Chapter Eight #2
“You don’t have to be something.” My head lifted, just barely, eyes flicking to her face.
“You don’t have to have SM. You don’t have to be mute.
You don’t even have to explain yourself.
” She shrugged, playing with the zipper of her bag, her tone so casual it almost disarmed me.
“You can just be you. Someone who doesn’t enjoy speaking, and that’s fine too.
No labels unless you want them. Up to you. ”
Her words sat in my chest like a weight, and yet, strangely, they didn’t crush me. They grounded me. I didn’t realise how badly I needed someone to say that until now.
I slowly nodded. I don’t even know why. Maybe I was admitting to having SM. Maybe I was just nodding along to her words. Maybe it wasn’t either of those things. I don’t know. I’m just… acknowledging her.
The thing is, Jennie cracked me open in minutes.
Minutes. While others didn’t even try. And I don’t care.
I don’t expect people to try for me. I don’t expect them to ask, or wonder, or reach out.
I stopped waiting for that a long time ago.
But I guess… I didn’t think it would feel this good, having someone actually see me.
“So,” Jennie spoke again. “Is Aly late, or are you early?” she asked, tilting her head, the corners of her mouth quirking up like she already knew the answer.
I pulled my phone out, the lock screen lighting up the time. 12:48. So I was early. Of course I was.
I looked back up from the screen and gave her a small nod. Her grin widened, playful but not mocking, just… amused in a way that made my chest feel lighter.
“You’re adorable.” She chuckled, shaking her head like she couldn’t believe me.
Heat rushed to my cheeks, and I ducked my gaze back down to my phone, pretending to read a notification that wasn’t even there. No one had ever called me that before. Not in a way that sounded… safe.
“Want to know the origin story of the girls and me?” Jennie suddenly blurted, her voice playful but her eyes curious, searching my face. “Maybe it’d make you like us a little more.”
I turned toward her slowly. She grinned, teeth catching her bottom lip like she was trying to hold back her excitement.
“We’re pretty cool, you know.”
They do seem really cool. Cool in a way I wasn’t.
I gave a small nod. That was all the encouragement she needed. Jennie pulled her legs up onto the bench, crossing them like a kid about to share a secret. Her bright smile tugged at her lips as she tapped her fingers against her knees, drumming out her eagerness.
“So,” she began, drawing the word out like she was settling into a story. “I met Layla first. We lived in the same building. I’m twenty, by the way—born January, ‘99. Older than those two.” She paused with a chuckle, eyes flicking up as though daring me to call her old.
I didn’t. She went on.
“We met in the lobby. She asked me for directions to Silverwood, and I was already in my second year, so I told her to come with me. We took the bus together that day. And…she’s a peach.” Jennie’s voice softened, fondness lacing every syllable. “Actually, she reminds me of you.”
Heat crawled up my neck at that. Compliments always made me flinch, but Jennie threw them so easily, so genuinely, that I didn’t know how to deflect. She’s the real peach here.
“And from there, it just… clicked. We became close. Really close, fast. She’s everything to me. Layla understands me in ways most people don’t even try to. I loved her right away.” Jennie lowered her gaze for a moment, her smile turning smaller, softer.
I understood that. When people didn’t try to understand you, and suddenly someone did, it was impossible not to want to keep them. To hold them close. To love them fiercely.
“We met Aly last year. Well, technically, we already knew her, but she ran with her own group. And she was…” Jennie hesitated, lips pursing, searching for the right word.
“Troubled. That’s putting it nicely. She smoked, hung out with people who were constantly stirring shit.
Honestly, we all wondered how she even got into Silverwood, seeing that she was in jail for a few months.
” She glanced at me then, eyes gleaming with disbelief before softening. “But that girl? Fucking genius.”
I nodded slowly, intrigued.
“She wasted years with the wrong people, though. And then, out of nowhere, she cut them off. Walked away. Became… well, a loner. People actually called her that.” Jennie laughed quietly to herself, shaking her head.
“She scared me back then. Honestly, she still scares me sometimes. But Layla? Nothing scares Layla. Her kindness is too damn loud. Too stubborn.”
I could picture it. Layla’s open smile against Aly’s sharp edges, neither willing to bend.
“Aly pushed us away at first. Every time. She’d snap, roll her eyes, act like we were wasting her time.
I couldn’t stand the way she talked to Layla, so I pushed back.
Aly and I fought all the time because I wouldn’t let her talk down to Layla.
And she hated that we kept showing up, kept bothering her. ”
Jennie’s grin widened as she leaned closer, voice dropping like she was letting me in on something sacred. “But then… around two months later, she caved. Completely. And I swear to God, it was all Layla. She never gave up on Aly. And now? Aly never gives up on us.”
Her laugh was softer this time, tinged with affection. “She’ll actually kill for us. Like, I’m not exaggerating. You so much as look at Layla or me wrong? Retired rebel or not, she’ll bury you.”
Jennie gave me a cheeky smile as she continued.
“You know…she sees her old self in you. A lonely, misunderstood girl who just needed a little pull. Someone to reach out and not give up. You were lucky Aly pulled. So lucky.” She tapped the bench once emphatically.
