LOGINBeckett
The next morning should feel normal. That’s what I tell myself as I walk through the front doors of school. Yesterday was one weird conversation. One argument. One moment. That’s it. People have arguments every day. It shouldn’t still be sitting in the back of my mind twenty-four hours later. It definitely shouldn’t be the first thing I think about when I walk into the building. And yet the first person I notice is Ella James. She’s standing at her locker halfway down the hall, trying to balance three textbooks while working the combination lock. Nothing about her looks different. The same oversized sweater hangs past her wrists. Her dark hair falls forward, partly hiding her face. She looks exactly like she did last week. Exactly like she did last month. Exactly like she has for years. But for some reason, I can’t stop looking. “Yo.” Sean bumps my shoulder. “You good?” I drag my attention away from Ella. “Yeah.” He gives me a look that says he doesn’t believe me. Unfortunately, he’s probably right. We start walking down the hallway with the rest of the guys. Around us, the school is waking up. Lockers slam. Someone shouts from across the hall. A couple freshmen nearly run into each other because neither of them is paying attention. Normal. Everything looks normal. Except my brain keeps drifting back to yesterday. To the way Ella looked standing in front of me. To the way she didn’t back down. To the way she looked disappointed when I stood there and did nothing. That part bothers me more than I want it to. Because she wasn’t wrong. I didn’t do anything. I never do. For years, I’ve convinced myself that’s different from being involved. I don’t throw the spitballs. I don’t start most of the jokes. I don’t go out of my way to make her life miserable. But standing there while everyone else does? That’s not exactly innocent either. I know that. I just don’t like thinking about it. Ahead of us, Ella closes her locker. She adjusts her backpack and takes a breath. A small breath. Most people wouldn’t notice it. I do. And suddenly I understand what felt different yesterday. It’s not her appearance. It’s not her clothes. It’s not even her attitude. It’s that she’s expecting something now. Bracing for it. Like she’s already waiting for the first insult of the day. Something about that realization settles heavily in my chest. “Hey, James!” I close my eyes. Sean. Of course. The guys around us laugh automatically. Not because the joke is funny. Because this routine is familiar. Everybody knows their role. Sean says something stupid. Ella gets embarrassed. People laugh. The day continues. That’s how it’s always worked. That’s how I’ve allowed it to work. Ella stops walking. For a second, I think she’s going to ignore him. Part of me hopes she does. Not because it’s fair. Because it’s easier. Then she turns around. Slowly. Deliberately. And looks right at us. Not at the floor. Not at the lockers. At us. At him. At me. “This again?” Her voice isn’t loud. That’s what makes it interesting. She sounds annoyed. Like she’s already tired of the conversation before it’s started. Like Sean is inconveniencing her instead of intimidating her. A few students nearby glance over. Sean grins. “Oh, she talks now.” Normally that would’ve gotten a bigger reaction. Today it doesn’t. People are watching. Waiting. Trying to figure out what happens next. “So that’s your thing?” Ella asks. Sean frowns slightly. “What?” She shrugs. “Repeating the same three jokes over and over until someone laughs?” A surprised laugh comes from somewhere behind me. Sean’s grin slips. Only for a second. But I see it. Ella sees it too. Interesting. For years, she’s been the one reacting. Now she’s making him react. “Careful, James,” Sean says. “You’re starting to sound confident.” Ella tilts her head. “No.” The corner of her mouth lifts slightly. “I’m starting to sound bored.” This time the laughter is louder. Not from everyone. Not even from most people. But enough. Enough that Sean notices. Enough that I notice. And suddenly the dynamic shifts. Just a little. For years, everybody expected Ella to play a certain role. The quiet girl. The easy target. The one who never pushes back. Today she refuses. And nobody knows what to do with that. Including me. Sean takes a step forward. Not threatening. Not exactly. But testing. Trying to get control of the moment back. The hallway seems to tighten around us. Students slow down. People stop pretending they aren’t watching. Everybody loves a spectacle. Especially when it involves someone breaking character. “You getting brave now?” Sean asks. The question hangs there. Waiting. I could stop this. The thought hits me