Chapter 136
Summer's POV
I turned to find her practically bouncing on her toes, her short dark hair still damp from a morning shower, her smile so genuine it made my chest ache. "It's not—it's just a competition."
"Just a competition," Mia repeated, laughing. "Summer. You're going to Regional Finals. That's insane. That's like..." She gestured vaguely. "I don't even know what that's like. But it's amazing."
"Thanks." I tried to match her energy, but my mind kept drifting to Kieran, to whether he'd seen the poster yet, to what he'd think when he did. "Have you—did you see Kieran this morning?"
Mia's smile didn't falter, but something knowing flickered in her eyes. "Not yet. Why?"
"No reason." I turned back to my locker, pretending to organize books I didn't need. "Just wondering if he's seen... all this."
"Summer." Mia's voice went softer. "He texted you last night, right? After the competition?"
"Yeah."
"And he was proud of you?"
"Yeah, but—" I stopped, not sure how to articulate the worry that had crept back in despite the warmth of our weekend conversations. After everything we'd shared on Valentine's Day, after he'd opened up to me in ways he never had before, I'd thought maybe things would be different. But now, with him not responding this morning, that old familiar dread was settling in my stomach again, sharper than before precisely because I'd let myself hope. "I don't know. Something feels off. He keeps saying everything's fine at home, but I can tell it's not. And every time I try to ask about it, he just... deflects."
Mia leaned against the locker next to mine, her expression thoughtful. "Maybe he doesn't want you to worry about his stuff when you've got Regional Finals coming up."
"Or maybe something's actually wrong and he won't tell me because he thinks he has to handle everything alone." I closed my locker harder than necessary. "Which is exactly what he does. Every single time."
"You can't force him to talk if he's not ready."
"I know that." I did know that. But it didn't make the waiting any easier, didn't make the worry any less sharp, especially not after we'd been so close this weekend. "I just wish he trusted me enough to let me help."
"He trusts you." Mia's voice was firm. "Summer, I've seen the way he looks at you. That boy trusts you more than he trusts anyone. He's just..." She paused, searching for words. "He's carrying a lot. And sometimes people need to carry things alone for a while before they can share the weight."
"I should get to homeroom," I said, closing my locker maybe a little too firmly. "I'll see you at lunch?"
Mia studied me for a moment, concern clear in her dark eyes, but she didn't push. "Yeah. Lunch. And Summer?" She waited until I looked at her. "He's going to be okay. Whatever he's dealing with. And so are you."
I managed a small smile. "Thanks, Mia."
The walk to Thompson's classroom meant passing the bulletin board again, and I couldn't help but glance at it as I went by. More students had gathered around it now, pointing and whispering, and my shoulders tensed automatically. I told myself to keep walking, but my feet slowed despite my better judgment, and I found myself circling back once, then twice, drawn by some masochistic need to see how many people were staring at my picture, to count the number of times I heard my name whispered in passing. By the time I finally forced myself toward homeroom, my jaw was clenched so hard it hurt.
Kieran's seat—the one next to mine that he'd reclaimed a few weeks ago after months in the back row—was empty.
I told myself it didn't mean anything. He had competition training, probably. Or he was running late, which happened sometimes when he had to help his mom with Lily before school. It didn't mean he was avoiding me. Didn't mean he'd seen the poster and decided it was too much, too public, too everything.
Except the worry wouldn't stop gnawing at my chest.
Ms. Thompson swept in right as the bell rang, her usual brisk energy filling the room as she set her coffee down and pulled up attendance on her computer. "Good morning, everyone. I trust you all had a restful weekend?"
Scattered responses. I kept my eyes on the window, watching bare tree branches sway in the wind, trying to ignore the empty seat beside me.
"Before we get started, I want to acknowledge—" Ms. Thompson's voice took on that special tone teachers used when they were about to embarrass someone. "Summer Hayes, would you stand up please?"
My stomach dropped. "Ms. Thompson, I really don't—"
"Stand up," she repeated, but her smile was kind. "Just for a moment."
I stood slowly, feeling every eye in the room turn toward me. My face was already heating up, that familiar flush creeping up my neck.