THE SONG WE NEVER FINISHED

The first thing Sofie ever stole from Ren Trevorn was a pencil.

The second was his heart.

Unfortunately for Ren, she had never returned either.

"You're doing it again."

Ren continued writing in his notebook.

"Doing what?"

"That thing."

He sighed. "You're going to have to be more specific."

Sofie leaned across the cafeteria table, narrowing her eyes at him with the seriousness of a detective interrogating a suspicious criminal.

"You're writing about me."

Ren immediately covered his notebook.

"I'm writing about the weather."

She glanced toward the windows. Outside, the November sky was a brilliant, cloudless blue.

"The weather?"

"Yes."

"What's the title?"

He hesitated.

"The Weather."

Sofie stared at him for two seconds before bursting into laughter.

"You're terrible at lying, Ren."

"And you're terrible at minding your business."

"Your business is my business. That's what best friends are for."

She reached across the table and tried to pull the notebook from beneath his hand. Ren held on, and for several seconds they struggled over it, laughing quietly while the other students around them continued eating and talking.

Finally, Sofie gave up.

"For now," she announced.

Ren relaxed.

"Good."

"But I'm going to find out what you're writing eventually."

"Maybe when we're eighty."

"Perfect. I'll visit you in the nursing home and read everything aloud."

"You're assuming we'll still be friends when we're eighty?"

She stopped smiling.

Only for a moment.

"Of course we'll still be friends."

She said it so confidently that Ren felt a strange warmth spread through his chest.

He wanted to tell her that he hoped they would be more than friends by then.

Instead, he picked up his pencil.

"Then you'd better start practicing your old-lady voice."

Sofie threw a napkin at him.

He laughed.

And just like that, the moment passed.

Neither of them knew how many moments like that they would eventually wish they could have back.

Ren and Sofie had known each other since they were six.

Their mothers had met at a neighborhood gathering, and what began as an ordinary introduction had turned into a friendship that survived scraped knees, school examinations, family disagreements, terrible haircuts, and the many embarrassing phases of growing up.

They had shared birthday cakes, school lunches, secrets, and dreams.

They had learned to ride bicycles together on the quiet streets of their neighborhood. Sofie had been the first to master it, and she had spent the following week laughing at Ren whenever he lost his balance.

Ren had retaliated by refusing to help her with her spelling homework.

She had cried.

He had apologized.

She had forgiven him before the end of the afternoon.

That was how it had always been between them.

They could argue about almost anything and somehow find their way back to each other before the day ended.

By the time they reached their final year of high school, people rarely mentioned one of them without mentioning the other.

Teachers knew them as the inseparable pair who always volunteered for music assignments. Their classmates knew that if Ren was sitting alone beneath the old oak tree near the gymnasium, Sofie would probably appear within ten minutes, carrying two drinks and a complaint about something that had happened in class.

Their friends teased them constantly.

"You two should just date already," one classmate had told them the previous week.

Sofie had laughed.

Ren had nearly choked on his water.

"We're friends," she had replied.

"Best friends," Ren added too quickly.

Their classmate had raised an eyebrow.

"Whatever you say."

The conversation had ended, but the words had followed Ren home.

We're friends.

He had repeated them to himself that night as if they were a rule he had to obey.

Because the truth was becoming harder to ignore.

Ren loved Sofie.

He loved the way she sang the wrong lyrics to songs she had heard a hundred times. He loved the way she scrunched up her nose when she concentrated. He loved that she could tell when he was upset even when he insisted he was fine.

Most of all, he loved how easy it was to be himself around her.

With Sofie, silence was never uncomfortable. He could sit beside her for an hour without saying anything, and she would understand that he was thinking.

He could tell her the worst song he had ever written, and she would find something kind to say about it before helping him make it better.

She was the first person who had ever made him believe his words might matter to someone.

And that frightened him.

Because he couldn't imagine losing her.

He couldn't imagine telling her the truth and watching their friendship change into something neither of them knew how to handle.

So he wrote about her instead.

He wrote about her smile, her laughter, the way the world seemed brighter when she walked into a room.

He filled notebooks with feelings he could not bring himself to speak.

And every time he considered telling her, he convinced himself there would be a better moment.

After the next school concert.

After their final examinations.

After graduation.

There was always another tomorrow.

"Ren!"

He looked up from his notebook.

Sofie stood beside their table with her backpack hanging from one shoulder.

"Are you coming or not?"

"Where?"

She stared at him.

"Are you serious?"

"Occasionally."

"The music room, genius. We agreed to practice today."

He checked the clock.

"Oh."

"Oh?" She repeated. "That's all you have to say?"

"I'm coming."

"You said that twenty minutes ago."

"I was finishing something."

"Writing about the weather again?"

"Exactly."

She held out her hand.

"Give me your notebook."

"No."

"Then give me your pencil."

He looked at the pencil between his fingers.

"You have your own."

"Mine isn't as good."

