We pulled up to the school. I can see the concern look on Mrs. Blake’s Face. “Are you sure you’re ready, Emily?” she asked, her voice gentle but firm. “You’re still recovering, and taking Friday off wouldn’t be the worst idea. It would give you a longer weekend to rest.”

“I’m fine,” I insisted, though my voice was still a little hoarse. I wasn’t at full strength yet, but I hated the thought of falling behind. “I don’t want to miss any more work.”

She sighed, her brows knitting together. “I just don’t want you pushing yourself too hard too soon.”

“I won’t,” I reassured her, pulling on my coat. “If I start feeling bad, I’ll go to the nurse. I promise.”

Mrs. Blake studied me for a moment, then let out a quiet sigh of defeat. “Alright. But I’m writing you a note for gym class. You shouldn’t be running around or pushing yourself physically when you’ve just gotten over a fever.”

I blinked, surprised but grateful. “Oh. Yeah, okay. That’s probably a good idea.”

She smiled a little, already moving toward the kitchen counter where a notepad and pen rested. “I know you,” she said as she started writing. “You’d try to tough it out rather than admit you weren’t feeling up to it.”

I couldn’t exactly argue with that, so I just shrugged and waited as she jotted down a quick but firm excuse for my gym teacher.

***To Whom It May Concern,
Emily was recently ill and is still in recovery. Please allow her to sit out of physical activity for today. Let me know if you need anything further.
- Mrs. Evelyn Blake***

She tore the note from the pad and folded it neatly before handing it to me. “Give this to your gym teacher as soon as you get to class,” she instructed. “And if you start feeling lightheaded or exhausted at any point, I want you to go to the nurse’s office. No stubbornness, okay?”

I nodded, tucking the note into my backpack. “Okay.”

Mrs. Blake studied me for a moment longer, then reached out and adjusted my scarf, tucking it more securely around my neck. It was such a small, motherly gesture that it caught me off guard, warming something deep in my chest.

“Alright,” she said softly. “You be careful out there.”

I managed a small smile. “Thanks, Mrs. Blake.”

She squeezed my shoulder gently before I opened the door, letting in a rush of crisp morning air. The cold hit my cheeks instantly, but I barely noticed as I stepped outside, my breath curling in the winter air.

It felt good to be getting back to normal—or at least, as normal as things could be.

The familiar sound of lockers slamming and the steady hum of voices echoing through the halls greeted me as I stepped into the school building. It felt strange to be back after being out for so many days—like the world had kept moving forward without me. Everything looked the same, yet I felt out of sync, like I was stepping into a story I had missed too many pages of.

I tightened my grip on the straps of my backpack, ignoring the slight wave of dizziness that washed over me as I moved toward my locker. My body still felt a little off, weaker than usual, but I was determined to get through the day. The last thing I wanted was to draw any more attention to myself.

As I spun the combination lock, I heard my name being called over the usual school noise.

“Emily!”

Jasmine’s voice rang out above the din, and I turned just in time to see her hurrying toward me, her ponytail bouncing as she weaved through the crowd. Mia followed closely behind her, her expression more subdued but equally curious.

“You’re back!” Jasmine announced dramatically, skidding to a stop beside me with a grin. “We thought you got suspended or something.”

I blinked, caught off guard. “Suspended? Why would you think that?”

Mia shrugged, leaning against the lockers. “Well, you were gone all week, and no one knew why. People started making up stories.”

“Yeah,” Jasmine chimed in with a laugh, “some kid swore you punched Trevor again and got kicked out.”

I stared at them in disbelief. “That’s... not even close to what happened.” I shook my head as I grabbed a notebook from my locker. “I was sick.”

Jasmine’s smile disappeared in an instant, replaced by concern. “Sick? Are you okay now?”

I hesitated, not wanting to make a big deal out of it. “Yeah, I’m feeling better now. But it was bad for a bit. I even went to the hospital.”

Both of their eyes widened.

“Wait— the hospital?” Mia repeated, straightening up. “What happened?”

I fumbled with my books, shifting them in my arms. I hated how serious they suddenly looked, how their concern made the whole thing feel bigger than I wanted it to be. “It was just a really bad virus,” I explained, trying to keep my tone light. “I got really dehydrated, and they had to give me fluids and stuff, but I’m okay now.”

Jasmine gave me a sympathetic look, her brows furrowed. “That sounds horrible. You should’ve texted or something—we were worried about you.”

