My hair never looks good the first day of school. My fourth year at St. Joseph's, and it still won't hold a curl or even keep a similar shape as I run a brush through it. Oh well. I suppose it'll be tradition to show up with my hair looking a mess.

There's an element of excitement and of nervousness today. My last first day of high school. Excitement, but also an element of sadness, because I know I'm going to scan the halls for red hair until I remember that she's long gone, and that we said our good-byes before I had even known it.

I try not let the thought carry with me, but I notice it as soon as I walk to school alone. I see the coffee shop we frequented, the corners we turned at, the park where I ended it all. I hope that this year will lead to new beginnings is all I think, and that even if romance isn't in my game this year, I'll at least have a better senior year than junior year.

I am finally relieved of my heavy backpack when I drop all my new textbooks off at my locker. I find my friends hanging out in some of the hallways, chatting with each other. At the sight of me, Hazel lets out a squeal and runs toward me.

"Callie! We're seniors!" she exclaims, before she begins to cry.

"Jesus, calm down," I state.

"I'm happy! But sad! But also so happy!" she yells as tears stream down her cheeks.

I give her a pat on the back as I hug her and then smile and greet my other friends. We all saw each other pretty frequently throughout summer, besides August, where many of us were going on last minute vacations or doing back to school prep. So we recount the month, awaiting our last first class of high school to begin.

"We're going to have to start college apps soon," Juliet realizes.

"I already started mine," Abigail states.

"You guys are making me look bad!" Hazel laments.

I giggle, glad to have them back. Not only does high school bring back routine, but it allows me to see my friends every day again, and I think that will keep me going for now. As we walk to class, I recount to them some of my horror tales of working at the frozen yogurt shop this summer. Most of them sound like they had good summers with fun vacations and decent jobs. Hazel seems to think I'm crazy for wanting to go back to school before she realizes that sounds exactly like something I would say.

Abigail gives me a warm smile. I think she has an understanding of the mixture of emotions I am going through today. But she doesn't ask about Aurora, and for that, I am thankful. I am merely ready to start my classes and savor my last year here. I have no intention of dealing with any romantic problems this year. Yet...

It doesn't help me much in the day that my first class is in the Calculus classroom from last year. I find myself taking the same seat as last year, and I scan my eyes to the seat Aurora used to sit in, only to have another senior replace her spot. My heart sinks a little. The pain doesn't last long though because the teacher rearranges us in alphabetical order once class starts. Still, it doesn't make the classroom any more foreign.

Lunch is difficult too. My rumbling stomach and the thought of seeing my friends excites me, but I quickly turn my head toward the table Aurora and her friends used to sit at. Some freshmen now occupy it.

At one point, I see a flash of red hair pass by, and my heart nearly seizes, but it's merely a sophomore who also has red hair. Hers is a little shorter and straighter, and her stature is smaller as well. But for a moment, I had almost thought Aurora had been there.

I take a seat at lunch with my friends, and we already groan about the schoolwork. Hazel and Juliet have given themselves easy senior years with multiple free periods and some easy classes, but Abigail and I, of course, are still taking as many APs as we can for college credit.

Someone approaches our friend group, and I turn, seeing Isabella Sandoval. A year ago, I would've flinched at the sight, but I greet her with a smile.

"Hey, do you want to sit with us?" I ask before the words escape her mouth. I realize that now that Aurora and her friends are gone, she probably has limited lunch group options, and I am more than happy to welcome her to join us.

She nods and takes a seat. Isabella and Juliet catch up, since we all were previously in a chemistry group together our sophomore year. It's strange that a girl I pined over for so long now strikes nothing but a numb fuzzy feeling inside me.

"I don't plan sitting here every day," Isabella tells me as we eat. "I like to jump around, but...you know...some groups are graduated now."

I realize she's referring to Aurora and her group. I too feel the pain.

"You're president of the service club now, right?" I ask. "Congrats."

"Thanks," Isabella says. "Aurora left me some big shoes to fill though. But she trusted me, so hopefully I'll do a good job."

"I'm sure you will," I assure her. It's one of the first normal conversations I've had with Isabella in years. I realize, suddenly, that she's probably heard the rumors about me, that she knows I'm a lesbian, yet she still treats me with the same kindness, like nothing is different.

We depart for our afternoon classes, and I catch sight of Allison just once. Her hair is cut short, and I suddenly remember Hazel mentioning that Ryan dumped her over summer for a girl that worked with him as a lifeguard. That's what the rumor is anyway. In a way, I feel sorry for Allison. I too know what it's like to lose someone close, but there's also a deep sense of vengeance, like now she knows the pain I've felt. I don't greet Allison today though. Because even if I feel calmer these days, I can't yet forgive her for what she's done.

Afternoon classes feel longer than morning classes, especially when I consider the fact that just twenty-four hours prior I was sitting on my bed, scrolling my phone, not doing anything of any significance. Now, I have a million syllabi to sign and assignments already piling up. I think to myself, at least I have a pleasant walk home to look forward to.

That's when the sadness hits the most.

My locker is the same, but there's not that familiar presence who comes up behind me and pokes my side. Instead, there's a freshman awkwardly waiting to get to her locker above me, so I quickly throw my things in my bag and head out, passing the library as I do so. I consider going in there and getting some homework done, but I don't have much to do, and I'd rather not go to the place that Aurora and I used to frequent so soon, especially on the first day. I feel my hurt will heal eventually, but this first day has been miserable in some aspects.

It's the most miserable walk home. It's hard to imagine how much I had savored this time only a year before. Though summer is wrapping up, I already see a leaf or two turning yellow, and I feel a sense of nostalgia for last year, when Aurora and I would walk down the street and crunch on the leaves underneath our feet, asking each other questions about the other and forming a deep friendship I didn't know I would still crave to this day.

A tear slides down my cheek. I thank the heavens that no other students are around me at this point, because I quickly wipe it away. I scold myself, telling myself that I am used to this already. We didn't walk together near the end of the year, but I think it was easier to cope because I was too preoccupied with finals to notice. On a day like today, where there's mostly syllabi to sign, I walk slower, and I think more.

I pass by the coffee shop and even consider getting a drink, but I decide against it. I won't see Aurora there. She's long gone by now, especially if she did decide on attending a private college.

I make the turn we used to part at and drag my feet as I head to my house. Thankfully, the tears have ceased by this point, and I enter trying to think of the bright year ahead. My mom is home early, so she distracts me by asking about classes and signing my syllabi, and my siblings are already chatting rapidly about their first day that it becomes easy to be distracted.

Good. That's what I need. Distraction.

Still, that evening, I grab my phone, my fingers hovering over the keyboard as I think of writing a text to Aurora.

Today was my last first day. Kind of weird, I type. The walk home felt different. And someone else sits at your lunch table now, but I think you'd be happy to know your service club is in good hands. Hope college is going well.

My fingers hover, but they never send. I delete the message and go to bed, knowing that I would never have the courage to send something like that to a girl I haven't seen or spoken to in months.

Aurora is gone from my life now, and I realize that it's time to accept it. Now, I need to focus on my studies and the challenges I'll face my senior year.