Annabelle snickered beside her. "Guess it's easier when you don't have friends stealing your spotlight."
Trisha leaned against the railing, eyes scanning Blue from head to toe. "Or other people's attention. Some girls just don't know when to stop."
Blue kept walking.
Her chest tightened, but her face stayed calm. She didn't slow. Didn't look back. Silence was the only answer she was willing to give.
Ann scoffed. "Wow. Ignoring us now? Must think she's too good."
"Or too guilty," Annabelle added, smiling sweetly. "Funny how things fall apart when people get exposed."
Blue's fingers curled into her palm.
Before the words could sink deeper, footsteps matched hers.
"Hey," James said softly, falling into step beside her. "You okay?"
She exhaled, just a little. "Yeah."
Ann noticed.
Her smile vanished.
"Oh, of course," Ann snapped. "Here comes the backup."
James glanced over, unimpressed. "Is there a problem?"
Ann's eyes burned. "Stay out of this."
He shrugged. "Hard to, when you're yelling halfway down the stairs."
Trisha rolled her eyes. "She doesn't need saving."
"Good," James replied coolly. "Then stop acting like she does."
Blue didn't look at them as she and James continued down, but she could feel it. The heat of Ann's stare. The way anger clung to the air behind them.
Ann's voice followed anyway. "This isn't over."
Blue didn't respond. She didn't need to.
Later that day, Alan caught up with her near the lockers.
"Hey," he said casually. Too casually. "By the way, you know about Asha, right?"
Blue paused. "Know what?"
Alan blinked. "Wait. You don't?"
Her stomach sank. "Alan."
He frowned. "I thought you knew. She's been going out with a guy from the next class for a while now. Everyone over there knows."
A while.
Those words echoed.
"Oh," Blue said quietly. "No. She didn't tell me."
Alan scratched his head. "That's… weird. I just assumed—"
"It's fine," she cut in, forcing a small smile. "Thanks for telling me."
He studied her face, uncertain. "You sure you're okay?"
"Yeah," she said again. Too quickly. "I'm fine."
He nodded slowly and walked off, leaving her alone with the noise in her head.
She sat on the edge of the bench outside, watching students pass, laughter and chatter blurring together.
A while.
So that's why Asha was always in the next class. Why she smiled at her phone more. Why she never said anything.
Blue felt something twist inside her. Not anger.
Just hurt.
If she wanted to tell me, Blue thought, she would have.
She didn't go looking for answers. Didn't confront her. Didn't ask questions she already knew the meaning of.
Instead, she stood up, adjusted her bag, and walked back inside.
Blue didn't change the way she acted.
That was the strangest part.
The next morning, she greeted Asha the same way she always had. A soft "hey." A small smile. No accusation tucked between the words. If Asha noticed the pause that followed, she didn't say anything.
They sat together during first period, but the space between their desks felt wider than before.
Asha kept glancing at her phone.
Blue noticed. She always noticed.
So this is how it happens, she thought.
During break, Asha stood up quickly. "I'll be back," she said, already halfway toward the door.
Blue nodded. "Okay."
She didn't ask where she was going.
Elise slid into the empty seat beside her, lowering her voice. "You good?"
Blue shrugged. "I think so."
"That didn't sound convincing."
Blue smiled faintly. "I'm just tired."
Elise didn't push. She never did when Blue used that tone.
Across the yard, Blue caught sight of Ann laughing with her group, head tilted back, confidence loud and careless. Annabelle whispered something in her ear and they both glanced her way.
Blue looked away first.
I won't give you that, she told herself.
Later, as she packed her books, James stopped by her desk again.
"You okay today?" he asked.
She looked up, surprised by the genuine concern in his eyes. "Yeah. Why?"
"You've been quiet."
She let out a breath. "Just thinking."
He nodded like he understood more than she said. "If you ever need someone to sit with, I'm around."
"Thanks," she replied, meaning it.
When the final bell rang, Blue walked home slower than usual. The road felt longer. The noise of the day clung to her even in silence.
That night, her phone buzzed.
Asha's name lit up the screen.
Hey. Are you mad at me?
Blue stared at the message for a long moment.
Her thumb hovered over the keyboard.
Mad? No.
Hurt? Yes.
But some truths don't need to be typed.
She replied instead:
No. I'm okay.
The lie was gentle. Almost kind.
She set her phone aside and lay back, staring at the ceiling as the room darkened.
Blue didn't plan the confrontation.
It happened in the quiet space between classes, when the noise softened and people moved with less urgency. Asha was alone for once, sitting by the window, scrolling through her phone with that familiar half-smile.
Blue stopped in front of her desk.
"Asha," she said calmly. "Can I talk to you?"
Asha looked up, surprised, then nodded. "Sure."
Blue sat down, folding her hands together to keep them steady. "Alan told me."
"Told you what?" Asha asked, though her eyes flickered. Just once.
"That you've been going out with someone from the next class," Blue said. No anger. Just truth.
Asha blinked, then laughed softly. "Oh. That."
Blue waited.
"I thought you knew," Asha continued easily. "I mean… most people do."
The words landed heavier than Blue expected.
Most people do.
"Oh," Blue said quietly.
Asha tilted her head. "Didn't you?"
Blue opened her mouth. Closed it again.
There were so many things she could say. That she was her friend. That she would have liked to hear it from her first. That knowing something because "most people do" wasn't the same as being trusted with it.
Instead, she shook her head slightly. "No. I didn't."
Asha frowned, just a little. "I didn't mean it like that. I just assumed—"
"It's fine," Blue said quickly, standing up. "Really. I just wanted to check."
Asha studied her face. "You're not upset, right?"
Blue forced a small smile. "No. It's your life."
And maybe that was the most painful part.
It was true.
She walked away before the silence could stretch further, before her voice could betray her.