I hesitated, feeling a little guilty. “I didn’t want to bother anyone,” I admitted, offering a small smile. “But thanks.”

Mia exhaled, giving me a side-eye. “You wouldn’t have been bothering us, you know.”

“Yeah,” Jasmine agreed, nudging my arm. “Next time, at least let us know you’re not dying or anything.”

I let out a soft laugh, the tension in my chest loosening slightly. “I promise.”

Mia smirked. “Good, because school’s been boring without you.”

“Seriously,” Jasmine added, shaking her head. “Trevor’s not here, so there’s been no drama. And, of course, half the school has decided to come up with their own versions of why you were gone.”

I sighed. “Great. So what other crazy rumors are out there?”

Jasmine pretended to count on her fingers. “Well, let’s see. There’s the ‘Emily got suspended for fighting’ theory, which we already covered. One person said you were on some secret trip to a different state. And another one—” she broke off into giggles. “Someone actually said you were—wait for it—on a reality TV show.”

I raised an eyebrow. “A reality show? Seriously?”

“Oh yeah.” Jasmine nodded, her eyes dancing with amusement. “Apparently, you were ‘cast as a contestant’ and had to keep it a secret.”

Mia rolled her eyes. “People will believe anything.”

I snorted. “Right? If I were on a reality show, I’d at least hope it’d be something cool.”

Jasmine tapped her chin, pretending to consider. “Like, what? The Challenge? Ooh—Junior Chef Showdown?”

I laughed. “I’d probably burn the kitchen down.”

“True,” Mia said with a smirk. “Guess it’s good you were just sick and not off living some dramatic double life.”

I smiled, feeling a little lighter. The awkwardness of coming back after being gone had faded, replaced by the warmth of their familiar banter. They had been worried about me. I wasn’t just some shadow that disappeared and went unnoticed—I had friends who cared.

Mia slung her backpack over one shoulder as the warning bell rang. “We better get to class before people start making up more ridiculous rumors about you.”

“Like how you’re actually a government spy,” Jasmine added as we started walking. “Wait—that one’s actually kind of cool.”

“Yeah,” I joked. “Let’s start that one instead.”

Mia smirked.

As the three of us made our way toward class, the hall buzzed with the usual pre-bell chaos—students rushing to lockers, voices overlapping in animated conversations. I caught snippets of gossip as we walked, most of it mundane, but one name seemed to pop up repeatedly.

Trevor.

“…suspended for a whole week,” someone whispered as we passed.

“…about time someone did something,” another voice said.

I glanced at Jasmine and Mia, who exchanged knowing looks. Jasmine raised an eyebrow. “Guess word gets around fast,” she said.

“Yeah,” Mia added with a smirk. “He finally got what was coming to him.”

I let out a slow breath, my stomach twisting. Part of me felt relief knowing Trevor wasn’t here to taunt me, but another part felt uneasy. The suspension might’ve silenced him for now, but would it really change anything in the long run?

“He’s not going to bother you for a while,” Jasmine said, her voice gentler now, as if she could read my thoughts. “And honestly? He deserves it.”

“I know,” I replied, my voice quiet. “It’s just… weird. Like, he’s gone, but I still feel like he’s—”

“Everywhere?” Mia finished for me. “Yeah, I get that. But don’t let him live rent-free in your head, Emily. He’s not worth it.”

I nodded, their words grounding me. The day felt lighter already knowing he wouldn’t be around to make things harder. As we walked into class and took our seats, I allowed myself a small smile. For the first time in a long time, it felt like the halls weren’t as suffocating.

Trevor might’ve been a shadow in the background of my thoughts, but he wasn’t here. And for now, that was enough.

By the time lunch rolled around, I was finally starting to feel like I was settling back into the normal flow of school. I still felt a little tired, but having Jasmine and Mia by my side, catching me up on everything I’d missed, made it easier to forget about the lingering fatigue. We grabbed our food and made our way toward our usual table, the cafeteria already buzzing with activity.

“So, the new substitute in history?” Mia said as we sat down. “Total pushover. Someone convinced him we don’t usually take notes, and he just went along with it.”

Jasmine snickered. “Yeah, but that backfired because now we’re all going to have to scramble to catch up before the test.”

“Still worth it,” Mia shrugged, popping a grape into her mouth.

I smiled, shaking my head. “Sounds like I picked the wrong week to be out.”

