The next morning, I woke up with the same heaviness pressing on my chest. School felt like a mountain I had to climb alone. I dressed slowly, the fabric of my shirt feeling heavier than usual, as if it carried the weight of everything I didn't say. I wondered if Tasha felt it too. The invisible distance growing between us, like a shadow creeping across the floor.
At breakfast, I barely touched my food. My parents talked about their plans for the weekend, about meetings and errands, but my mind was elsewhere. Stuck on the space beside me in class, the empty bench under the pine tree, and the distance between us.
When I reached school, I saw Tasha standing near the gate, chatting with Elijah. Her laughter rang out clear and bright, but it didn't reach her eyes. Elijah's hand rested on her shoulder, his touch more possessive than friendly. I clenched my fists, a bitter sting of jealousy rising. I wanted to say something but my voice caught in my throat.
Later, I caught up with her near the lockers. "Hey," I said, trying for casual.
She glanced up, a flicker of surprise in her gaze. "Hey, Kerif."
There was a pause, heavy and awkward.
"Now you're hanging out with Elijah," I said, trying to keep my tone neutral.
Tasha shrugged. "He's just a friend. Don't make it into something it's not."
"I'm not," I insisted, though my heart pounded. "I just… I miss us. The way things used to be."
She looked away, biting her lip. "I miss it too," she said softly.
Before I could say more, Elijah approached, his grin wide but eyes sharp. "Hey, Kerif," he said, clapping a hand on my shoulder a little too firmly. "Tasha and I were just talking about the birthday party."
I forced a smile. "Right. The party."
Elijah's smile didn't falter. "You coming?"
I hesitated. "I don't know yet."
Tasha looked at me, a strange mixture of hope and worry in her eyes.
That weekend, Tasha's birthday party was a small, noisy chaos of music, laughter, and chatter. The backyard was decorated with colorful balloons and strings of lights. Friends filled the space, but I felt like an outsider, standing at the edges.
Elijah was there, always close to Tasha, whispering in her ear, his hand brushing against hers too often to be casual. I watched from across the yard, trying to push down the tight ball of jealousy that threatened to choke me.
Imelda, a girl from our class who had always been quiet and kind to me, noticed my discomfort. She sidled up beside me, offering a shy smile. "Hey, Kerif. Are you okay?"
I nodded, though I wasn't. She looked at me with something like concern, and for the first time that night, I felt a flicker of warmth.
As the evening wore on, Elijah's grip on Tasha tightened. At one point, he pulled her away from the group, near the fence. I saw her try to pull back, but his hands held firm. Panic rose in my chest. I wanted to rush over, to stop it, but my legs refused to move.
Imelda caught my eye and gave me a small nod. "Come on," she whispered.
She led me away from the party, to the quiet of the garden. "You don't have to watch that," she said gently. "You're not alone."
Her words broke through the fog inside me. I looked at her and realized something: maybe I didn't have to face all of this by myself.
The next day at school, Imelda was by my side more often. She laughed easily, asked questions, and seemed genuinely interested in who I was beyond the shadow of Tasha and Elijah. I felt something stirring, a new kind of connection, fragile but real.
Still, my heart kept drifting back to Tasha. I wanted to reach her, to remind her of what we had. But every time I tried, the words tangled in my throat.
One afternoon, I found her sitting alone under the pine tree, sketching in a notebook. I approached slowly.
"Tasha?"
She looked up, eyes wary but not unkind.
"I… I'm sorry," I said, the words spilling out before I could stop them. "For not being there. For everything."
She studied me for a long moment, then nodded. "Me too."
We sat side by side, the silence between us softer this time.
"Do you think we can fix this?" I asked.
She smiled faintly. "I don't know. But I want to try."
That night, I wrote in my journal: Sometimes growing up means learning how to hold on and how to let go at the same time. And maybe that's okay.
The days after Tasha's birthday party passed in a blur of mixed emotions. At school, the hallways seemed narrower, voices louder, and every glance carried a weight I wasn't ready to bear. I still found myself watching Tasha from afar, longing for the easy closeness we once had, but now there was always Elijah between us, a shadow I couldn't ignore.
One afternoon, during break, I was sitting under the old pine tree, flipping through my notebook, when Imelda came and sat beside me.
"Hey," she said softly.
"Hey," I replied, managing a weak smile.
She shifted closer, glancing around to make sure no one was watching. "You looked pretty tense at the party. Are you okay?"
