18
My fingers fumbled with the loose thread of my worn quilt. The evening sun streamed through the blinds, casting slanted shadows across the dorm room. Maisie lay sprawled on her bed, scrolling through her phone like she didn’t have a care in the world.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” I muttered, keeping my gaze fixed on the quilt. “I almost kissed him, Maisie.”
Maisie sat up and looked at me with a grin.
“Almost doesn’t count,” Maisie said with a shrug. “Besides, it’s not like Nevaeh owns him or something.”
I flinched, heat rising to my cheeks.
“It’s not about owning him,” I snapped, my voice sharper than intended. I looked away, staring at the floor. “She liked him first. What kind of person even thinks about doing that to their friend?” I asked, burying my face in my hands.
Maisie was silent for a moment, then her tone softened.
“You can’t help who you like, Hazel. It’s not something you get to control.”
“But she’s my best friend,” I whispered, my voice cracking. I looked up, my hands falling into my lap. “Even if Campbell isn’t interested in her, it doesn’t matter. She’s Nevaeh, and she liked him first.”
My throat tightened, the memory of Campbell leaning in last night flashed in my mind. The way his eyes had softened, the way his hand had hesitated near my cheek. Maisie gave me a long look, then sighed.
“Hazel, do you even hear yourself? This isn’t just about Nevaeh. You like him.”
I didn’t answer. My silence was answer enough. But it didn’t matter how much I might like Campbell, because girls like me, the ones that can never look at themselves in a mirror without flinching, could never compete with girls like Nevaeh that never even needed a mirror to know they were beautiful. I would never compare.
**
Later that night, I sat at my desk, my notes spread out in a half-hearted attempt at studying. My mind wouldn’t settle, thoughts of Campbell creeping in no matter how hard I tried to shove them away. My hand reached into my bag, searching for the small comfort of my lighthouse keychain. I needed the familiar weight on my fingers. But my fingers closed on empty air. I frowned, looking into the bag. Pushing aside my notebook and pens, I rummaged deeper. Still nothing. Panic flared in my chest. I dumped the bag’s contents onto my desk, my heart pounding as I sifted through them.
“No, no, no.” I murmured under my breath.
It wasn’t there. I slumped back in my chair, my mind racing. When did I see it last? My breath caught. Campbell’s jacket. When he’d given it to me, I was fidgeting with it, and slipped it into his pocket when he came to talk to me. When we almost kissed. My stomach twisted. I couldn’t face him, not after that awkward moment. But the thought of losing my keychain was unbearable. Knowing it wasn’t near me made me anxious. It wasn’t just a trinket. It was my symbol of hope whenever I felt like giving up. To chase my dreams, even when they felt out of reach. And I needed it back.
**
The next day, I stood at the edge of the hockey rink, my heart racing as I watched Campbell joke with his teammates as they exited the locker room. He looked so at ease, his laughter echoing off the walls, and I felt foolish about being there. But I couldn’t walk away. Not without my keychain. Taking a deep breath, I stepped forward.
“Campbell.” I called, my voice quieter than I’d intended.
He turned, his smirk appearing almost instantly.
“Ellis. What brings you to my domain?”
I swallowed hard, my nerves prickling under his teasing tone.
“I, um…” I cleared my throat, willing my voice not to shake. “Left my keychain in your jacket pocket last night. The lighthouse one. Have you seen it?”
For a split second, something flickered across his face, but it was gone so fast I couldn’t be sure.
“Nope,” he said, leaning against the lockers. “Haven’t seen it.”
My heart sank, and I shifted on my feet.
“Are you sure? It’s important to me.”
Campbell tilted his head, his smirk softening into something unreadable.
“You sure you didn’t lose it somewhere else?”
The casual question made my stomach churn. He didn’t have it. Or worse, he didn’t care. I forced a tight smile, nodding.
“Maybe. Sorry to bother you.”
I turned and walked away, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. I felt ridiculous. Why would he care about something like that? The cold air stung as I walked out of the rink, a wave of frustration washed over me. My keychain was gone, along with my hope of ever finding it again.