The night stretches on, endless, as if morning has forgotten it. I can’t sleep at all. Strangely, I’m not even thinking about the math test tomorrow, even though I’m usually all about hitting the books and worrying about grades. All I can think about is Oliver, his sweet, flirty message and our plan to meet. My mind spins through every outfit I own, every way I could do my hair, and what we might even talk about, but no matter how much I plan, nothing feels quite right.
When the quiet of the night finally breaks, I jump out of bed and rush to the washroom. Even after going through every outfit and hairstyle in my head all night, I settle on a plain white tee, baggy blue jeans, and a no-fuss ponytail. I still have a couple of hours before the bus comes, so I pour myself a bowl of cereal, but I barely manage half of it. I dump the rest in the trash and cover them with tissues so Mom wouldn’t notice.
Mom’s working another double at the hospital, so at least I don’t have to sit through those boring lectures about wasting food or money. I still remember begging her to skip work when I was a kid, asking her to stay home with me. Back then, having her around felt like everything, and I couldn’t imagine a day without her. But that’s not the case anymore. Lately, I can hardly stand having her at home. The constant questions, the little critiques, the hovering, it all gets to me. With the PSW shortage at the hospital, she’s hardly ever around, and honestly, I kind of like it that way. It’s quieter now, calmer, and I can actually breathe.
Time drags. Unlike most days, when I purposely show up last, today I’m the first one at the bus stop. A few kids show up shortly after, laughing and teasing when they see me standing first in line, and I don’t give a damn. Inside, I’m scorning them twice as fiercely.
'Laugh all you want, idiots. I’ve got the most handsome guy in school.'
Selena’s already on the bus when it pulls up. She doesn’t smile, but gives a wave. She still looks upset over what Oliver did yesterday. Though she’s my friend and lives nearby, she’s got her own group at school, and I’m not part of it. She’s the only one from that crowd who talks to me; the rest don’t like me, so I usually keep my distance. Most of our friendship happens after school, at her place or mine. Our houses back onto each other, so I have to turn a corner and walk a little to get to hers.
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When the bus pulls up to school, I spot Oliver near the bike racks, wearing blue jeans and a yellow tee. The yellow tee brings out his glow, making him look brighter. A soft breeze passes, lifting his hair, and he looks dazzling. He’s talking to his friends, his back to us. As we get off, he turns, scanning the girls, and when he sees me, his search stops.
I walk toward the entrance, awkward and self-conscious. I wish I could glide in like Zendaya - stylish, confident, and effortlessly cool. He’s still watching, but there’s no wave, no nod, not even a smile.
I swallow the smile I’d been saving for him and head straight to class. Confusion overtakes me, like, why is he acting as if nothing happened yesterday? I didn’t want to jump to a premature conclusion, so I wait, hoping he’ll say something when he walks in, but he shows up just before the teacher, goes straight to his seat next to Tom, and doesn’t even glance my way.
That’s when it hits me. Maybe the whole thing was a joke, a dumb prank from his group to see if I’d fall for it. And, of course, I did. How could I be so naive to think the most popular guy in school would be into someone like me?
Why me?” I cry inwardly. Why does everyone play their parts only to make me look foolish?
By lunch, I’m convinced. We’ve been in the same room for three hours, and he still hasn’t looked at me. Not once.
The math test is in the afternoon. I finish early and leave the hall before anyone else, grabbing my backpack and heading outside. Selena glances at me, clearly confused about how I finished so quickly, but I keep my head down and act like I didn’t see her.
I make my way to the back of the building, to my usual hiding spot, in Oliver’s words, my secret place. I wait for him, even though I know deep down he’s not coming. It’s 3.30. He’s still not here. I wait anyway. Then 3.40 rolls around. Then 4.00. I’d left my phone at home in all the excitement this morning, so I can’t even text to ask why he did this to me.
By six, I finally give up and start walking home. My house is about two miles from school, a route I know by heart, but tonight it feels longer than usual. The air is cool against my skin, and the sidewalks are quiet, except for the soft crunch of gravel under my shoes. I tell myself it’s not the end of the world and try to push away the disappointment, but every step feels heavier.
Just as I’m about to turn onto my street, a shadow moves ahead of me. My heart stutters. It’s him, My Olly, riding toward me on his bike, sunlight glinting off the metal frame. My body freezes, unsure whether to stop and say something or keep walking and pretend I didn’t see him. I slow my steps as he gets closer, feeling both anger and hope. The breeze brushes past my face, carrying the faint smell of summer grass, and I inhale deeply, my mind settling as I come to a decision.
