’d never worn herself because, at some point, they’d quietly become mine.
It made my chest feel strangely warm. Some people had toothbrushes for guests. Amber had pajamas. I settled onto the mattress beside her bed while she climbed beneath her blankets.
The room fell quiet. Outside, crickets sang somewhere beyond the open window.
“Nora?”
Amber’s voice was softer than usual.
“Mhm?”
“If I’d never walked up to you that day...”
She hesitated.
“Where do you think you’d be now?”
I stared at the ceiling.
The river drifted back into my mind.
I could still picture eleven-year-old Amber marching over to me like we’d already been friends for years. She hadn’t asked if she could sit beside me. She just had.
I smiled to myself.
“I don’t know.”
The words barely rose above a whisper.
“I think...”
I swallowed.
“I’d still be invisible.”
The room felt heavier somehow.
“I don’t think I’d know what it feels like to be seen.”
A tear slipped down my cheek before I could stop it. I wiped it away quickly and laughed under my breath, hoping she hadn’t noticed the crack in my voice.
“What about you?”
I turned onto my side to face her.
“Where do you think you’d be if you never found me?”
Part of me genuinely wanted to know. The other part just needed the conversation to stop being about me before I cried for real.
Amber took a slow breath.
“I’d probably still be bouncing between friend groups.”
I could hear the smile in her voice, even in the dark.
“I’d still be that girl who knew everyone but never really belonged anywhere.” She paused.
“I’d probably still think I had everything figured out.” A quiet laugh.
“But the higher you put yourself, the farther there is to fall.”
Silence settled between us for a moment. “I’m really glad I found you by that river.”
Another pause.
“I’m really glad you’re my anchor.”
I smiled into the darkness.
Maybe she thought she’d rescued me. Maybe she had. But somehow... I had saved her too.
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The next morning, sunlight spilled through the curtains, warming my face until I reluctantly opened my eyes. I lay still for a moment, listening to the quiet house before turning my head toward Amber’s bed.
She was still asleep.
Of course she was.
A smile tugged at my lips as I reached for my phone to check the time. We still had plenty to do before leaving, and if there was one thing I’d learned over the years, it was that Amber could turn packing into an all-day event.
Three years ago, on our camping trip, she’d packed so much that half her belongings had ended up outside the tent beneath a tarp because there simply wasn’t room inside. She’d remembered five different mascaras but somehow forgotten her toothbrush. I’d only noticed when we were already halfway there.
Some things never changed.
“Amber,” I called softly. “Come on. We have a lot to do.”
She groaned dramatically and buried her face deeper into her pillow.
“Five more minutes...”
“You said that ten minutes ago.”
“I did?”
“You will.”
She peeked at me through one half-open eye before laughing.
“You’re mean.”
“And you’re impossible.”
She finally dragged herself out of bed, still wrapped in her blanket like some kind of sleep-deprived burrito, and together we started the daunting task of packing the rest of her room.
Most of it was exactly what I expected: clothes she’d insisted she’d wear, books she probably wouldn’t read, and enough skincare products to stock a small pharmacy.
Then, while reaching beneath a pile of blankets and stuffed animals, my hand brushed against a small shoebox.
I pulled it out without thinking.
It wasn’t decorated or labeled, just an old cardboard box tucked so far out of sight that it almost seemed forgotten.
Or hidden.
I stared at it for a moment.
A dozen questions crossed my mind, but they faded almost as quickly as they came.
Everyone deserved to keep some things to themselves.
Even Amber.
Especially Amber.
I slid the box back exactly where I’d found it and continued packing as though I’d never seen it.
A few hours later, her room looked strangely empty. Suitcases stood lined up by the front door, ready to be loaded into the car. We spent another hour chatting with her mom over coffee, laughing about childhood stories she’d apparently been saving specifically to embarrass Amber before college.
Eventually, we carried everything outside and packed it into the trunk.
“My turn,” I said as we climbed into the car.
Luckily, my room had been packed for weeks.
I’d only left out the essentials, and every few days I’d swap out a change of clothes so I wouldn’t have to keep unpacking everything. Compared to Amber’s room, mine took barely any time at all.
Before long, we were back on the road.
Prince Braunwil.