immediately. One sentence. That’s all it would take. Leave it alone, Sean. Done. Over. Instead, I stand there. Exactly where I’ve always stood. Not helping. Not participating. Not stopping it. The safe position. The coward’s position. Ella’s eyes find mine. Just for a second. But it’s enough. Because I see recognition there. Not surprise. Not hope. Not disappointment. Recognition. Like she already knows exactly what choice I’m going to make. Like she never expected anything different. That shouldn’t bother me. It does. A lot. “You done?” she asks, looking back at Sean. Her voice is steady. Calm. Completely under control. “Or do you need another minute?” A few people laugh. This time they’re definitely laughing at Sean. His expression tightens. For the first time all morning, he looks uncomfortable. Good. The thought comes so fast it catches me off guard. Good. Sean looks around, realizes the crowd isn’t completely on his side anymore, and immediately loses interest. “Whatever.” He waves a hand dismissively. “Not worth it.” And just like that, it’s over. No dramatic ending. No shouting. No scene. Ella doesn’t celebrate. Doesn’t smile. Doesn’t even look satisfied. She simply turns around and walks away. Calm. Unhurried. Like none of us matter enough to ruin her day. I watch her go. I shouldn’t. But I do. Because something keeps nagging at me. For years, I thought Ella was quiet because that was who she was. Now I’m starting to wonder if she was quiet because nobody ever gave her a reason not to be. “Yo.” Sean nudges my shoulder. “You were weirdly quiet.” I tear my gaze away. “So were you.” He scoffs. “Please. I let her have that.” I almost laugh. Not because it’s funny. Because it’s complete bullshit. He knows it. I know it. The reason he backed off wasn’t because he let her win. It’s because she didn’t lose. And suddenly those aren’t the same thing. The bell rings overhead. The crowd begins moving again. Conversations restart. People continue with their day. The moment disappears for everyone else. But not for me. Because one thought follows me all the way to first period. I could’ve stopped it. Not just today. Any day. Last week. Last year. The hundred other times it happened. I could’ve said something. Done something. Been better than this. And I didn’t. For the first time in a long time, I don’t like what that says about me. What’s worse? I think Ella figured that out long before I did.BeckettThere is a spreadsheet on our kitchen table.I immediately want to leave.“What is that?”Dad looks up from his laptop.“College.”“No. That’s Excel.”“Sit down.”“I suddenly remembered I have homework.”Mom points at the chair.“Sit.”Apparently I’ve reached the stage of life where my future is decided by cells and columns.Terrifying.I sit.Dad turns the laptop toward me.“Westfield’s offer.”“I know what they offered.”“Do you know what it actually costs?”“Yes.”He raises an eyebrow.“Approximately.”“Exactly.”Dad starts clicking.Tuition.Housing.Meal plan.Books.Fees.Fees for things I didn’t know could have fees.“Why am I paying an activity fee?”“Because college enjoys stealing money,” Dad says.Mom smacks his shoulder.“What? It does.”Then Dad subtracts the scholarship.The number left isn’t nothing.But it’s a hell of a lot smaller.I stare at it.“We can handle that,” Dad says.Something tightens in my chest.“You shouldn’t have to.”“Beckett.”“No, seriously.
EllaMy mother is cleaning the refrigerator at eleven o’clock at night.Not putting groceries away.Not wiping up a spill.Cleaning it.Shelves are spread across the kitchen counter, every condiment we own is lined up beside the toaster, and Mom is attacking the vegetable drawer like it personally offended her.I stand in the doorway.“Should I call someone?”She doesn’t turn around.“Why?”“Because you’ve snapped.”“I’m cleaning.”“At eleven o’clock.”“It needed it.”I pick up a bottle.“This mustard expired seven months ago.”“Throw it away.”I look at another.“Relish. Eleven months.”“Throw it away.”“Mom, there’s a salad dressing here that could legally start kindergarten.”That gets a laugh.Finally.But she keeps scrubbing.I watch her for another minute.Something is wrong.“Okay.”“What?”“Give me the sponge.”“No.”“Mom.”“Ella.”I take it anyway.She glares at me.“You’re acting weird.”“I’m cleaning the refrigerator.”“Exactly.”“I clean.”“Not appliances after bedtime.”S
