The Strange Feeling

My phone buzzed just when I was rinsing a cup at the sink. I wiped my hand on my shorts before picking it up.

Andrew.

“Hey,” I said, sliding into the dining chair.

“Hey you,” his voice came through with that familiar calmness. “I just wanted to check on you. Are you doing okay?”

I looked at the half-filled glass of orange juice in front of me, then at the clock on the wall. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

He paused. “What do you think about the new girl?”

There was a small silence before I said, “She’s okay. Nice kid. Good manners.”

“Just okay?” he teased. 

I shifted in my seat. “It’s test week, Andrew. My brain’s just... full.”

He chuckled. “Fair enough. You’ll do great as always.”

I didn’t reply. Not because I didn’t want to, but because the words felt heavy. We talked for a bit longer, then he hung up.

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the table. The juice glass sat there, still untouched. I stared at it like it held all my test answers. I wasn’t even thirsty. I was just... tired.

Mum’s voice came from the side. “You haven’t touched your food.”

I didn’t even notice her walk in.

“I will,” I said without looking up.

She pulled out a chair and sat down across from me. “That doesn’t sound like you.”

I didn’t answer.

She watched me for a moment, then said, “Is something bothering you?”

I hesitated, then let the words come out. “I’m just nervous. That’s all.”

Mum’s eyes widened slightly. “Nervous? About what?”

“Test tomorrow,” I muttered.

She leaned back, confused. “You? Nervous over a test? You never are. What’s going on?”

I pushed the cup aside. “I don’t know, okay? I just feel off. It’s allowed, isn’t it?”

She didn’t push again. She only nodded and stood, her expression unreadable as she carried her glass back to the sink.

*****

School that afternoon was loud and alive, like it always got when classes ended early. The field was a mess of energy—students were scattered everywhere. Boys kicked footballs and took turns doing tricks that earned loud claps or fake boos. Girls were in little groups—some playing clapping games, others braiding each other’s hair, a few stretching or sitting on the grass with bare feet.

I walked across the field slowly, not really searching, just... moving.

Then I saw them.

Andrew and Sara were under a tree, talking quietly. Not like strangers. More like two people who’d known each other just long enough to be comfortable. She said something that made him laugh. Then he shook his head and looked down at the grass.

I looked away, pretending like I hadn’t seen anything.

But my face had already changed.

“Olivia!” a voice called.

Lola.

She was walking toward me fast, her face full of fake concern.

“I’ve been looking for you,” she said, out of breath.

“You could’ve checked Maria’s pocket,” I replied. “That’s where I was looking for you.”

She giggled, catching the sarcasm, but her eyes quickly narrowed.

I folded my arms.

“Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Olivia,” she added, smirking.

I stared at her for a second. “I just thought you’d act with a little dignity. Sulking up to someone you barely know doesn’t make sense, not with everything going on.”

Lola blinked. “Wow.”

But I was already walking away.

“Seriously?” she called.

I didn’t turn back. She sighed loud enough and turned toward the girls who were stretching near the volleyball net.

I found a quiet spot near the edge of the field and sat on a low concrete block. The wind was soft, blowing strands of hair over my face. Some juniors raced past, chasing a soft plastic ball and laughing like nothing else mattered. My eyes drifted again, this time catching Andrew. He was no longer under the tree.

He’d joined the boys on the field now. He jogged toward the ball, laughed as one of the boys teased him, then took a light kick and passed it down the pitch.

He looked so free and very happy. Like nothing was wrong.

A memory crept in.

That time during third term last year—when we studied together for hours and he fell asleep on my notes. I had to copy the same page twice because his drool smudged the ink. We laughed about it the next day, and I ended up teasing him the whole week, calling him "Professor Sleepy-Genius." He didn’t mind. He laughed louder than I.

Now? He laughs the same way with her. Same dimples. Same quiet glance down after smiling.

Sara stayed under the tree, alone now. She brushed her skirt gently and adjusted her sleeves.

A voice broke into my thoughts.

“Are you good?”

Maria. She was standing a few steps away, squinting against the sun.

“Yeah,” I replied quickly.

She sat beside me anyway. “You’re not talking much today.”

“Just tired,” I said, glancing at the sky.

She followed my gaze. “You looked upset earlier. With Lola.”

I shrugged. “She talks too much.”

Maria smiled a little. “You do know you don’t have to fight every feeling, right?”

I didn’t say anything.

She nudged me softly. “Whatever this is... it’ll pass.”

I blinked hard and focused on my shoelace.

We sat there in silence, watching Andrew miss a shot and laugh about it. A group of girls cheered, and someone called his name like they were waiting for him to wave.

I felt like I was watching a movie I didn’t belong in.

The sun was starting to drop lower. The sky looked calm, soft orange melting into pale blue. The wind wasn’t strong, but it kept brushing past my arms like it was trying to check if I was okay. Even the trees weren’t dancing much—just standing there, quietly listening.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Sara still standing, brushing invisible dust off her skirt.

She looked up.

Our eyes met.

She smiled.

I didn’t smile back.

I stood and walked away—

Straight into the pressure of tomorrow.