“He didn’t say everything,” Coop added quickly. “Just that something blew up.”
I nodded.
“You okay?”
The question fractured something inside me.
“No,” I whispered, voice cracking. “Not even close.”
Coop’s entire expression softened. “Do you want?—”
I shook my head.
His fingers twitched like he wanted to reach out. Then he didn’t.
He just sat next to me, bouncing knee and all, giving me his quiet presence in that way Coop always had—subtle, steady, safe.
And the worst part?
It almost made me cry again.
I didn’t goto the cafeteria.
I didn’t go to the courtyard.
I didn’t go with Bubba or Archie or Coop or Jake or Rachel.
I went to the library.
I tucked myself between two tall shelves in the far corner and sat on the carpet like a runaway gremlin. I should’ve eaten something, but my stomach had shriveled into a tight knot.
I rested my forehead on my knees and tried to breathe.
Every inhale stung.
Every exhale felt like it deflated something fragile.
All morning, I had been the center of a tug-of-war no one else seemed willing to drop. And the worst part—the part that made my shame burn hot under my skin—was that none of it would’ve happened if I’d been stronger. Clearer. Less… me.
By the time fifth period started, I still hadn’t moved.
I didn’t go.
I just hid.
My phone buzzed a few times—Jake, Bubba, Rachel, Archie—but I ignored them all.
No one needed more of my mess.
I snuckinto class just before the bell, hoping to disappear into the back corner.
Jake saw me immediately.
His posture snapped straight, eyes narrowing in a way that made my heart clench. He didn’t say a word—he just moved his backpack off the seat next to him so I’d sit there.
I did.
Because I didn’t have the strength to argue.
