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My heart stutters. Know what? Shit. Are kids still fucking with her? Do I need to hunt down Murphy and Dixon?

I dig my fingernails into my palm as I ball my good hand into a fist.

“She fell during practice today. Took a hard hit. Bella said it’s a mild concussion, and she won’t be at school until after winter break.”

I slip my fingers into my hair and tug at the roots.

She darts a look at my hand and then looks back at me. “I thought…maybe you’d want to reach out. You two have been practically inseparable your whole lives. She might need⁠—”

I cut her off. “She doesn’t need me.” My throat is closing, my voice rough. “She made that pretty clear.”

Mom’s expression turns heartbroken. “Is that really what you think?”

Yes. No. I don’t know.

Regardless, the way my stomach hardens every time I think about her is unbearable, so I shrug. “If she needs a best friend, she can get a new one. In Boston.” I flash Mom a fake-ass smile. “I’m good.”

Her eyes soften, and it’s another hit to the chest. “You’re hurting,” she says quietly. “And she’s hurting too.”

“I’m not hurting,” I snap. “I’m finally making the right call.”

For a long moment, she watches me, sadness radiating from her. Then, she stands. “Okay. If that’s what you believe.” She pauses at the door. “But you’re making a mistake, Michael.”

With that, she leaves, closing the door silently behind her.

I sit in the quiet for a moment, wishing I could turn off my brain. Then, I hit play on my laptop and turn up the volume to drown out the stupid ringing in my ears.

But it doesn’t work.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

no one deserves to be alone on their birthday

ISLA

Sixteen years old

My room is dark, but it’s better this way. Bright lights still make my head throb. Lying on my back, I stare at the ceiling. I still can’t wrap my head around how drastically my life has changed in the past few months.

I don’t think I’ll ever be the same. At least I’m headed to Boston; I can leave the old behind, walk away from the things that no longer serve me, forget about all my hurt and doubt.

Put Michael out of my mind.

Eyes closed, I turn onto my right side. The last three weeks have been hell. The way Michael snapped at me when he found out I’m leaving. His annoyance when I mentioned I saw him and Sienna kissing in the hall. Then, there’s his broken hand.

I just wanted him to leave me alone, to stop hurting me with his cruel words… I yanked the door shut behind me to put some distance between us. I didn’t see him reaching for me. He knows I didn’t do it on purpose, but how could he think I don’t care that he’s hurting? How could he completely shut me out of his life?

It broke me.

I cried so hard that day. I’ve cried every day since. How could he really believe I don’t care about him? And does he not want to be friends anymore simply because I’m leaving?

On top of all that, each whisper behind my back, each laugh and mockery to my face, is like a little cut, the pain of each one building on the last. And that stupid nickname? It never used to bother me. Now, it hits me in the solar plexus each time it’s hurled. Then, there’s the terrible tiara those two assholes put on my head and the video they posted to the school chat.

Queen of ice and fake tears. The life of a nepo baby has never been more horrible.

The insinuation I’ve only made it to where I am in my skating career because of who my dad is hurt me more than any of their other jabs.

They tried to strip me of all my achievements, of everything I’ve worked so hard for.