Chapter 4 The Party
Mia's POV
When Saturday came, my stomach twisted as I paced our shared apartment, undecided, anxious, questioning whether I should even go.
Why bother? I didn't belong in their world anymore. Then came a soft knock on my bedroom door.
"Mia?" Josh's voice drifted in.
A moment later, the door opened and he stepped in, holding a garment bag like it carried something sacred. With a dramatic flourish, he unzipped it and held up the dress like a revelation.
"Alright, princess," he said with a grin. "Time to transform."
I blinked. The dress was beautiful. Creamy chiffon, delicate straps, a soft flowing skirt that shimmered without being loud. It wasn't flashy. It was magic. The kind that didn't need to shout to be seen.
"I can't wear that," I whispered. "Josh, this looks expensive."
"I actually bought it for my sister's birthday," he said casually, laying it across my bed. "But I'm not going home. Not with how things are. So I want you to wear it."
"Josh..." I muttered. He turned to face me, his voice softening. "It fits you. Not just in size. It's you, Mia. Graceful, soft, and strong without even trying."
My throat tightened as Josh gently took my hand and guided me to the tiny vanity in the corner of my room. The mirror was chipped, the frame warped from humidity and time. But with the faint hum of fairy lights overhead, it looked like a portal to a better world.
"Sit," he said, pulling the chair out with mock formality.
I sat as he brushed my hair slowly, carefully, then pinned it back with the delicate clips I hadn't touched in months.
"“You know, your friends didn’t leave because you became weak.” He met my eyes in the mirror. “I think they left because even after losing everything, you still outshone them.”
My breath hitched.
"You didn't fade, Mia. That's what scared them." His gaze dropped to the worn sweater in my lap, then back to my face. "Even with secondhand clothes. Even with bags under your eyes. Even after being thrown away. You walked through those halls with more beauty and grace than they ever had."
I opened my mouth to argue, but no words came.
"They were afraid," he continued gently. "Afraid that the girl they used to need would become someone they could never keep up with. And you did."
My eyes filled with tears, but I didn't cry. Instead, I looked at myself. And for the first time in what felt like forever, I didn't see pity, exhaustion, or shame.
I saw fire in my eyes. Quiet resilience in my posture. A radiance that felt both familiar and new. Like the girl I used to be was still there beneath the scars.
"What if they laugh at me, Josh?" My voice was barely above a whisper as we stepped out of our rundown apartment building, the fading afternoon light brushing soft gold across the cracked pavement.
Josh slowed his steps, his eyes drifting over me like silent reassurance. "Mia, trust me, they won't laugh. In fact, I'm pretty sure their jaws are going to drop the second you walk in."
I gave a small, doubtful laugh, brushing my fingers nervously down the soft fabric.
"I mean it," he added, pausing to face me. "You look beautiful." I looked away, my cheeks warming.
"Thank you," I mumbled.
I clutched the small, elegant purse in my hand, Josh's favorite, the one he never dared carry in public. He had let me borrow it for tonight, only after making me promise not to mention where it came from.
"Use it like it's yours," he had whispered. "But just... don't say it's mine. Not yet."
"But more than that," Josh said now, gently linking his arm with mine the way he always did when I needed grounding, "promise me something."
I glanced up at him, my eyes wide.
"Don't beg them to take you back. Not again. You've done that enough already."
"You don't owe them anything," he continued, his voice quieter now, edged with a gentle fury that only came from caring too much. "If they were real friends, they wouldn't have left when you needed them most. You don't belong to them anymore, Mia. You're not that girl who waited for texts that never came. You're a survivor."
I blinked fast, trying not to cry. "Why do you always say the exact words I need?"
He smiled crookedly. "Because I know you. Even when you forget who you are."
I didn't answer. I couldn't. I just held on to his arm a little tighter.
"And one more thing," he added, his tone shifting back to playful. "If the moment's right... steal a kiss from Daniel tonight."
