01
STELLA
The soles of my shoes make a soft clicking sound against the tiled floor with every step. The art room is cool, but my neck aches from being bent over my canvas for so long. The smell of varnish and acrylic paint clings to the air, filling my lungs with every breath. I try to paint a straight line, but all I can hear is Aurélie’s chewing gum from the desk beside me.
At first, I tried to ignore it.
Now, every pop and chew makes me want to tighten my grip on my paintbrush.
She chews with her mouth open, her eyes glued to the phone half-hidden beneath the table, as if the rest of the room simply doesn’t exist.
I glance up at the clock.
Ten minutes left.
Ten painfully long minutes.
It feels as though I’ve been trapped in this classroom for hours. Around me, students whisper to one another, a few laugh quietly. Our teacher stands behind his desk, hunched over a pile of sketches as though nothing exists beyond the pages in front of him.
Behind me, Addison—my best friend—lets out a quiet sigh.
I know her well enough to recognize that she’s just as irritated as I am.
— Aurélie, could you chew a little more quietly, please? she murmurs. It’s all anyone can hear.
Aurélie turns halfway toward us, the gum still rolling around in her mouth, one eyebrow lifting slightly.
— Seriously? Relax. It’s not like we’re in a library.
It’s not what she says that gets under my skin.
It’s the way she says it.
As though we’re overreacting.
As though we’re the problem.
Something tightens in my chest.
I barely slept last night. Hunter has been on my mind nonstop, and this constant chewing is just…
Too much.
I set my paintbrush down and turn toward her.
— A little consideration wouldn’t hurt. We’re exhausted, and it really isn’t helping.
Several heads turn in my direction.
I instantly regret opening my mouth.
Heat creeps up the back of my neck, as though someone has pointed a spotlight straight at me.
Our teacher finally looks up.
His glasses slide slightly down his nose.
— Is there a problem?
I swallow my embarrassment.
— No, sir. We were just trying to solve a small concentration issue.
He studies us for a moment before giving a short nod.
— Very well. Finish your work. There’s not much time left.
Aurélie exhales dramatically, but she still gets up to throw her gum away.
As she walks past me, she deliberately avoids my eyes.
When she sits back down, she finally picks up a pencil and starts drawing.
Silence settles over the room again.
A much more bearable silence.
My shoulders relax ever so slightly.
The bell finally rings.
A wave of relief sweeps across the classroom.
Chairs scrape against the floor. Backpacks zip shut.
I hurriedly pack away my supplies.
As I stand, I catch Aurélie’s eye.
She gives me the smallest nod.
Almost imperceptible.
Not quite an apology…
But no longer contempt, either.
I answer with a brief smile and leave it at that.
The hallway feels alive in comparison.
Voices overlap in every direction while locker doors slam shut with metallic echoes. The air smells like cheap deodorant, potato chips, and damp paper.
Friday’s energy hangs everywhere.
The moment I step out of the classroom, I feel my muscles begin to loosen.
— That girl is seriously clueless, I tell Addison. I can’t believe she doesn’t realize how her behavior affects everyone else.
— Thank goodness it’s our only class together, my friend sighs. I was about two seconds away from snatching that pack of gum out of her hands.
A laugh escapes me.
— Well… it’s Friday, and we just finished our last class. We’re not going to let something this stupid ruin our weekend, right?
— Definitely not! I’ve been waiting for this moment since Monday, she says with a grin.
We walk side by side, occasionally bumped by groups of students laughing a little too loudly.
Absentmindedly, I tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear—the habit I always fall into whenever something is bothering me.
My phone vibrates in my pocket.
But I already know it isn’t the message I’ve been waiting for.
The moment I unlock the screen, my conversation with Hunter appears.
My last message is still sitting there.
“How are you feeling? Are you getting any better?”
Seen.
Nothing else.
A familiar ache settles in my chest.
Half worry.
Half frustration.
He hasn’t been to school in two weeks.
I replay our last conversation over and over in my mind.
It ended too quickly.
Too harshly.
I can’t stop wondering whether I said something he couldn’t forgive.
— Still nothing? Addison asks, glancing at my screen over my shoulder.
I lock my phone and slip it back into my pocket.
— No. I’m starting to think he just doesn’t want to talk to me anymore.
She shakes her head.
— I don’t think that’s it. When you’re not doing well, sometimes you shut everyone out… even the people you care about most.
— We argued the last time we spoke, I remind her. I’m scared he’s still upset about it.
— You could go see him, she suggests. You don’t have to make it into some huge emotional conversation. Just check on him.
I keep my eyes fixed ahead.
The hallway is slowly emptying.
Part of me wants to go home, crawl under my blanket, scroll mindlessly through my phone, and forget about all of this.
The other part knows I’ll spend the entire weekend thinking about him if I don’t do something.
— If I show up at his house and he tells me to leave… I’ll feel completely pathetic.
— Maybe, Addison says gently. But at least you’ll know you tried. Right now, you’re stuck somewhere between worry and your own imagination.
Despite everything, I smile.
She has a patience with me that I rarely have with myself.
We reach the school entrance.
The air outside is warmer than I expected.
The sky is overcast, but after hours beneath the fluorescent classroom lights, the daylight feels comforting.
I take a deep breath and feel some of the tension leave my shoulders.
— Okay, I finally say. I’ll go. I won’t stay long. I just want to make sure he’s okay.
Addison smiles.
A real one this time.
— Promise you’ll text me afterward?
— I promise.
We part ways at the school gates.
As I walk toward the bus stop, my heart begins to beat a little faster.
But this time, it isn’t the same nervousness I felt back in the classroom.
It’s something else entirely.
