We didn't talk much walking back to class.
Zahra kept pace beside me, not too close and not too far, just there. She didn't ask anything, didn't press, didn't act like she knew what I was thinking. And somehow that helped more than any comfort words ever could.
Hana filled the rest of the space with whatever popped into her head. She had theories about which teachers were secretly dating, then a story about convincing her cousin to eat a crayon, and a long, winding rant about why cafeteria mac and cheese should be classified as a war crime. It was loud, and dumb, and kind of perfect.
God, I needed that. Just keep talking. Just fill up the space so I don't have to.
I kept nodding at the right parts but didn't say much. I wasn't ready to.
We split at the stairwell again. They veered off toward some workshop elective, and I headed down the quieter hallway to my last class. My eyes were already sweeping every corner.
If she's around that bend, I'm leaving. I'll fake a stomach bug and walk straight out the door.
She wasn't.
The class was one of those catch-all electives. Basic health and wellness, the kind of thing they shoved in to round out a transcript. The teacher looked like he used to coach football and never quite let it go. The whole room smelled like hand sanitizer and old plastic, and the overhead lights gave off just enough buzz to make it feel like a headache waiting to happen.
I picked a seat near the back and kept my bag in my lap like a shield.
He passed out a worksheet called "Emotional Maturity and You" and started monologuing about the importance of self-reflection. Half the class was on their phones. The rest were doodling or staring through the windows.
I looked down at the paper.
One question read, "What do you do when you feel overwhelmed?"
Have a panic attack. Shove it down. Spiral. Cry and pretend you're not. Take your pick.
I didn't write anything.
Didn't even pick up my pen.
Just kept my eyes locked on the paper and counted my breaths, slow and even.
In. Out. In. Out.
Don't think about her. Don't think about that look. Don't think about how close she got to saying it out loud.
Kyra's face kept flashing in my head. That little pause. The way her eyes narrowed like she almost remembered. She didn't say anything. Didn't call me out. But she saw something.
That's what I couldn't shake.
She knows. She didn't say it, but she knows. And she's just waiting to be sure.
The bell rang and chairs scraped and laughter exploded and I stayed still until the stampede passed. Then I got up slow and followed them out.
The sun had dropped lower. Shadows stretched across the pavement and the warm air smelled like grass and too much cologne.
I spotted Hana and Zahra near the street. They waved.
"C'mon," Hana said. "We're walking together. Like civilized people."
"No trains in Iowa, genius," Zahra muttered.
"Whatever. You know what I meant."
I fell in beside them. Adjusted my bag. Focused on the sidewalk more than anything else.
The neighborhood around the school was... tidy. Too tidy. Perfect yards, pastel fences, mailboxes shaped like animals, and those painted rocks with sayings like Be Kind and You Matter sitting beside flowerbeds.
It felt like a place where everyone smiled too much and waited for you to mess up so they could write about it in their HOA newsletter.
This whole block feels fake. Like I'm supposed to act normal just because the grass is cut straight.
We walked in a loose triangle. Hana kept veering off the curb to kick acorns into the street. Zahra had her hands in her pockets and hoodie sleeves pushed halfway up her arms like she didn't care what the weather said.
They talked about movies mostly. Hana was deep in some fantasy romance adaptation she swore was better than the books. She kept calling the lead actor her husband and threatened to riot if anyone recast him.
"You're laughing," she said, pointing.
"I didn't say anything."
"Exactly. Silence is guilt."
Zahra just snorted. "That's not how evidence works."
"It is in fandom court."
We turned the corner near the bakery and the smell of sugar hit so hard I almost forgot to keep walking. I tripped over some kid's plastic scooter and caught myself before I hit the sidewalk.
Zahra saw and smirked. "City's full of traps."
"Tell me about it."
The farther we walked, the more normal it started to feel.
Not safe. Not settled. But easier. Like maybe I didn't have to watch my back every second.
This still doesn't feel good, but it doesn't feel like I'm bracing for impact either. That's something.
At one point, Hana turned to me. "Got any pets?"
"Used to," I said. "Had a turtle."
"What was his name?"
"...Turtle."
She stared at me. "You're lying."
"Nope."
"That's... honestly impressive."
We stopped at the usual corner. The one where we all split.
"Same time tomorrow?" Hana asked.
"Yeah," I said.
Zahra waved without a word and turned down her block.
I kept going, just a few more turns to Aunt Clara's.
The street was quieter here. Fewer kids, fewer cars. Just a breeze and the rustle of leaves and the distant ticking of some sprinkler.
The ache behind my eyes was still there.
It's not gone. Just quieter now. Like background noise. A hum instead of a scream.
When I stepped inside, the house smelled like cinnamon and something buttery. Aunt Clara was in the kitchen in one of her ridiculous sunflower aprons, humming like she always did when she baked.
She looked up. "Hey, sweetheart. Good day?"
"It was alright."
She didn't push. Just handed me a plate with something warm and sweet still steaming on it.
"Go unwind. You earned it."
I nodded. Took the plate. Headed upstairs.
Dropped my bag on the floor. Sat in the desk chair and stared out the window for a bit. Then I picked up my phone.
No messages.
I hesitated. Then opened the browser and typed her name.
Kyra.
Still had the same profile picture. Same school tagged in the bio. Same quote from eighth grade sitting under it like it meant something.
I stared at the screen too long. Then locked the phone and set it face-down.
Why did I even look? Like she'd post "ran into someone who used to be a ghost today"?
I pulled off my hoodie, swapped into sweats, and curled up under the blanket.
Pulled it over my head.
And let myself fade for a while.