Before either of them could reply, a loud splat echoed across the cafeteria, followed by a collective gasp. My head snapped up just in time to see a clump of mashed potatoes sliding down the side of someone’s face near the center of the room.

“Oh no,” Jasmine muttered, eyes wide. “It’s happening.”

“What’s happening?” I asked, confused.

Mia groaned, already ducking slightly. “A food fight.”

I barely had time to process her words before chaos erupted. Someone retaliated with a flying handful of peas, which hit the wrong person entirely, setting off a chain reaction. A slice of pizza sailed through the air, missing its target and landing on a lunch tray with a splat. Trays clattered, chairs scraped against the floor, and laughter mixed with the sound of students shrieking as more food took flight.

Jasmine grabbed my arm. “We are not getting involved in this.”

“No argument here,” I said quickly, instinctively shielding my tray as a roll bounced off the table next to us.

We hunched lower, trying to stay out of the crossfire. The three of us exchanged wary glances as a carton of milk was thrown across the room, bursting open midair and showering a group of unlucky students. The cafeteria staff yelled for order, but no one seemed to be listening. The chaos had taken over.

“Should we move?” I asked, eyeing the nearest exit.

“Absolutely not,” Mia hissed. “The second you stand up, you’re a moving target.”

Jasmine nodded, grimacing as a glob of spaghetti hit the floor a few feet away. “We wait it out.”

We huddled at our table, ducking whenever something particularly dangerous flew overhead. A few minutes later, the shrill sound of a whistle cut through the madness, and the assistant principal stormed into the cafeteria, her face red with fury.

“ENOUGH!” she bellowed, her voice cutting through the laughter and chaos. “EVERYONE, SIT DOWN RIGHT NOW!”

The cafeteria fell into an eerie silence as students slowly dropped back into their seats, some covered in food, others looking guilty. Teachers flooded in from the hallways, their expressions ranging from exasperated to furious. The assistant principal’s gaze swept the room like a hawk.

“Who started this?” she demanded.

No one spoke. The entire room seemed to collectively decide that silence was their best option.

Mia leaned closer to us and whispered, “There’s no way they’ll ever figure it out.”

Jasmine smirked. “Yeah, good luck getting someone to confess.”

I let out a breath, relieved we had managed to stay out of it. As the staff started rounding up the main suspects—mostly the kids still wiping mashed potatoes off their faces—I caught sight of a few unlucky students being marched toward the principal’s office.

“Well, that was eventful,” I muttered, shaking my head.

Mia snorted. “Yeah, and I’m just glad none of us have to explain to our parents why we’re coming home covered in food.”

Jasmine grinned. “We survived the great cafeteria war of the year. I’d call that a success.”

As we picked at what was left of our lunches, carefully avoiding any mystery splatters on the table, I couldn’t help but laugh. It felt good to be back—not just at school, but here, with my friends, finding moments of humor even in the middle of complete chaos.

I walked into the gym, the familiar scent of rubbery floor mats and sweat lingering in the air. The sound of sneakers squeaking against the polished wood echoed through the large space, students chatting and stretching in small groups before class officially began.

Instead of heading toward the locker room, I made my way straight to the P.E. teacher, note in hand. They took one glance at it before nodding. “Alright, go ahead and sit out for today.”

With that settled, I turned and climbed up onto the bleachers, relieved that I wouldn’t have to run laps or get pelted by dodgeballs today. My energy was still low, my body weighed down with the last remnants of my illness. Sitting out felt like a blessing.

Jasmine and Mia waved at me from the floor, already stretching for whatever activity was planned. “Lucky,” Jasmine mouthed dramatically, pretending to wipe imaginary sweat from her brow.

I smirked and shrugged, hugging my sweatshirt tighter around me as I leaned back against the cool metal.

The teacher blew the whistle, gathering the class in the center of the gym, and I half-listened as they explained the activity. Dodgeball. Of course. The mere mention of it sent a murmur of anticipation through the class. Some students groaned in dread, while others grinned, already itching to start throwing rubber balls at each other like their lives depended on it.

As teams were chosen, Jasmine and Mia were split up, standing on opposite sides of the gym. Mia rolled her shoulders, cracking her knuckles like she was preparing for battle, while Jasmine bounced lightly on the balls of her feet, already smirking like she had the whole game figured out.

