The Quiet Between Us

The cafeteria felt colder today. Not because of the air conditioning, but because of the way everyone looked through me — like I wasn’t even breathing. I sat alone again, my tray untouched. I wasn’t hungry. Hunger felt like a luxury when your heart was always fighting to survive.

I could feel Carter’s stare from across the room.

He wasn’t even pretending anymore. The way he watched me made my skin crawl. Like I was something he owned, something no one else could touch. I kept my head down, counting the seconds until lunch would end. Until I could get away.

I told myself not to look for him — not to look for the one person who hadn’t said a word to me, but who somehow said the most.

But my eyes moved on their own, scanning the room.

And there he was.

Kade sat with his back against the far wall, hands resting on the table, eyes fixed on a book. Alone. Always alone. Just like me.

But unlike me, he didn’t seem lost.

He was still.

That stillness made my heart ache.

Someone bumped into my chair on purpose, jolting me back to reality. Laughter followed. Of course it did. I didn’t even turn around. If I did, they’d know they got to me. Again.

Later in class, I took my seat beside Kade like yesterday. I hadn’t planned to. It just felt… right. Like it was the only place where people didn’t whisper about me.

He didn’t look up. Didn’t flinch. Just kept writing. His handwriting was tight, clean, and fast — like he was always trying to outrun something.

I stared at my own empty notebook. I wanted to write, I really did. But my thoughts were tangled, heavy. Useless.

Then he did something unexpected.

Kade shifted his textbook slightly in my direction, his hand brushing the edge of my notebook. I looked at him, startled. He didn’t meet my gaze, but his jaw clenched, like he’d said something without speaking.

It wasn’t much.

But it was enough.

It was enough to make my chest feel tight in a different way.

After class, I lingered.

Just a little.

I told myself I was looking for my pen. But really, I was just hoping he’d say something. Anything.

He didn’t.

But as he stood, a small folded paper slipped out from under his notebook. He didn’t look back. Didn’t wait.

I stared at it for a long time before picking it up.

One sentence.

"I see more than you think."

No name. No signature.

But I knew it was him.

And for the first time in a long time… I didn’t feel invisible.

But that feeling didn’t last.

The next morning, something new waited for me — folded neatly inside my locker. No one around. No footsteps. Just silence and this… thing.

A note.

Not like Kade’s.

No soft paper. No gentle curve in the writing.

This one was jagged. Torn from something cheap. The ink bled through like it had been pressed down too hard.

“We’re all watching. Even him.”

No name.

I crumpled it without thinking, heart racing. My stomach turned, a sudden sour twist deep inside. Was this about Kade? Or from him?

But the paper didn’t match his — his notes were cleaner. Tighter. Thoughtful.

This wasn’t that.

Still, a sick part of me wondered.

By the time I made it to class, my nerves were frayed. I sat in the back, away from him, unsure of what I was trying to protect — my sanity or my hope.

Kade didn’t look at me.

But his foot tapped. Just once. Then stilled.

The bell rang. People flooded out. I moved slowly, dragging my steps.

When I reached the front door, I froze.

Another note.

Taped right across the center. Slanted and aggressive.

“You don’t belong here. Maybe you never did.”

No signature.

No handwriting match. Still not Kade’s. But it wasn’t Carter’s either — not his style. He liked public humiliation, loud whispers, sideways glares. He didn’t bother hiding.

This? This was worse.

It was hidden warfare.

Everywhere I turned, something watched. I started seeing eyes in reflections that weren’t there. Hearing footsteps when the hallway was empty. Feeling cold hands against my back in warm rooms.

Paranoia.

Or… not.

---

Later that night, back at home, I returned to my room to find another note under my pillow.

“He’s not who you think he is. And you’re not safe. Ask Carter.”

That name hit like a hammer.

I hadn’t told anyone about Kade. Not even that he sat beside me. No one noticed — or cared enough to.

So how did this person know?

My hands shook. I stared at the paper like it might open its mouth and scream.

I shoved it into my drawer. Locked it. Paced.

