Tom’s a junior and a complete jerk, but for some reason Vincent wants to audition for him. He could start his own band and everyone would follow him, no question. He plays acoustic guitar and piano better than the teachers themselves, and he’s already teaching himself electric guitar. His voice is unforgettable, and when he plays... it’s magic. There’s no other word for it. He should be leading his own band, not chasing after someone like Tom.
Maxwell’s auditioning too, and that’s only fueling the tension. Right now, Vincent’s in the music room, but he didn’t seem nervous at all. He’s been different lately—strange, quieter. Three months ago, he stopped taking his meds. Dr. Jenkins thought it was the right time, since Vincent had been stable for over a year, and he still goes to therapy. On the surface, he’s fine. But I can’t shake this feeling in my chest that something’s off.
I head to the cafeteria, headphones in. My parents gave me a phone for my fifteenth birthday, and it changed everything. Now I can text Vincent all the time, scroll YouTube, follow celebrities without stealing my dad’s laptop, and take photos of the flowers and insects I love. Still, I can’t give up Vincent’s old Mp3. It’s part of me now.
Right now I’m listening to Beach House’sDepression Cherry. Yesterday Vincent sent me a link toSpace Song, saying it reminded him of me. The first time I listened, Asher was tossing and turning, refusing to sleep. But the moment the song started, he calmed down and I burst into tears. I was exhausted from studying for math and looking after my brother.
I wanted to run to Vincent’s, but I couldn’t let him see me like that. Instead, I cut my hair. Mid-back, uneven, crooked. Mymom’s going to kill me, but it felt like a release and hair grows back.
As I walk, I spot raven hair ahead of me. I pull out my headphones, tucking the Mp3 into my pocket.
“Aurora! Hey!”
She turns, her expression shifting from startled to almost relieved. She clutches her pink notebook to her chest, eyes darting back to her Mary Janes.
“Hey...” she mumbles, brushing a strand of hair from her face. Her cheeks flush red, her eyes flicking briefly to my chopped hair before falling again.
I smile and slip my arm through hers, steering us toward the cafeteria. She doesn’t resist, but her gaze stays fixed on the floor.
“Want to have lunch together?” I ask.
She blinks. “Huh? With you and your friends? Why?”
“You don’t want to? Vincent’s busy with Tom Owens’ auditions, so it’ll just be me and Steven. He won’t bother you, I promise. If you want, I won’t either. And...” I pause dramatically. “I’ve got M&M’s.”
She gives me a look, uncertain. “The brownie ones?”
I grin. “Yeah.”
Her lips twitch, but she drops her gaze again. I sigh, disappointed. I thought maybe she could be the one—the friend I’ve been hoping for.
Most girls scare me after what happened in elementary school, but Aurora seems different. There’s something about her—something fragile and special I can’t name. She’s always alone, clutching that notebook like a secret diary. And I know loneliness when I see it. She feels like me. Only, I have Vincent and Steven. She has no one.
I’ve always envied the older girls who gather in the bathroom, laughing, sharing tampons and makeup tips, huggingeach other when they cry. I’ve never had that kind of safety. Maybe Aurora could be my chance.
We reach the cafeteria doors. I hold one open, letting her step inside. She hesitates, then turns, and hands me a tray with a shy smile.
“Shall we go?” she whispers, her cheeks as red as poppies.
My heart lifts, my eyes shining as I take it. “Run before they run out of strawberry cheesecake!”
-*?? . ??? ? ?.-*??
"I don’t get any of this!" I groan, dropping my head onto the cafeteria table.
Steven sits beside me, trying to explain math for the third time. He pats my back with one hand, pizza slice in the other. “You just need time. It’s only October.”
Across from us, Aurora eats in silence, sleeves of her white blouse rolled up. I slide the pack of brownie M&M’s into the middle of the table, and she occasionally picks one up, popping it into her mouth with a potato chip.
“Do you think if I pretend I forgot how to speak English, she’ll let me skip the test?” I ask, sipping my chocolate milk. “Or maybe I could bake her a cake. That’s genius, right?”
Steven shakes his head. “Let’s take a break. Finish eating, then we’ll start again. Everything’s easier on a full stomach.” He opens the new manga he bought the other day—Demon Slayer.
I can’t wait for him to tell me about it. Lately, he, Vincent, and I have been bingingOne Piece, and we’re so hooked we call ourselves Luffy, Zoro, and Sanji—the bravest trio in Ocean Beach.
I’m about to say something when I freeze. Vincent’s heading toward our table, guitar case slung over his shoulder, backpack on the other. Walking beside him is Maxwell.
Aurora notices my stare and turns. Her eyes widen.