The first few minutes of the game started off normally enough—players lunging for the balls as soon as they were released, a few dramatic yelps from those who got hit early, and the usual competitive energy filling the space. I watched as Jasmine expertly dodged an incoming throw, ducking and weaving like she’d trained for this moment. Mia, on the other hand, was playing smart—waiting, analyzing, and striking with precision when the time was right.

Then, as expected, everything escalated.

One of the more competitive players launched a ball way too hard, sending it flying across the gym and slamming into the opposite wall with a loud THUD. The teacher blew the whistle, shouting a warning, but it was too late. The energy had shifted.

Within seconds, students weren’t just aiming at their targets anymore—they were seeking revenge. Dodging turned into diving, throwing turned into launching, and what was supposed to be a structured game of dodgeball rapidly descended into an all-out war.

From my spot on the bleachers, I watched the chaos unfold, eyebrows raised as students scrambled, shrieking and laughing, some rolling across the floor just to avoid getting hit. A few kids who had already been eliminated sat near me, shaking their heads at the carnage.

Jasmine, still in the game, was practically untouchable. Every time someone threw a ball her way, she’d twist at the last second, narrowly avoiding it. She laughed, taunting her opponents as she scooped up a ball and fired it back.

Mia, ever the strategist, was picking her targets carefully. She locked onto one of the more aggressive players and took them out with a perfectly aimed shot to the legs.

“Nice one!” someone cheered.

I shook my head, chuckling softly to myself. Gym class was ridiculous.

As the chaos continued, the gym buzzed with shouts, laughter, and the thud of dodgeballs hitting the floor—or their targets. I stayed perched on the bleachers, content to watch the spectacle unfold from a safe distance. My body still felt too heavy and sluggish to do much more than sit and let my gaze follow the action.

Jasmine was a blur of energy on the floor, ducking and twisting like she was in some high-stakes spy movie. Mia, ever the tactician, was waiting for just the right moment to strike, her eyes scanning the court with precision.

Then it happened. A ball zipped through the air, fast and deliberate, heading straight for me.

I barely had time to react. Instinctively, I flinched, throwing up my arms as the dodgeball smacked against the edge of the bleacher seat right next to me. The sound was sharp, and the impact sent it bouncing away with a hollow thwack. My heart leapt into my throat as the sudden movement jarred me out of my relaxed state.

The gym seemed to pause for a moment as heads turned toward me. My cheeks burned as I looked around, trying to make sense of what just happened. Then I saw him—Jake, one of Trevor’s friends, standing on the court with a smug grin plastered across his face. He was twirling another dodgeball in his hands, his posture casual but his eyes glinting with something more sinister.

“Whoops,” Jake called out, his voice carrying a mock apology that dripped with sarcasm. “Didn’t mean for that to happen.”

The teacher didn’t catch on, their focus elsewhere as they tried to herd the remaining players back into some semblance of order. But Jasmine did. Her expression darkened, her grin fading into a tight-lipped scowl as she stared Jake down.

“Really, Jake?” she snapped, loud enough for those nearby to hear. “You can’t even aim at someone on the court?”

Jake shrugged, his grin unfazed. “It’s dodgeball. Things happen.”

“Yeah,” Mia cut in, stepping closer to him. “And now you’re out.” Without hesitation, she hurled her ball with pinpoint accuracy, hitting Jake square in the chest. His cocky smirk disappeared as he stumbled back a step, scowling.

“That was unnecessary,” he muttered, but he didn’t push the issue, trudging off the court in defeat.

Jasmine jogged over to the sidelines, her expression softening as she reached me. “You okay?” she asked, concern replacing her earlier fire.

“Yeah,” I said, though my voice was shaky. “Just startled.”

“Jake’s a jerk,” Mia said, joining us with her arms crossed. “He’s lucky the teacher didn’t see that.”

“Don’t let him get to you,” Jasmine added, giving my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “You’re not even playing, and you’re still handling this better than he ever would.”

I nodded, a small smile creeping onto my face despite the lingering nerves. “Thanks.”

The whistle blew again, signaling the end of the game. As the players dispersed and the gym returned to its usual controlled chaos, I leaned back against the bleachers, grateful for the support of my friends. Jake might’ve tried to rattle me, but his attempt had fallen flat, thanks to Jasmine and Mia. And for the rest of the period, I watched the game with a little less tension and a little more confidence, knowing I wasn’t alone in facing the occasional stray dodgeball—or the people who threw them.