My head snapped toward him. "Josh!"
"I'm serious!" he grinned. "Those lips have been waiting for too long. It's time they got kissed by someone you actually like." He wiggled his brows in exaggerated mischief.
I shoved his shoulder, blushing furiously. "I told you, I'm going to see his mom."
Josh raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure about that?"
I hesitated. Then smiled softly. "Okay... maybe I want to see him too."
"Atta girl," he said proudly as the taxi pulled up. "That's more like it."
I opened the car door, pausing to take one last look at him.
"Thank you," I said quietly. "For the dress. For the bag. For... everything."
"Always." He gave me that look again, the one that made me feel like I wasn't invisible anymore. "Now go. Show them what they lost."
I climbed in, my heart pounding with something that felt dangerously close to hope. As the taxi pulled away from our narrow driveway, I glanced out the window and waved, watching Josh grow smaller in the distance.
The reflection in the glass showed a girl in a borrowed dress, cheeks flushed, eyes bright. And I didn't feel like the girl they abandoned. I felt like the girl they'd regret letting go.
The taxi slowed to a stop in front of the Rodriguez residence, the soft thump of music already pulsing from the backyard. I exhaled slowly, brushing my fingers over the folds of my dress, Josh's gift, my invisible armor. My hand lingered on the clutch, his clutch, as if it were the only thing holding me together.
I rang the doorbell once, and to my relief, it wasn't Daniel who answered, but Mrs. Rodriguez, my current homeroom teacher and Daniel's mother. Somehow seeing her in casual clothes and not behind a desk made everything feel more surreal.
"Mia!" she exclaimed, pulling me into a warm hug. "You really came."
"I... I wanted to," I replied, my voice trembling slightly. "I wasn't sure if I should."
"Of course you should," she said, brushing a loose strand of hair from my face. "Daniel will be so glad."
I gave a small, grateful smile, even as my stomach started to twist.
Inside, the house was alive with chatter and laughter. Familiar voices from familiar mouths. Once, I would have felt at home here. Now, it all felt too loud.
I spotted Daniel by the sliding doors, laughing with his soccer friends. He looked almost exactly the same, just older, a little taller, harder to read. But when his eyes found mine, his smile faltered. His laughter died instantly. He just looked away, and something cold slid down my spine.
Then it hit me. My heart sank as realization crashed into me. Belle had told them how I felt about Daniel. That was why they were whispering. Why he looked so... unhappy.
I dropped my gaze to the floor, but it didn't stop the burn in my cheeks or the nausea curling in my gut. He hadn't expected me to show up. Worse, he didn't want me there.
Then I heard the voices of my old friends as they walked in from the kitchen and stopped when they saw me.
"Oh my god... is that Mia?" someone whispered, not quietly.
"What is she doing here?"
"Did she come to flirt with Daniel?" I froze. Every word scraped my skin raw.
Daniel turned to them, his voice low and uneasy.
"She's just here to say hi to my mom. I didn't invite her." The words hit like a slap.
My fingers clenched around the soft pink purse, the one I couldn't even admit belonged to someone who loved me better than any of them ever had. My heart, once racing with hope, just dropped.
Before the shame could swallow me whole, Mrs. Rodriguez appeared at my side, calm and fiercely protective.
"Mia, sweetheart, would you mind helping me carry some cupcakes to the backyard?" she asked gently, not acknowledging the whispers at all.
"Of course," I said, my voice tight as I followed her into the kitchen.
From then on, I stayed there, lighting candles, arranging plates, kneeling to help Daniel's little brother who still remembered how I used to swirl frosting and begged me to show him again. I smiled and let myself fade into the background, where no one could accuse me of taking up space.
But when the party truly began and the backyard filled with laughter that didn't reach me, the weight in my chest grew heavier.
I didn't belong here anymore. Not one person from school came to talk to me. Not even Daniel. I caught him glancing once, twice, like he might come over, but he never did.