Unlike yesterday, tonight feels much better, especially in terms of sleep. I was exhausted and mentally drained after waiting so long for Oliver, but somehow, it helped. I ended up getting a solid, dreamless sleep, and when I woke up this morning, I felt refreshed.

  After that kiss yesterday, everything’s a bit of a blur. He rode off on his bike, calling out, “Tomorrow, 3.30. At your secret place.” Later, he messaged me to apologize again for making me wait so long and for not showing up. He also wouldn’t stop talking about the kiss; he said he’d never felt anything like that before. I couldn’t believe it. I mean, he’s probably kissed plenty of girls, beautiful ones, and he never felt that way with them? That means something. I’ll take it as a compliment, and a big one.

  I’m humming to myself while eating cereal when Mom walks by. Great! Day officially ruined. Humming stops right there.

  She walks into the kitchen and fusses with a cloth around the sink that’s already dry. I watch her out of the corner of my eye. She looks completely worn out. She has put on weight recently, and because she’s so short, her face appears fuller, with a double chin and smaller eyes. Her short brown hair is starting to grey, and she never bothers to dye it, which only makes her look even more exhausted than she already is.

  I’ve always wondered why she can’t spend a bit of time at the gym or even try to make herself look more presentable. Forget the gym, she won’t pay a cent at a salon either. I probably take after her in that way. I hate that about myself.

  “Scarlet, sweety,” finally she says. And hearing that long, drawn-out “sweety,” I know she’s about to irritate me, and I’m right. “I’m not trying to be nosy, but where were you so late after school yesterday?”

  “I was with Selena. Studying at her place.”

  It’s a lie, of course, and I keep my eyes averted, my irritation rising, because looking at her would only drag this conversation out longer than I can handle.

  “Why couldn’t you just send a quick text if you were going to be late? I’ve told you so many times, I want to know you’re safe.”

  “I am safe, Mom. I don’t do anything stupid. You don’t need to worry.”

  “It’s not that I think you’ll do anything stupid,” she pauses. She grabs a bottle from the counter, takes a sip, and twists the lid tighter and tighter, over and over. She’s worried that what she’s saying might upset me. “It’s the world I don’t trust. It’s not the same anymore. There’s danger everywhere, just waiting for the right moment. And if bad luck strikes, there’s nothing we can do.”

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  “You’re barely ever home anyway. What can you do?” I snap back.

  She doesn’t answer, walks down the hallway, probably to sleep. It looks like it’s her day off, and that’s all she ever does on those. My eyes follow her as she goes, a spark of contempt rising inside me. The moment I hear the door shut upstairs, I get up and head to my room.

  I slip on a grey tennis skirt and a plain white tee. Most mornings, I throw my hair up in whatever style I can manage. But today, I take the time to do two side braids and a top braid, then clip them together. When I look in the mirror, I don’t see anything magnificent, like Oliver said, just a regular girl.

  I’ve never been crazy about how I look, especially my big, round eyes – people always say they’re beautiful, but I don’t see it. They’re grey, which is not too bad, but I still wish I had blue eyes like Oliver. And his hair? That rich brown, thick hair is enough to make him look perfect. It’s very smooth and silky. Mine’s somewhere between wavy and frizzy, with a colour that can’t seem to decide if it’s blonde or brown. I’m never pleased with what I have.

  I give myself a quick once-over and head out to the bus stop.

  The school day goes by like yesterday. I see Oliver a few times, but he doesn’t even look my way. Not once. But that’s how things are with us. It’s only between him and me. He doesn’t want anyone to know, not yet, and as much as I don’t like it, I’ve made peace with it.

  At lunch, Selena walks up after I finish eating.

  “I want to tell you something,” she says.

  Right away, I can tell by the look on her face that it’s serious. For a second, I think she might know about Oliver and me. Maybe he told her. They’re siblings, after all. My brain starts scrambling for a reason why I didn’t tell her. Perhaps I’ll say it’s still new, and I’m not even sure what it is yet.

  “What is it, Selena?” I ask.

  “I saw your videos on Oliver’s phone,” she says

  “What videos?” I ask, suddenly tense.

  “He has a bunch. You’re eating, walking, sleeping, staring out the window in class… even one from the other day when you were sitting on the sofa at our house.”

  I remember that. He was across from me, acting like he was scrolling through his phone. It turns out he was recording me. He must have caught on to the stolen glances I kept throwing his way. Oh! That explains why he thought I had feelings for him. For a second, I think it’s sweet that he recorded me without me knowing - my secret crush had a crush on me too.

  But then Selena keeps going. “I thought it was creepy.” And suddenly, I realize it’s not sweet to everyone; someone on the outside would find it odd, or even creepy. “I asked him about it, and he said it’s something he does to pass the time.”

  'Timepass.' That’s what he says when he realizes she’s caught him. I hold back a laugh. I know he didn’t mean it and that he’s still trying to keep things between us.

  “You’re my best friend,” she says, gently squeezing my arm. “I don’t want him using you or playing games. That’s why I’m telling you this.” She hesitates. “I don’t know if you already know, but everyone else does. He’s seeing Emily.”

  My stomach sinks. I have no idea what to say. Emily. Selena’s best friend. I’ve seen Oliver talk to her lots of times, but I always thought it was because she is his sister’s best friend. I was wrong. He’s seeing her.

  It feels like the ground is crumbling beneath my feet.