Outside, someone knocked once. Then again.

I didn’t move.

Then a third note slipped under the door.

This one was different.

Clean. Folded.

“Don’t believe everything they tell you.”

That was Kade’s writing.

I held both notes in my hands.

One threatening.

One warning.

Two different voices.

But one truth: I was being hunted.

And now I didn’t know who I should fear more…

The ones I already hated —

Or the only one who ever truly saw me.

That night, I didn’t leave my room. Not once.

I had come home, gone straight upstairs, and shut the door behind me like I was locking out a monster I couldn’t see. I hadn’t touched my dinner. Hadn’t even changed my clothes. I just sat on the edge of my bed, gripping the note in my hand, afraid to look at it again but more afraid to let it go.

The clock ticked. Hours passed. Still, I couldn’t move. Sleep never came. My eyes stayed wide open, staring at the shadows that crawled along the walls as if they knew something I didn’t.

One note from Kade had shaken me.

But it was the second note — the one without a name, the one written in slanted, sharp letters on crumpled paper and tucked into the sleeve of my locker — that had frozen the blood in my veins.

"You think you're special now? Watch your back."

No name. No sign of who had written it. Nothing but that raw, trembling threat.

I wanted to believe it wasn’t Kade. I needed to believe it wasn’t him. But the fact was, I didn’t know him. Not really. He had seen me when no one else did, but that didn’t mean he saw me in a good way. What if I had misread it all? What if I was just another target, another joke waiting to unravel?

And Carter… his laugh earlier that day hadn’t left my head. Too loud. Too knowing. Too cruel.

Could he have slipped that note in? It was the kind of thing he would do. It felt like him. But Carter wasn’t subtle. And this felt personal.

I didn’t belong in their world. The world of boys who barely glanced my way and girls who rolled their eyes when I walked past. Anyone could’ve written that note. Everyone had a reason to.

The weight of not knowing was worse than anything I could’ve imagined.

I stared at the wall until the edges of the wallpaper blurred. My fingers clutched the paper like it could anchor me to something real. But it only made everything feel worse.

I didn’t even hear my mom calling.

“Maren!” she yelled from downstairs. “Maren!”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. My throat felt like it was glued shut.

Footsteps stomped up the stairs, every step heavy with her usual frustration. The door creaked open, and I barely registered her standing there, hands on her hips, a mixture of concern and exasperation etched into her face.

“Maren, what is wrong with you? This has been going on all week! Now, explain yourself.”

She followed my frozen gaze and saw the crumpled note in my hand.

Her lips pressed into a thin line.

Without a word, she disappeared down the hall.

I didn’t flinch. I didn’t wonder what she was doing. I just stayed still, breathing shallowly like movement might bring something crashing down.

Then — cold.

Splash.

Water hit my face and chest, and I gasped, the world snapping back into place in a single shivering moment. My mother stood over me, holding an empty cup, her expression unimpressed.

“Really, Maren?” she said. “Again? How many times is this going to happen? What is going on with you?”

I blinked. The note slipped from my fingers and fell to the floor like a dead thing.

“Yes, Mother,” I muttered.

She crossed her arms. “Well? I’m waiting.”

“Nothing,” I lied. “Nothing, Mother.”

She didn’t believe me. She never did. But she wasn’t going to press it either.

“Well then,” she said sharply. “Get ready for school. We’re not going to be late. Again.”

I nodded. Arguing wasn’t worth it. She wouldn’t understand. She never did.

I peeled off my damp clothes and dragged myself into a new set. My limbs felt like they didn’t belong to me. I barely looked in the mirror. What would be the point?

Before zipping up my backpack, I picked up the note and tucked it deep into the front pocket.

Maybe I’d show Carter. Or maybe I’d just watch him — study him — and see what his next move would be. But Kade? I wouldn’t say a word. I was too afraid. Afraid of his eyes. Afraid of being wrong. Afraid of being right.

Because if he wasn’t who I thought he was…

Then I was more alone than ever.