The final bell rang — not just for the day, but for everything.
School was over.
Twelve whole years, and just like that, it ended with a sound that didn't even last five seconds.
Everyone started shuffling, whispering, half-smiling. But before anyone could escape too fast, Mrs. Matthews raised her hand and cleared her throat.
"Last attendance," she said, like she was trying not to be emotional. "Let's keep it quick."
She started with the usual names, voice calm, face serious like always.
"Amara Blake."
"Here."
"David Essien."
"Present."
"Jonas Carter."
"Here, ma."
She kept going — the names spilling into each other like background noise. But when she got to mine, something in the air paused.
"Zoey Andrews," she called.
Silence.
"Zoey Andrews?"
Still nothing.
And that's because I wasn't there — not really.
I was sitting in that same plastic chair with my legs crossed at the ankle, fingers absentmindedly tracing the edge of my desk. But in my mind, I was already floating.
Thinking about how weird it is that life just… moves.
One moment you're worried about quizzes and uniforms, and the next, you're supposed to be grown. Supposed to have plans. Supposed to know what to do with yourself when no one's calling your name anymore.
"Zoey Andrews!"
The third time, her voice cut through everything.
I snapped back.
"Present, ma," I said quickly, sitting up straighter than I needed to.
Some people turned to look. A few smiled. Mrs. Matthews just gave a small nod and moved on like it was nothing.
But to me, it was something.
Because for a second, I had disappeared.
Not physically. Just… drifted out of the room, out of the version of myself I'd always known. I didn't feel like a student anymore. I didn't feel like a grown-up either. I felt like a blurry in-between.
And I think that's what this summer is —
one long, stretched-out moment between two versions of me.
I write things down so I don't forget how it feels.
Because the feelings always go first.
That day, I walked home slower than usual.
Not because I was tired, but because I wasn't in a rush to get anywhere. The world felt different. The sky was too wide. The street too quiet. Everything too mine now.
And for the first time, I realized that being free doesn't always feel like flying.
Sometimes, it feels like falling gently —
and hoping you land somewhere soft.