In just a few hours, it wouldn’t just be a name on a map anymore. It would be home.
The thought made my stomach flutter with equal parts excitement and nerves.
About halfway through the drive, Amber pulled into a small parking area overlooking the coast.
“My legs have gone numb,” she announced, stretching her arms over her head.
“I was wondering how long it’d take before you complained.”
“I wasn’t complaining.”
“You literally just complained.”
“I was making an observation.”
I rolled my eyes, smiling as we climbed out of the car.
The salty breeze drifted in from the beach, carrying with it the faint smell of smoke.
A bonfire burned farther down the shore.
Around it sat a group of young people, laughing loudly enough for us to hear even from a distance. They looked a little older than us—maybe college students already.
I glanced sideways at Amber.
She hadn’t said a word.
She didn’t have to.
The mischievous grin spreading across her face told me exactly what she was thinking.
“No.”
“I didn’t even ask.”
“You were about to.”
“...Maybe.”
I sighed, unable to hide my smile.
“Come on, then.”
I reached for her hand, and without the slightest hesitation she let me pull her toward the fire.
Somehow, I’d become the one dragging Amber into trouble.
She walked straight up to a group of three people sitting on a blanket a little away from the others, introducing herself with the confidence only Amber seemed to possess.
I stayed back.
Close enough that she could wave me over if she wanted.
Far enough that I didn’t have to join in.
At first, the three strangers exchanged uncertain glances. One of them looked almost uncomfortable, and for a moment I wondered if we’d made a mistake coming over here at all.
Maybe I should rescue her.
The thought had barely crossed my mind before one of them laughed.
Then another.
Within seconds they were chatting with Amber as though they’d known her for years.
I couldn’t help smiling to myself.
Of course.
This was Amber.
She had a way of turning strangers into friends before anyone else had even learned their names.
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“That your friend?”
The voice came from so close behind me that I jumped.
Before I could think, I spun around and stumbled back a couple of steps, my fist already raised.
The boy’s eyes widened as he immediately lifted both hands in surrender.
“Woah,” he said with a nervous laugh. “Easy.”
I frowned, my heart still pounding.
My fist stayed clenched.
I looked him over out of habit. Flip-flops. Bright yellow swim shorts covered in tiny palm trees. A white tank top clung to him, still damp from the water, and his black hair looked like it had only half-dried. He was maybe half a head taller than me, with wide brown eyes that seemed more startled than threatening.
Still, appearances didn’t mean much.
I kept an arm’s length between us.
“What are you and your friend doing here?” he asked, lowering his hands slowly, as though he genuinely thought I’d hit him if he moved too quickly. “This is kind of a private party.”
I relaxed my arm, though my fingers refused to unclench.
“Your friend’s doing pretty well for someone who wasn’t invited.”
I glanced toward Amber.
She was sitting cross-legged on the blanket, laughing with the group as if they’d been friends since childhood.
I smiled despite myself.
“Yeah,” I said quietly. “She’s good at that.”
He followed my gaze before looking back at me, eyebrows lifting slightly.
“So...” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Why don’t you go join them?”
For a moment I searched his face, wondering if he was making fun of me.
He didn’t seem to be.
I looked back toward the fire.
Amber fit in anywhere.
I never had.
“I’m not like Amber,” I said after a moment. “She’s the spotlight.”
The words made me smile.
“I’m just the stage.”
He blinked.
For a second, I almost laughed at the confused look on his face.
I didn’t owe him an explanation.
Some things only made sense if you knew Amber.
I turned away before he could ask another question and walked over to where she was sitting.
She looked up the moment she noticed me.
“You ready to go?”
I nodded.
“I think so.”
Amber didn’t argue.
She simply stood up and flashed the group one last brilliant smile.
“This is Nora, by the way,” she said, gesturing toward me. “She’s the absolute best.”
Heat crept into my cheeks before I could stop it.
“We’ve got to get going,” Amber continued. “Hopefully we’ll see you guys again!”
A chorus of goodbyes followed us as she slipped her hand into mine and led us back toward the parking lot.
The moment we were out of earshot, the words started pouring out of her.
