EMILY — POV
Lunch had always been a quiet, almost invisible part of my day. I never expected it to become the time I looked forward to most. But with Jane and Mike sitting with me now, it felt… safe. Like I wasn't just surviving school—I was starting to live in it.
Jane was in the middle of a story about her failed science experiment when I caught Vicky staring at me from across the room. Not a glare this time. Just… watching.
It made my stomach twist.
"He's looking again," I murmured.
Jane followed my gaze and groaned. "Ignore him. He thrives on attention."
But I wasn't sure that was all he wanted.
Mike nudged my tray. "You haven't touched your sandwich."
I blinked, realizing I'd been peeling the crust without noticing. "Not really hungry."
He offered a small smile. "Wanna trade? I've got pizza."
I shook my head but smiled back. Mike always knew how to make heavy moments feel lighter.
Still, even as we laughed at Jane's retelling of her exploding volcano model, I could feel Vicky's gaze pressing on me. Not angry. Not mocking.
Just... unreadable.
---
VICKY — POV
I didn't get it.
I didn't get her.
Emily had this quiet presence that filled a room without trying. She wasn't loud. She didn't fight back. But she also didn't flinch anymore. Not around me, anyway.
It annoyed me.
And for some reason, that made me want to know her more.
Watching her sit with Mike and Jane made something burn under my skin. Not jealousy, exactly. Not yet. But discomfort. Something I couldn't name.
When she caught me looking, I didn't look away.
She didn't either.
---
MIKE — POV
Emily was changing.
Not in a bad way. But I could see the difference—the way she held herself more upright, the way her voice didn't always trail off when she spoke now.
I liked it.
I liked her.
But I also noticed Vicky watching her. Too often.
I didn't trust him.
After lunch, I offered to walk Emily to her next class, and when she said yes, something in my chest settled. Like I had a reason to be protective. To be near her.
She didn't talk much during the walk, but she smiled when we parted ways, and that was enough.
---
JANE — POV
I noticed it too—how Emily lit up when Mike was around. And how Mike looked at her like she was some kind of mystery he wanted to unravel.
And I was okay with it.
Really.
But I'd also seen the way Vicky's expression changed when Emily laughed. That unsettled me more than anything.
Vicky wasn't the type to just let someone in. So if he was paying this much attention to her... it meant something.
And I wasn't sure I liked that.
---
EMILY — POV
After school, I headed to the art room. Ms. Doyle had offered me the space if I ever needed time to myself, and today felt like one of those days.
I worked quietly on a charcoal sketch of a bird mid-flight. I liked the idea of it—not caught, not still, just in-between.
I was finishing the shadow of the wings when the door creaked open.
Vicky stepped in.
I froze, hand hovering over my paper.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, more startled than scared.
He shrugged. "Wanted to see what you were always drawing."
I blinked. "How did you even know—?"
"You always sketch after school. I notice things."
His tone was flat, but his eyes weren't. They flicked to the drawing, then back to me.
"That's good," he said, pointing to the bird. "You make it look like it wants to escape."
I didn't know how to respond to that. So I just looked at him.
He didn't seem angry or smug. Just... tired.
"You okay?" I asked before I could stop myself.
He looked away. "You don't have to ask me that."
"Maybe I want to."
There was a pause. Then he chuckled—dry, short. "You're weird."
"You're the one following me to the art room."
That made him grin, and it surprised me how boyish it looked—like a different version of Vicky, one no one else got to see.
"I'll see you around, New Girl," he said, and then he was gone.
---
MIKE — POV
I was waiting outside for Emily to come out—figured I'd walk her home. But then I saw Vicky leave the building first, hands in his pockets, that usual lazy smirk on his face.
He'd come from the art wing.
And I didn't like that.
Not one bit.
---
EMILY — POV (later that night)
That night, I lay in bed replaying Vicky's words. Not because they scared me, but because they confused me.
Why had he come?
Why did he look sad under all that bravado?
And why did I feel... not angry, but curious?
I grabbed my phone, thinking of texting Jane. But instead, I found myself clicking into Mike's chat.
Me: Thanks for walking me to class today.
The reply came almost instantly.
Mike: Anytime. You good?
Me: Yeah. Just... thinking too much.
Mike: Want to talk?
I hesitated, fingers hovering.
Me: Maybe tomorrow?
Mike: I'll be here.
I set my phone down and turned off the light.
In the quiet, I whispered to the dark.
"I don't know what I'm doing."
But maybe that was okay.
---
VICKY — POV (late night)
Couldn't sleep.
Kept thinking about her.
About how she looked at me without flinching. How she asked if I was okay like she meant it.
People don't ask me that.
Especially not girls like her.
Maybe I was the one getting weird.
Maybe I needed to stop caring.
But I didn't want to.
---
JANE — POV (the next morning)
Emily was quiet again as we met before homeroom. But it wasn't the same kind of quiet. It was thoughtful.
"You good?" I asked.
She nodded. "Just tired."
But there was something else in her eyes. Something I recognized.
She was torn.
And I had a feeling this was just the beginning.
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