I sighed, closing the notebook. "I don't know. It's just… everything's changing."
Imelda nodded, understanding more than she said. "I get that. It's like the ground's shifting beneath your feet."
We sat in silence for a moment, the wind rustling the pine needles above.
"Do you want to talk about Tasha?" she asked finally.
I looked at her, surprised. Most people pretended not to notice, or avoided the topic altogether.
"I miss her," I admitted. "But it's hard to reach her now. Elijah… he's always around."
Imelda bit her lip. "I've seen how he acts. Not just to you, but to her too."
I swallowed hard. "He's forcing himself on her."
Her eyes widened. "What do you mean?"
I hesitated, afraid to say it aloud. "At the party… he pulled her away. She tried to get loose, but he wouldn't let go. I didn't know what to do."
Imelda's face hardened. "That's not right. You should tell someone."
"I want to, but Tasha… she won't say anything. She's scared, I think."
Imelda put a comforting hand on my arm. "You're a good friend, Kerif. And she's lucky to have you."
I smiled, grateful for her kindness.
"So," she said, eyes flickering with a sudden boldness, "what about me? I've been meaning to ask… do you like anyone?"
I blinked, caught off guard. "What do you mean?"
She shrugged, cheeks flushing. "Like… do you like me?"
My heart raced. I hadn't thought about it before, but sitting there with her, I realized I did care about her. "I… I think I'm still figuring out what I feel."
She laughed softly. "Same here."
The bell rang, and we stood, reluctant to part.
"See you later?" she asked.
"Yeah. See you," I said.
Later that week, the tension with Tasha kept building. She was quieter than usual, her sharp wit dulled. One afternoon, I found her alone in the library, staring out the window.
"Hey," I said gently.
She turned, eyes tired but managing a small smile. "Hey, Kerif."
I sat down beside her. "Can we talk?"
She nodded.
"I'm worried about you," I said. "About Elijah. You don't have to handle this alone."
She bit her lip, then shook her head. "It's complicated. He's… part of the school, part of my life now. I can't just push him away."
I reached out, brushing a stray braid from her face. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to."
Her eyes met mine, and for a moment, the old warmth flickered between us.
"I wish things were simpler," she whispered.
"Me too."
Days later, Imelda found me after class, holding a folded note.
"Tasha asked me to give this to you," she said softly.
I unfolded it carefully. It was a short message, written in Tasha's messy handwriting:
Kerif,
I'm sorry for everything. I'm scared and confused. Thank you for still caring.
Maybe we can talk soon.
I looked up, but Imelda was already gone.
That night, I sat under the stars, clutching the note. For the first time in weeks, hope stirred inside me.
A few days later, I found Tasha waiting for me under the pine tree, her arms wrapped around herself like she was trying to hold all her fears in. The late afternoon sun was soft; the kind of light that makes everything seem both fragile and hopeful.
"Hey," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.
"Hey," she replied, but the smile didn't reach her eyes.
We sat down side by side, the silence stretching between us like a thin wire.
"I got your note," I said finally.
She nodded, biting her lip. "I wasn't sure if you'd want to talk."
"I want to. More than anything."
Her fingers twined nervously in her lap. "It's just… Elijah. He's been pushing me, and I don't know how to stop him. I'm scared, Kerif. I don't want to ruin what we have, but I don't want him near me either."
I swallowed hard, anger and helplessness crashing over me. "You don't have to deal with that alone. We can tell someone, a teacher or your Auntie."
She shook her head. "You don't understand. It's complicated. If I say anything, it might get worse. He's got friends everywhere. And… I'm scared they won't believe me."
Her voice cracked, and my heart broke a little.
"You're not alone," I said firmly. "I'll stand with you. Always."
Tasha looked at me, tears glistening. "Thank you. You're the only one who really sees me."
I reached for her hand, and she didn't pull away.
"I'm sorry I pushed you away," I added. "I was jealous and scared. But I never stopped caring."
She squeezed my hand. "I know."
Just then, footsteps approached. Imelda stood a few feet away, watching us with a hesitant smile.
"Hey," she said softly.
I looked at Tasha. "Imelda's a good friend. I want us all to be okay."
Tasha nodded slowly.
Imelda stepped closer, her eyes flickering between us. "I'm here for both of you. Always."
The three of us sat together under the pine tree, an unspoken promise passing between us: to face whatever came next, together.