“The girl with the curly hair is Mia, she’s twenty, and she’s studying marine biology. The guy next to her was Elias, but everyone calls him Eli because apparently there were three Eliases in his class growing up. Oh—and the tall guy with the freckles? His name’s Theo. He grew up here, but he’s transferring to Braunwil this semester too...”
I laughed quietly.
“You were over there for, what... ten minutes?”
“Twelve.”
“You timed it?”
“No.”
She paused.
“...Maybe.”
I shook my head, smiling.
Somehow she’d managed to learn their names, where they were from, what they were studying, and probably half their life stories in less time than it would’ve taken me to introduce myself.
That was Amber.
She’d always been an over-explainer, eager to share every little detail before anyone had the chance to ask. I never minded.
In fact, I loved it.
For someone as quiet as me, her endless stream of words filled every silence before it had the chance to become uncomfortable.
I didn’t have to search for something clever to say.
I could simply listen.
And somehow, that had always been enough.
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I must have fallen asleep.
The gentle hum of the car had disappeared, replaced by distant voices and the dull thud of doors closing somewhere outside. I blinked a few times, trying to clear the sleep from my eyes, and looked out the window.
We were here.
The college towered above us, so tall I had to tilt my head back just to see the top. Sunlight reflected off what felt like hundreds of windows, making the building shimmer against the blue sky.
Students crossed the courtyard in small groups, laughing, talking, greeting one another as they passed. They all looked... older.
Not because of the way they dressed.
It was something else.
The way they walked.
The way they carried themselves.
Like they belonged here.
Like they already knew exactly where their lives were headed.
Maybe they did.
Or maybe they were just better at pretending.
“We’re here.”
Amber’s cheerful voice pulled me away from the window.
I looked over at her.
She was practically glowing.
Somehow, just hearing the excitement in her voice settled the knot that had been growing in my stomach ever since we left home. I wasn’t fully awake yet—my vision still felt slightly blurred, my thoughts slow and heavy—but smiling around Amber had never required much effort.
Before I’d even unbuckled my seatbelt, she’d already thrown open her door.
I was fairly certain that if the window had been big enough, she would’ve climbed out through that instead.
I laughed quietly and climbed out after her.
The warm afternoon air wrapped around us as we began unloading the car.
One suitcase.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Six.
I counted them automatically as Amber passed them out one after another. She’d always packed as though we were moving to another continent instead of another town.
Halfway through unloading, I noticed her scanning the parking lot.
Her eyes darted from one person to the next before suddenly lighting up.
“There!”
Before I could ask what she’d seen, she was already waving enthusiastically at two boys walking across the lot toward us.
Of course she was.
The two exchanged a quick glance before changing direction and heading straight for us.
“Hey!” Amber called, her voice carrying effortlessly across the parking lot.
I watched the familiar smile spread across her face.
It wasn’t fake.
It wasn’t manipulative.
It was simply... Amber.
She had this incredible ability to make people feel as though they’d known her forever.
“You two look strong,” she said with an innocent smile. “Would you mind helping Nora and me carry our luggage?”
Then came the puppy eyes.
She tilted her head ever so slightly, blinking up at them through her eyelashes.
I bit the inside of my cheek.
I’d seen that look enough times to know it was almost impossible to say no to.
Sure enough, both boys smiled almost immediately.
“I don’t think we have much of a choice now,” one of them joked.
Amber beamed.
“I’m Amber, by the way.”
She held out her hand, and each of them shook it in turn.
“I’m Alexander,” the taller one replied with an easy smile. “And this is Nicolas.”
“Nice to meet you both.”
“You too,” Alexander said, glancing at the mountain of luggage surrounding us. “And hello to you too, Nora.”
I offered a small wave.
“Hi.”
“We’d be happy to help.”
Before either Amber or I could protest, Alexander and Nicolas each picked up two suitcases and slung a backpack over one shoulder.
I stared at them for a second.
“That...” I muttered. “Was significantly easier than I expected.”
Amber leaned over with a grin.
“See? Sometimes all you have to do is ask.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Is that what you call what you just did?”
She gasped dramatically.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
I couldn’t help laughing.
With one suitcase each, we led the way toward our dorm, the four of us disappearing into the crowd of students beginning the next chapter of their lives.
