I was never the girl. Just the joke. Just the dare.
Just the scholarship charity case he could practice on in the dark.
My chest feels too tight.
If I stay, I’ll cry.
And I will not cry in front of these people.
So, I shove past the curtain.
Past the stares.
Past the laughter.
He calls my name once?—
“Stella—”
Too late. Leo says something to him and I slip away.
I don’t turn around.
I don’t look back.
Because that’s the night I learn something important about princes.
They don’t rescue girls like me.
They bet on how fast we fall.
Laughter follows me down the hallway. I text Mama to come get me as I flee.
It echoes.
Bounces off marble floors and trophy cases and glass cabinets full of medals won by boys whose parents donated science wings.
My heels slip on the stairs.
I almost fall.
Would’ve been fitting.
Outside, the air is knife-cold.
My breath comes out broken. I wait behind a frozen shrub for the familiar comfort of our family’s beat up Honda.
Same dent on the bumper. Same heater that only works if you kick it twice.
Mamá doesn’t ask questions.
She just unlocks the passenger door and reaches across to squeeze my knee.
That’s all it takes.
I shatter.
Mascara streaks. Shoulder-shaking sobs. The kind that makes your ribs hurt.
