Chapter Five
Aurora
I stood by Aly’s locker, clutching the strap of my bag like it was the only thing keeping me upright. I was on time.
Exactly on time.
I’d even counted the minutes on the clock, made sure I left early just in case. But the hallway was… quiet. Too quiet.
My sneakers scuffed against the polished floor, echoing louder than they should have in the silence.
Pin-drop silence.
That kind of silence that crawls under your skin, makes you feel small, makes you certain you’ve been stupid to believe anyone would really want you around.
I chewed the inside of my cheek, eyes darting down the hall, waiting for someone… anyone to appear. Nothing.
Of course. I should’ve known better. I always know better. People aren’t kind, not really. They pretend, sometimes, for a while, until the joke runs its course.
Until the punchline is me, standing exactly where they told me to stand, waiting like an idiot for something that will never come.
My chest tightened, hope thrashing against my ribs even as I told it to die already.
Just walk away. Pretend it doesn’t sting. Pretend it doesn’t matter. Pretend you didn’t want it.
I gave her ten minutes. Ten long, dragging minutes where every tick of the second hand mocked me for being so naive.
Then I turned on my heel, swallowing hard, already rehearsing the lie I’d tell myself later, I didn’t care. I knew it would happen. It’s better this way.
“I’m so sorry I’m late!”
The voice—bright, breathless, rushing—made me freeze mid-step. My head turned before I could stop it. Aly, cheeks flushed, hair bouncing as she jogged toward me, her smile so warm it almost hurt to look at.
“Jen wouldn’t let me go; she was desperate to come with.” She laughed, shaking her head as if she couldn’t believe it herself. She lifted both hands, and in them, two sandwiches wrapped neatly in paper. “Luckily, I got us lunch. I hope that makes up for it.”
I blinked at her, my heart stuttering like it forgot how to beat properly.
She wasn’t lying.
She wasn’t laughing at me.
She came, she actually came. And she’d brought food. For me.
For a second, I didn’t know what to do, like my body had short-circuited at the sight of her kindness, genuine and unforced.
My throat tightened, the words I could never say pressing up against it anyway.
She really came.
Aly held one of the sandwiches out toward me, arm extended, smile hopeful. My eyes flicked from the neatly wrapped food to her face, then back again.
My fingers twitched against my side, but didn’t move.
She tilted her head, her smile curling into something softer, almost pleading. “Come on, take it. Like…” She tapped her chin dramatically, pretending to think. “The beginning of our friendship. Starts with you taking this and forgiving me?” Her eyes went wide, playful, almost puppy-like.
She looked ridiculous. Ridiculous and kind.
My chest squeezed. Forgive her? She thought I could be angry?
She thought being late was enough to make me hate her, like all those other times before when people showed up late—if they showed up at all—and the joke had been on me.
But Aly wasn’t laughing. She wasn’t lying. She kept her word. She came.
Forgive her? I’d forgiven her the second I heard her voice. Maybe even before that. Not even close, I thought, biting the inside of my cheek to keep the smile from giving me away.
Not even close to mad.
My hand finally moved, hesitant, slow, like I didn’t quite believe this was real until the sandwich was actually in my grasp.
She let go, grinning like I’d handed her something precious instead of the other way around.
“Great,” she chirped, clapping her hands once before gesturing down the hall. “Let’s eat. I have so much to tell you about the girls. They’d be so jealous that we’re friends.”
Friend. The word rang in my ears, unfamiliar, heavy, but not in a way that scared me.
We walked to a bench under a maple tree, the campus noise receding into a soft hum. Leaves whispered above us, and a cool breeze threaded between the branches, lifting strands of my hair and making the world feel like it had softened around the edges.
Aly sat first and patted the spot beside her like she’d been saving it. I sat down carefully, clutching my sandwich as if it were something fragile and important. It was the beginning of something new… something I’ll make sure to cherish, so I can keep it.
She nudged me and grinned. “I did some digging,” she said, making my brows pull together in curiosity. “You’re Aurora Mae Campbell.” I blinked, not expecting her to know my full name, including my middle name, too.
I simply nodded, and she clicked her finger, proud that she got it right, but then again, she did say she did some digging.
“I knew it was Aurora from psychology since a random dude told me, but your teacher told me the rest. She was so happy to know we were friends,” she said, unwrapping the sandwich. “Well, I said we were friends before I asked you, but luckily, you agreed.” She smiled. Soft and gentle.
I slowly started to let my guard down and relaxed my shoulders as she kept going on about something else.
I listened more carefully than I ever do with anything. She talked in a rush, the kind of talk that bounces from one thing to the next and somehow ties itself back together by the time she breathes.
She told me about how Jenny made her late because she wanted to join, but Layla reminded her that I might not be comfortable, and to let Aly come test the waters first, and I couldn’t help the tiny laugh that escaped me.
She stared a bit longer before smiling. “In case you didn’t know. Jennie is actually with an ‘ie’ and not a ‘y’. People mess it up a lot.” She smiled.
Oh… right.
“She’s the little blond one with blue eyes. I call her little because she’s shorter than me but taller than you.” She chuckled as my face flushed up.
I’m not tall but not short either. But I do notice that I’m just about an inch shorter than they are.
“And Layla, the little sweetheart, is the brunette one. Those two are the same height, around 170,” she said, waving her hand like she couldn’t remember the exact measurement, and just threw out a random guess.
I chewed slowly, the bread and cheese grounding me in a way that felt almost sacred.
There was something about listening to Aly ramble that soothed the frantic part of my brain. Her normalcy was steadying. Her laughter felt like a rope I could take hold of when everything else threatened to slip away.
“Those two are literal twins, sisters from another lifetime. They knew each other before I came along.” Her gaze lowered as she pressed her sandwich down with her fingers, mind somewhere else now. “I’m not really a good person around here.”
My lips parted. I expected her to say anything, not that. Because it’s not true, not true at all. She’s the kindest person I’ve ever met in my life.
“Not to other people at least.” She shrugged. “I used to be rebellious, but I am changing,” she turned to me, “I get what it’s like to not be accepted. I don’t pity you, not even a little. I just want to try to be to you what Jennie and Layla were to me.”
She watched me for a beat and then smiled, not the loud grin but the softer one that reached her eyes. “When you’re ready,” she said, like she’d only been waiting for permission, “you can come hang with all of us. We’d welcome you with open arms, we promise.”
My throat tightened at the offer. It sounded so ordinary, so simple, but the truth is ordinary offers like that had always been complicated for me. I pictured them all together and felt something small and warm settle in my chest.
She was truly being kind because she knows, knows firsthand what it feels like to be alone, not be accepted and not be given a chance. She was lucky to have those two girls… and now, I had her. She was giving me a chance to have better, to have someone who cares and sees me.
“No pressure.” She started again, “Until you’re ready, I’ll still be here, inviting you to lunch every day.”
The breeze moved again, and for a second I thought the world might actually be kinder than I’d expected.
I gave one small nod as a response. I didn’t know why I didn’t choose to try to say something, but I had a feeling she would understand me anyway. And it seemed like she always did.
“So, just us until further notice?” I nodded again, and she chuckled. “Sounds good.”
She leaned back, continuing to talk as if my being silent this whole time didn’t faze her, not even in the slightest.
I didn’t know if she simply liked speaking or if she didn’t want to force me to speak. Either way, I listened. I breathed it in, the way her voice rose and fell, the way she filled space without asking anything of me.
It felt like the beginning of something small and steady, a version of friendship that might, one day, be real.