Friday started early.
Not because I got up on time, but because I kept waking up before my alarm. Once around three when I thought the fridge was making weird noises. Again around five when I couldn't remember if I packed my gym clothes. And then one more time, ten minutes before I actually had to get up.
I wasn't rested. Just rattled soft.
By the time I got to school, the sun had barely done anything for the sidewalk, and Selma was already there at the gate with her usual bottle of whatever green-citrus thing she brewed at home. She gave me that same small smile that said "good morning" without needing to say it.
"You okay?"
"I woke up weird."
"That's not a no."
I didn't argue. Just shrugged and fell in step beside her.
We moved through the gates, drifting along a little off from the bigger clusters of students. I kept adjusting the strap on my bag, something tugging wrong under my shirt. Took me a second to realize what.
I shifted again.
Why am I even wearing this stupid thing?
"This bra still feels pointless."
Selma raised one eyebrow—amused, not judging. "You're barely a few months in, Ely."
"I know. It just feels like I'm carrying around an empty pocket."
"Early days," she said. "You'll fill in. Or you won't. Either way, you're valid."
I didn't answer.
I don't want valid. I just want normal.
The halls were louder than usual—Friday energy, that nervous charge that builds when people are almost free but still stuck here. The seam on the back of my skirt rubbed behind my knee and the bra strap had folded wrong beneath my shoulder, but I didn't stop to fix either. Just kept walking.
Hana and Zahra found us near the lockers. Hana had a donut in one hand and was mid-explanation about why "hot" was a personality trait and not a look.
"I'm just saying," she said, mouth half-full, "hot is a vibe. You can be cute and hot, but not always at the same time. It's balance. It's chemistry."
"You're exhausting," Zahra muttered, eyes flat.
Selma gave me a glance like she was checking if I had the energy to be pulled into another round of whatever this was. I gave the smallest nod.
"What about you, Ely?" Hana asked, turning on me like I was next on her little game show. "What's your type?"
The words hit before I could duck.
"My what?"
"You know," she said, all bright and smug, "boys, girls, mysterious elves—whatever gets the heart rate going."
Zahra sighed. "She means crushes. Ignore the fantasy nonsense."
My chest went tight.
Why now? Why this?
I opened my mouth. Nothing came out. Not a lie, not a joke. Not even the truth. Everything felt too raw and too close to risk letting it slip.
"I don't really... think about that kind of stuff," I managed.
That wasn't a lie. Not really. Since everything started, attraction had just kind of... gone quiet. Not dead. Not gone. Just... shelved. Like my body had decided it had other things to deal with.
Hana's smile softened. "Fair. Honestly? Same."
"She says that," Zahra muttered, "but let a violinist smile at her and she'll marry him on the spot."
"That happened twice."
They bickered for another minute. I didn't join in, but I didn't feel pushed out either.
Not invisible. Just... nearby. That's something.
Math dragged. Zahra sat next to me this time. The girl on the other side kept whispering these ridiculous one-liners under her breath, just loud enough for me to hear. I didn't laugh, but I caught myself smiling once.
Lunch came fast after that. Just us four again, sitting on the grass behind the building. Hana was ranting about how she bombed fencing tryouts but "looked good doing it," which apparently was the important part.
"You tripped over the mat," Zahra said flatly.
"It was a dramatic fall. There's a difference."
I unwrapped my sandwich and stared at it for a while. Wasn't hungry. Still ate anyway. Gave my hands something to do.
Selma sat next to me and handed over a cookie.
"Figured you forgot."
"Thanks."
A breeze kicked up, tugged at Zahra's shirt. She hissed and yanked it down again.
"I swear this dress code was written by monks."
Hana nodded like it was a fact. "Ascetic suffering builds character."
Then her eyes lit up. "We should do something tomorrow. Movie night?"
Zahra raised a brow. "Only if I pick the movie. Not watching a three-hour romance where no one kisses until the credits."
"Fine," Hana said. "But I get to bring snacks."
Selma turned to me. "You in?"
I hesitated.
Say yes. Just say yes. What's the worst that happens?
"Maybe."
"No pressure," she said. "We'll keep it chill."
The bell rang before I could say more. I dusted off my skirt and followed them in.
We walked the halls again, and for once, I didn't feel like I had to be anywhere else.
Selma stayed beside me until the next stairwell, where I stopped without thinking.
She noticed.
"You good?"
I swallowed. "I still feel weird. Even now."
She waited.
"I like being around them," I said. "I like... listening. But I still don't feel like I'm in it. Like I'm pretending to be part of something and hoping no one notices the glitch."
She nodded but didn't speak yet.
"It's like there's this thin wall," I said. "Not big. Not loud. Just there."
"You're not wrong," she said. "It's layers. That's how it works. Especially with girls."
"Layers?"
"We don't always open up the same way. We joke around the real stuff. We compliment sideways. We test people. See who talks too loud. Who listens when you're quiet."
I nodded, slower this time.
"You're not faking it," she said. "You're adjusting."
"What if they never really see me?"
She shrugged. "Then they weren't meant to."
We stood there a minute longer, the stairwell quieter than it had any right to be.
Then she bumped her shoulder against mine.
"Don't quit. Not yet."
I didn't answer.
But I didn't walk away either.