"It's the same brand."

"Mine has bad energy."

Ren shook his head, stood, and slipped the notebook into his backpack.

Sofie immediately linked her arm through his.

"Come on. We have a song to finish."

Those words made him smile.

Their song.

For weeks, they had been working on a musical performance they hoped to present at graduation. They wanted something that represented their friendship and the years they had spent growing up together.

Sofie wanted the music to feel hopeful.

Ren wanted the words to mean something.

Neither of them knew how to explain that they were trying to write about the same thing.

They wanted to capture a feeling they had never properly named.

Something warm.

Something frightening.

Something that made the thought of the future exciting and painful at the same time.

The song wasn't finished yet, but they already knew how they wanted to perform it.

Sofie would sing the opening.

Ren would join her for the second verse.

They would stand together beneath the lights, look out at their classmates, and sing the song they had created from all the ordinary moments that had brought them to that day.

Sofie had even suggested that they perform Clouds, the song by Zach Sobiech, because its story and emotional message meant so much to her.

Ren had listened to the song that evening.

Then he had listened to it again.

He understood why she liked it.

It reminded him that music could hold things people struggled to say directly. It could preserve feelings, memories, and moments that might otherwise disappear into the past.

He had thought about that for a long time.

Then he had opened his notebook and written a new verse of his own.

He hadn't shown Sofie yet.

He was still deciding whether he was brave enough.

The music room was empty when they arrived.

Late-afternoon sunlight fell through the tall windows, illuminating the piano in the corner and the collection of instruments stacked against the wall.

Sofie dropped her bag beside a chair and hurried to the piano.

"Okay," she announced. "Today, we finish the chorus."

Ren sat beside her.

"You said that yesterday."

"And yesterday, you distracted me."

"How?"

"You kept disagreeing with everything I said."

"That's because everything you said was wrong."

She turned toward him.

"One day, you're going to regret being so annoying."

"Probably."

She smiled and placed her fingers on the keys.

A gentle melody filled the room.

Ren closed his eyes.

He knew this tune.

He had heard her hum it while walking home, while doing homework, while waiting for the bus. She had been developing it quietly for weeks, adding a note here and changing a rhythm there until it began to sound like something neither of them wanted to forget.

When she finished, she looked at him.

"Well?"

He opened his eyes.

"It's beautiful."

Her expression changed.

It was subtle, but he noticed.

Sofie was accustomed to his jokes, his teasing, and his habit of criticizing every lyric she wrote. Compliments from him were rare enough that she sometimes seemed unsure what to do with them.

"Really?" she asked.

"Really."

She looked down at the piano.

"Good."

Then she cleared her throat.

"Because I wrote it for us."

Ren's heart stumbled.

"For us?"

"For the graduation song, obviously."

"Obviously," he repeated.

She turned back to the keys, but he caught the small smile she was trying to hide.

For several minutes, they worked in comfortable silence.

Sofie played the melody while Ren tried different words. Sometimes she rejected his ideas immediately. Sometimes he rejected hers. Once, they spent nearly ten minutes arguing over a single line before discovering that neither of them actually liked it.

Eventually, Sofie rested her hands in her lap.

"Can I ask you something?"

Ren continued looking at the notebook.

"Depends."

"On what?"

"Whether it's going to get me into trouble."

She nudged his shoulder.

"Be serious for once."

He looked at her.

She was staring at the piano keys, her fingers moving restlessly against her jeans.

"What happens after graduation?" she asked.

Ren blinked.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, we're going to finish school. Everyone will go to different colleges or get jobs or move away. Everything will change."

"Not everything."

"How do you know?"

He wanted to say that he didn't know anything about the future.

He wanted to admit that the thought of leaving their familiar streets, their music room, and their afternoons together frightened him more than he cared to confess.

Instead, he shrugged.

"We'll figure it out."

Sofie nodded slowly.

"And we'll still be together?"

The question settled between them.

Ren turned toward her.

She was still looking at the piano, but he could see the tension in her shoulders.

He wondered if she meant their friendship.

He wondered if she meant something else.

For once, he had the opportunity to ask.

For once, he could have told her the truth.

But fear arrived before courage.

"Of course," he said. "We're best friends."

Sofie smiled.

It was a small smile, and it didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Right. Best friends."

Ren felt an uncomfortable sensation in his chest.

He had answered the question she had asked.

But somehow, he suspected he had failed to answer the question she wanted him to ask.

Neither of them spoke for a while.

Then Sofie began playing the melody again.

Ren picked up his pencil and started writing.

They returned to their song because music had always been easier than honesty.

Outside, the afternoon sunlight slowly faded.

Inside, two young people sat beside each other, each hiding a truth the other might have been waiting years to hear.

And neither knew that one day, Ren would remember this afternoon with a pain so profound that he would wish he had stayed in that room forever.

Not because it had been perfect.

But because Sofie had been there.

And at that moment, that had been enough.

End of Chapter One.