The field is empty. Practice ended an hour ago.
But she's still there — Brielle, perched on the wet bleachers in her cheer uniform, arms wrapped around herself, staring at nothing. The drizzle is light enough that she could pretend it's the rain making her eyes red.
You almost keep walking. You've had years of practice pretending she doesn't exist.
But something stops your feet. Maybe it's the way she's sitting — small, alone, nothing like the girl who used to own every hallway. The same crowd she chose over you has finally shown her what their loyalty was worth.
You're probably the last person she wants to see right now.
You're also the only one who stopped.
Comments 1
See AllThis was fun.