"Why me?"
Chapter One — “Why Me?”
(Or as Aurora secretly titles it: “The Invisible Spotlight”)
The cafeteria was loud, crowded, and full of people pretending they weren’t watching each other.
Aurora sat between Lily and Calista —technically part of the trio, but never quite at the centre.
They included her.
Always with a “you’re coming too, right?” or a “can you take our pic?”
But never in the real way.
Not in the way that made her feel wanted.
They wore the same clear lip gloss. She wore cherry balm.
They scrolled through photos together. She watched them scroll.
It wasn’t cruel.
It was just… empty.
“Wait—didn’t Leo say your name in class today?” Lily asked her suddenly, flipping her ponytail.
Aurora blinked. “Me?”
Calista laughed. “No, not you. The other Aurora in Chemistry. Obviously.”
Right.
Of course.
Aurora smiled politely and took a bite of her sandwich that tasted like cardboard and air.
Across the cafeteria, Leo Armstrong was telling a story with his arms, nearly knocking over a juice box. His laugh made three girls look up at once.
He was popular in the way that didn’t seem to bother anyone.
Funny. Soft-eyed. The kind of boy who remembered people’s birthdays and opened all the windows in class because “sunlight is free therapy.”
So when he called out, “Hey—Aurora!” from across the room—
She nearly choked on her breath.
She turned.
He was holding a pencil. Her pencil. The one with the little cloud eraser.
“You dropped this earlier,” he said, casually walking over, not even caring that everyone was watching.
“I thought about stealing it. But it seemed like the kind of thing someone would miss.”
He smiled like it was a secret. Like he was sharing something with her no one else could see.
Aurora stared at the pencil, then at him.
“...Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” Leo said, then added softly, “By the way, your lip balm smells like cherry candy. It’s nice.”
Her heart stuttered.
Her face forgot how to stay neutral.
And then he turned and walked away, like the world hadn’t just shifted.
The silence at her table hit like a crash.
Lily’s straw squeaked in her cup as she swirled it, not looking up.
Then Calista blinked once. Slowly.
“Oh.”
She forced a little smile. “That was… weird.”
Aurora’s throat tightened. “It’s not—he just gave me back my pencil.”
Lily finally looked up. “Sure, but did he need to do it like that? Across the whole cafeteria?”
“He’s always extra,” Calista added, laughing lightly. “It’s his whole thing. Flirt, flirt, flirt. Pretend he’s in a movie or something.”
Aurora didn’t answer. She just pressed the pencil between her fingers like it might dissolve.
Calista’s eyes landed on it. “Wait. That’s yours? The one with the little cloud?”
Aurora nodded.
“That’s kind of… adorable,” she said, but it wasn’t a compliment.
It was the kind of ‘adorable’ you give to puppies and pity cases.
“Very you.”
Lily smirked. “Leo has a type, apparently.”
“What’s that?” Calista asked.
Lily sipped her drink, eyes flicking back to Aurora. “Quiet girls with sad eyes and cute stationery.”
They both laughed.
Aurora tried to. She really did.
But her face felt like it didn’t belong to her anymore. Like she was borrowing it, poorly.
“Just—don’t read into it,” Calista said gently, nudging Aurora’s tray closer like a mother bird. “I mean, obviously he’s friendly. But this is probably just a bit of fun for him.”
Lily was still scrolling through her phone. “Boys like Leo don’t… you know.”
Aurora didn’t ask what “you know” meant.
She already knew.
That night, in her notebook:
Oh, I wish people would let me keep my moments.
Even if they’re small. Even if they’re fragile.
Even if it’s just a boy returning a pencil and saying something sweet.
I wanted to smile.
But suddenly it was a joke. A warning. A charity act.
I hate that I looked down.
I hate that I let them take it from me.
But I liked it.
I really, really liked it.
And that’s the worst part.
