CHAPTER ELEVEN

I wish I could still be the girl who didn't know. That version of myself had the world sitting in the palm of her hands. She was, in every way, naive. But she was a lot less fragile than the person I am now.

It was a Wednesday, the last one in May. There was a gentle voice coming from the ceiling, reminding the senior class that today was the final day to pick up caps and gowns from the library.

My hand was propped firmly against my cheek, holding the weight of my head. Somewhere in the room, a window must've been open. I could feel each breeze like a breath against my skin, even behind the plastic desk.

The room was still, and everyone was anticipating the ring of the final bell.

"Faith." A whisper called out so faintly that I almost missed it.

My palm left its position against my cheek, searching for the voice.

She waited patiently for me to find her; the smooth skin at the corners of her mouth stretched, forming a slight smile.

I said nothing as I turned completely in my seat to better face her.

"You live on Forest Street, right?" She continued in the same hushed tone.

"Um, yeah?" I knew that the look drawn on my face catered to the confusion in my response.

"I thought so. I live in the house behind you. Doesn't Julian live next door to you?"

There was a permanent knot that lived inside my stomach. I felt her words reach inside and tighten each string further into place. "Yeah. I'm pretty sure."

Even in words, I kept as much distance between us as possible, honoring my role in our arrangement.

"That's so crazy. I had no idea we all lived so close to each other." My gut knew before I did that something wasn't right. "Julian told me when we hung out last week."

There was blood pooling in my ears; I was positive. My eardrums were shredded by the sound of my own heart breaking—each individual piece shattering like glass.

"Oh, really?" It was the performance of a lifetime. On the outside, nothing changed. Not a muscle moved or even flinched. But inside, my entire world was now crumbling.

I was a stranger in my own skin. Unable to trust myself or the truths I so easily believed, "Yeah. He came over to my house. I didn't even know he smoked."

"And we watched that new movie that just came out, the scary one." I could feel the knife in my chest twisting at the sound of her words.

The pain was unbearable. But I knew that the show must go on. "He actually just messaged me earlier and asked if I wanted to hang out again tonight."

I couldn't speak. I was too afraid that everything would come pouring out onto the floor if my position changed. So instead, I smiled.

The final bell drew our conversation to an end. Everyone, including her, piled out of the room and into the halls.

But I was paralyzed.

My ears were still ringing even after the room went quiet. Everything I thought I had was a mirage. There were no lines between what our midnights together were. To him, I was only ever a secret.

What was left of my heart ached. There was no physical remedy for this kind of wound. All I could do was mourn what was taken from me—my love, my trust, and myself.

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