“Aly helps people. That’s literally her thing.
She makes it her life. But the fact that she chose you, she ran into the mud for you, that means something. She doesn’t do pity. She does choice.”
My throat tightened at the memory of that day. I hadn’t thought of it like that before… like a choice, not charity. Jennie’s words made it feel less like an accident and more like permission.
“She’ll keep pestering you to have lunch.
She’ll keep bringing you things. Hate to say it, Aurora, but she’s keeping you.
And we want to keep you, too.” Jennie’s grin softened into something almost protective.
“If you meet Layla, you’ll love her. She’s the reason we’re what we are; she’s the glue. She’s why this group feels like home.”
She paused, eyes bright and earnest. “We don’t open our door for people. We like our trio the way it is. But we’re opening it for you. That’s not small. It means we want you here. We want you with us.”
The bench felt warmer under me. For the first time that week, something inside me loosened, tiny, cautious, like the first thaw after a long winter. I swallowed, and the nod that escaped me this time felt less automatic and more like an answer.
Okay, I signed, fingers clumsy but steady.
“So I can invite Layla over?” Jennie asked, already pulling her phone out, thumbs hovering over the screen.
I turned to Jennie and nodded, slowly but firmly. Her whole face lit up like I’d handed her a gift. She typed so fast I could barely follow her fingers, then held up her phone with a mischievous grin. “Done. No take-backs, Aurora. You belong to us now.”
My lips parted, air catching in my chest. No take-backs. Like I finally found something little me has been searching for her whole life. It took eighteen years, but I have friends. Ones that actually want me, too.
Jennie tucked her phone away and leaned back against the bench, looking smug in the most harmless way. “Trust me,” she said, her voice softer now, gentler. “You’re going to love her. Layla has this…way. Like she makes you feel like you matter just by breathing near you.”
My heart skipped, because isn’t that what I’ve wanted?
Someone to see me and not demand, not mock, not push?
Someone who sees me and makes sure I know that they do.
Be a safe space I can go to whenever I need someone, and come to me when they need anything too.
Give me a purpose and be mine. That’s all I ask for. Good friends.
I dropped my gaze, nodding again. This time, it wasn’t just to answer her. It was to hide the smile threatening to spread across my face.
“Oh? Layla!” My head lifted up as Jennie raised her arms, waving them in the direction of Layla, who was jogging towards us like a human sunshine.
Oh wow, I thought to myself as she reached us.
“Hey.” Her voice was soft, gentle, like a breeze brushing against my ears. She gave me a small wave. Instinctively, I returned an even smaller one, but it made her giggle. “I’m Layla, but I’m sure this chatterbox already told you,” she added.
I gave a shy smile and nodded. She slid onto the bench beside me, still smiling, that kind of smile that somehow makes you feel safer just by being near her.
“Aurora. Like the princess,” she said, tilting her head at me.
I blinked, confused. Princess? Sleeping Beauty? Me?
She seemed to read my thoughts. “I mean, you’re pretty, like a princess. Hence Sleeping Beauty but not the actual princess,” she clarified, glancing me up and down. “You’re more like… Rapunzel. You know, after Flynn cut off her hair, it turned brunette. But you just have longer hair.”
I couldn’t help but smile. Her energy, it wasn’t loud or overwhelming, just… warm, like sunlight sneaking through a window.
“You got here so quick,” Jennie leaned over, speaking to Layla with a playful grin.
Layla chuckled. “I was just around the corner to come get you for lunch, but I saw you two together, so I waited.” Then Layla’s gaze shifted to me, soft and earnest. “I didn’t want to overwhelm you.
I would have been more than happy to have lunch alone if you wanted to keep getting to know Jennie and Aly, but I’m really glad you welcomed me too. ”
Her words made my chest tighten slightly.
There was no pressure, no expectation, just genuine thoughtfulness.
How could I not welcome that? Why didn’t I welcome it sooner?
I avoided these three girls like they were danger, but no.
Not even close. They’re… everything. Everything I want and want to be.
A familiar voice cut through our small circle. “Oh? Since when did this happen? And why did I not know?”
I looked up to see Aly striding toward us, eyebrows raised, her expression caught somewhere between suspicion and delight.
Jennie chuckled, tossing her a look. “It just happened. She agreed to join us, like, a few minutes before you walked over.”
Aly’s eyes darted to me, widening. “You did?!” Her grin spread fast, bright and unguarded. “Oh my God, that’s amazing! Our group is complete.”
Complete.
The word hit harder than it should have. My chest squeezed so tight I had to glance down at my lap to hide the heat threatening to rise in my face.
Complete meant whole.
Complete meant I wasn’t extra, or temporary, or a mistake they’d laugh about later.
For so long, I convinced myself kindness was just a mask people wore before they showed me the truth, that I didn’t belong anywhere. But Jennie’s shy smile, Layla’s warm eyes, and Aly’s unfiltered excitement all told me the same thing… they wanted me here.
Not for entertainment, not for pity. For real.