EllaBeckett has been on the phone with Westfield for thirty-seven minutes.I know this because I am not waiting for him.I am simply sitting at my kitchen table with my chemistry book open while occasionally checking the clock.Every forty seconds.Completely different.Mom walks through the kitchen, takes one look at me, and opens the refrigerator.“You’re going to burn a hole through the wall.”“I’m studying.”“You haven’t turned the page in twenty minutes.”“It’s complicated chemistry.”“Your book is upside down.”I look down.Shit.Mom laughs.“I’m worried about him.”“I know.”“What if they don’t offer enough?”“Then he considers his other options.”“What if they offer everything?”“Then he considers his other options.”I frown.“You’re terrible at this.”“At what?”“Giving me the answer I want.”She sits across from me.“Which answer do you want?”I open my mouth.Nothing.That’s the problem.I want Beckett to get the scholarship because he’s worked for it.I want him to have c
BeckettNobody tells you the end of your high school football career smells like sweat, cheap body spray, and somebody’s feet.I sit on the bench in front of my locker while half the team acts like nothing happened.Corey is arguing about where we’re eating.Two freshmen are throwing athletic tape at each other.Coach has already yelled twice for everyone to get dressed.My uniform is still on.I don’t want to take it off.That’s stupid.It’s a jersey.I’ve worn dozens of them.But this one has grass stains across the shoulder and dirt ground into the knees, and somewhere between the touchdown and Ella kissing me on the field, it became the last one.Sean drops onto the bench beside me.“You planning to shower?”“Eventually.”“You smell like ass.”“Thanks.”“Ella’s waiting.”“I know.”“Then definitely shower.”I elbow him.He laughs, but then looks around the locker room.“We’re done.”“Yep.”“That sucks.”“Yep.”He nods.“Good talk.”We’ve never been particularly talented at feelings
EllaThe first time I watched Beckett Cross play football, I sat three rows from the top and hoped nobody noticed me.Tonight I’m standing against the railing in his jersey while Lila paints a crooked number twelve on my cheek.“Stop moving.”“You’re putting paint near my eyeball.”“Beauty requires sacrifice.”“I don’t think blindness counts.”She grabs my chin.“Hold still.”The stadium is packed.Last game of the season.Last time Beckett will wear Oakridge colors.That part doesn’t feel real.Maybe because Beckett has always been the quarterback.Even when I hated him.Even when I secretly watched him.Even when I told myself I didn’t care.Football and Beckett have always seemed permanent.Apparently nothing is.“Done.”Lila holds up her phone camera.The twelve is definitely crooked.“You suck at this.”“You’re welcome.”Sean appears behind us wearing enough school colors to look like a mascot exploded on him.“Cross is looking for you.”“He’s on the field.”“Exactly.”I look dow
Beckett“Congratulations.”That’s it.One word.One fucking word, and Ella doesn’t move.Her phone is in her hand. Her mom is leaning over one shoulder. I’m practically breathing down the other.“Ella?”She blinks.“I got in.”Her mom screams.Ella jumps.Then her mom grabs her, and suddenly they’re both crying.I stand there smiling like an idiot.She got in.North Ridge.The school she wanted before she ever thought about where I might go.The school eight hours away.Eight.Fucking.Hours.I shove that thought down so hard it should require medical attention.Ella looks at me over her mom’s shoulder.Her smile wobbles.I know exactly what she’s thinking.So I don’t give her time to ask.I grab her.“You fucking did it.”She laughs against my chest.“Language,” her mom says while crying.“Sorry.”“No, you’re not.”“No.”Ella pulls back.“You’re happy?”There it is.I hate that she has to ask.“Are you kidding me?”“Beckett—”“You got into North Ridge.”“I know.”“The school you’ve b
Ella The house is quiet when I walk in. It always is. The front door shuts behind me with a soft click, and the silence settles over everything before I even take another step. It’s the kind of silence that feels too big for one person. Heavy. Familiar. Waiting. “Mom?” I call anyway. Nothing.
Beckett She wasn’t supposed to talk back. That was the problem. That was the thought that had been stuck in my head all damn day, circling around and around no matter how many times I told myself to drop it. Not practice. Not class. Not Coach ripping into me twice because I missed a route I co
Ella By lunch, everybody knows. Of course they do. News travels through our school faster than wildfire, especially when it involves someone people actually care about. Or in this case, someone people definitely care about and someone they usually pretend doesn’t exist. I know before anyone say
Ella “Hey, James. Did your closet finally lose a fight with a dumpster?” Laughter broke out behind me. I didn’t turn around. That was rule number one. Actually, it was the only rule that really mattered. Don’t react. Don’t engage. And whatever you do, don’t let them see it hurts. The hallwa







