Chapter 85 Surviving The Walk
Chapter 85 Surviving The Walk
Through the glass doors, she spots the blur of blue warmups near the curb, a cluster of broad shoulders and loud voices gathered around a black Audi. Jeremy stands half turned, one hand on his gym bag, talking to Chase without seeming to listen. The Royals quartet leans by Scott's sport Car.
Maya follows Melissa’s gaze and inhales sharply. “Oh, come on,” she mutters. “Seriously?”
Spencer lifts his chin, theatrically offended. “Of course they are there. The universe remains committed to humiliating us.”
Marcus gives Melissa a sympathetic look. “We can wait a minute.”
“No,” Melissa says too fast. Waiting feels worse. She tightens her grip on her bag. “It’s fine. We just keep moving.”
Gayle steps closer, her expression easing from alert to quietly protective. “No one has to pretend this is normal,” she says. “We can take the side exit if you want.”
The offer lands like a hand on Melissa’s shoulder. Kind. Practical. Real. But she shakes her head, because the side exit means passing the art wing windows, and the athletic lot is still visible from there. “No side exit,” she whispers. “I can do the front.”
Logan shifts the portfolio under his arm. “Then we do it together.”
Maya reaches for Melissa’s sleeve and gives it a tiny tug, grounding her. “You don’t have to talk to them,” she says. “I’ll do the talking if anyone starts something.”
Spencer snorts. “That should terrify them.”
Melissa almost smiles. Almost.
They move toward the doors in a loose knot, not quite a shield, not quite a procession. The automatic sensors hiss open, and the outside air rolls in, cool and damp. The parking lot looks brighter than it should, all reflective windshields and wet pavement and the harsh metallic gleam of the bike rack by the curb.
Then a voice calls out from the steps.
Scott cups his hands around his mouth. “Well, look who escaped the theatre dungeon,” he calls. “Did Spencer finally finish rehearsing his dramatic death scene?”
Spencer places a hand over his heart. “Cruel,” he says. “I give this school culture, and this is my reward?”
Tyler grins. “Careful, drama club. The parking lot might not survive that much artistic intensity.”
Victoria crosses her arms, letting out a short, clinical laugh that echoes against the wet pavement.
Maya rolls her eyes. “Original.”
"Alright, knock it off," Chase says, stepping forward before Tyler can continue. His tone isn't angry, just firm.
Tyler raises both hands. "Relax. I was joking."
"Then let it stay a joke," Chase replies. "Everybody's tired. Go home."
Melissa moves first, because if she waits, she will not move at all. Maya falls in beside her. Spencer and Marcus follow, Gayle and Logan close behind. The line of them threads past the athletic students, through the gap between the steps and the bike rack, and each footstep feels louder than it should.
No one stops them.
Not Tyler. Not Jeremy. Not Georgia.
Still, Melissa cannot relax until the doors are behind her and the group reaches the edge of the parking lot. Only then does she let her shoulders sag a little.
Melissa lets out a breath she did not know she was holding. Maya nudges her forward with her elbow. “See?” She murmurs. “Still alive.”
“Barely,” Melissa whispers back.
Maya looks at her with a small, crooked smile. “You made it.”
Melissa huffs a laugh that is nearly a sob. “Do not say that too soon.”
Spencer opens the side door with a dramatic sweep of his hand. “Out of the sanctuary of wolves and into the parking lot. Tragic. Inspiring.”
Marcus bumps his shoulder. “You’re unbearable.”
They reach the far lane where the student cars are parked. The late afternoon sun is low, casting long, dramatic shadows across the asphalt. The warmth of the afternoon is rapidly bleeding out, replaced by a sharp, biting chill that catches in Melissa's throat.
“Seriously though,” Maya says, her voice dropping to a gentler, more private register as the rest of the group drifts a few paces ahead. “Are you okay? Tyler is a jerk, but Georgia… Georgia looks at people like she’s trying to figure out which drawer they belong in.”
“I’m fine,” Melissa says, though her fingers are still white-knuckled around the strap of her backpack. “I just want to get home, eat something that doesn’t taste like cafeteria salt, and sleep for twelve hours.”
“A noble ambition,” Spencer chimes in, slowing his pace so he can walk backward in front of them. “Personally, I intend to compose a scathing sonnet about the varsity basketball team, but sleep is a close second.”
“Don’t waste the ink,” Logan mutters, though there was a faint smirk on his face. He stops beside a battered sedan that has seen better decades. “This is me. Anyone need a ride toward the east side?”
“I’m with you,” Gayle says, pulling her keys from her pocket. She glances at Maya, preparing to unlock the passenger side.
“Gayle, I'm going to catch a lift from Marcus today,” Maya answers, waving a hand toward the opposite lane. “He's heading right past my street anyway, so it saves you the round trip.”
“Works for me,” Gayle says, turning her attention over to Logan to finalize their layout coordination for the upcoming literary magazine deadline instead.
Marcus nods in agreement with the plan, offering Melissa one last reassuring smile. “Yeah, I've got you covered, Maya. See you tomorrow, Mel. Don’t let them get in your head.”
One by one, the group begins to splinter, the comfortable shield they have formed around her dissolving into the realities of after-school schedules and family curfews. Logan and Maya climb into the sedan, the engine coughing violently before settling into a loud, rhythmic rattle. Marcus waves as he jogs toward Gayle's car so they can head out together.
That leaves Spencer and Melissa standing under the flickering yellow glow of the first parking lot lightpole.
Spencer adjusts the strap of his oversized messenger bag and turns his attention to Melissa. "Well, my mother awaits in the minivan of destiny, but I am not leaving you to walk alone."
Melissa glances toward the empty bus loop at the front of the school. A single, long yellow shape is idling near the awning, its exhaust forming a pale plume in the cooling air. “The late bus is waiting right by the curb. It should be leaving in a few minutes.”
Spencer nods firmly, matching her stride. Spencer and Melissa walk together towards the school exit gate, navigating the thinning crowd of remaining students.
When they reach the curb, the late school bus doors hiss open, ready for the final departure.
“Farewell, comrade,” Spencer says, giving a sweeping, old-fashioned bow that actually manages to make a passing freshman stare. “May your journey be swift and free of athletic interference.”
Melissa can't help the genuine smile that breaks through her exhaustion this time. “Goodbye, Spencer. Thank you. For everything.”
With a final wave, she steps up onto the bus, and she takes her seat as the vehicle prepares to pull away into the late afternoon gloom, leaving the drama of the school day behind as the doors seal shut.