Before I could say anything, Dare cut in from behind me.
“Relax,” he said loudly. “It was a joke. Doesn’t count.”
More laughter. My ears burned. One boy clapped him on the back. Another one said, “No homo, right?”
Dare just smirked.
And I laughed too. Because what else was I supposed to do? I kept my eyes down and pretended my chest wasn’t caving in. Pretended his words didn’t feel like broken glass under my skin. Pretended it hadn’t mattered. Even though it did.
God, it did.
That’s when I realized there are worse things than being lonely, like being forgotten by someone you could never forget.
I didn’t go straight home after school. I needed somewhere to breathe, somewhere to break apart where no one could see me.
So, I walked my bike down the old dirt path to the edge of the neighborhood—the part they’d never finished building. It always seemed forgotten, and today, I needed to be forgotten, too.The lot was half-wild, overgrown with weeds punching through the gravel. The dry, cracked dirt crunched beneath my shoes. One of the wooden posts along the path had snapped, slanted at an odd angle, as if it had given up halfway through standing.
The skateboard ramp loomed ahead, crooked and sun-bleached. A little more warped from summer storms. The screws rusted in places. A piece of plywood had splintered near the corner, but no one ever came to fix it.
I ducked underneath, crawling into the narrow space that used to be ours.
Used to behis and mine.
The air was cooler and quiet. I sat back against one of the support posts, knees pulled to my chest, and looked around like I might find something I’d forgotten.
The dirt was still cool and packed, and the wood above my head creaked softly as the wind moved through the field. I sank back against the beam and just… sat. Trying to breathe. Trying to remember what it felt like when things still made sense.
Sharpie drawings still covered the wood—his messy block letters, my crooked hearts, little doodles of soccer balls and smiley faces. I found the initials we'd sealed with spit and piss. Still faintly visible, even after all this time.
TRU + DARE = FOREVER
Forever. What a fucking joke.
I couldn’t ignore how much emptiness his absence left.
I pressed my forehead to my knees and tried to breathe, but my lungs were on fire. Dare hadn’t just ignored me. He’derasedme. As if I was a stain he had to scrub clean from his life before anyone noticed. And the worst part?
I let him.
I let him humiliate me in front of people who wouldn’t have cared either way. I let him pretend it meant nothing. I even laughed along like the joke wasn’t at my expense, and it wasn’t tearing something raw and sacred out of my chest.
My head throbbed, but I stared at our names until my vision blurred. I wanted to cross them out. Black them out with ink and anger. Rip them off the post with my fingernails. But I couldn’t. Because no matter how hard I tried to pretend I didn’t care, I did. And even now, after the longest, loneliest day of my life, I couldn’t stop.
The thing about loneliness is, it isn’t always loud. Sometimes it’s just quiet. Heavy. Constant. A second skin you can't peel off.
I had friends, not close like Dare, but at least they were friendly-ish. People who texted me occasionally. People who invited me to places. But none of it mattered. Not really. Because none of them knew me the wayhedid.
And I didn’t want them to because the only person I’d ever wanted to share my world with had slammed the door in my face.
I didn’t cry. But I wanted to. I wanted to scream until my throat tore, set fire to the whole ramp, and watch it burn like our friendship. But I couldn’t move.
I just sat there.
Still.
Small.
Forgotten.
