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It was the last day of school.
Finally.
And I felt like I could breathe again.

No more rushed mornings.
No more hiding in bathroom stalls.
No more hallway whispers or Trevor's constant nonsense.

Just... peace.

I sat at my desk, half-listening while the teacher handed out yearbooks and tried to keep some order in the chaos. Everyone was already halfway checked out—laughing, tossing markers across the room, begging each other to sign the back cover with inside jokes or terrible doodles.

The windows were open, and the warm breeze carried in the smell of fresh-cut grass and something that almost felt like freedom.
Summer.

For once, it actually felt... normal.

And after everything I'd been through, normal felt like a miracle.

I glanced around the room, taking it all in.
The desks. The walls. The people.

So much had changed.
I had changed.

I wasn't the same Emily I was at the start of the year.

Back then, I was still trying to figure out who I was. Still scared of being seen. Still trying to shrink myself so I wouldn't take up too much space.

But now?

I wasn't hiding anymore.
At least... not completely.

I still had fears.
Still had hard days.
But I was learning to stand up. To speak. To exist without apology.

And Trevor?

Gone.

He hadn't shown up in two weeks. After what happened in the hallway, he just... vanished.

Some people said he got suspended. Others said his parents pulled him out. The rumors didn't really matter. All I knew was—

I hadn't seen his face since that day.
And honestly?

Good riddance.

I flipped through the glossy pages, my fingers trailing over the edge of a photo of me, Jasmine, and Mia—our arms wrapped tight around each other, all smiles and sunshine like we didn't have a care in the world.
That picture had to be from before everything fell apart.
Before I did.

Then I turned the page and froze.

There it was.
A photo of Mia, Lexi, and... Tasha.

They were standing in front of the lockers, all striking a pose like they thought they were in a fashion magazine. Lexi had her trademark side smirk, Mia looked like she was trying too hard to smile, and Tasha—Tasha looked like she owned the whole school.

It had to be from months ago, back when they were still friends.
Before Mia walked away.
Before everything got scary.

But what really got me wasn't just who was in the photo.

It was who wasn't anywhere else.

No solo picture of Tasha.
No candid shots.
No club photos.
And absolutely no sign of Zoe.
Not a single mention. Not even a name tucked in the class listings.

It was like the school had scrubbed them out completely. Like they never existed.

Except... that one photo.
Still tucked between the pages like a ghost that refused to disappear.

I stared at it for a second too long before snapping the book shut.
Maybe the editors missed it.
Or maybe they just didn't care.

Either way, it gave me chills.

I flipped a few more pages, trying to shake it off. The candid section helped—dozens of blurry snapshots and goofy smiles, half of them with food in people's mouths or someone blinking like they were mid-sneeze.

And that's when I saw it.

Full-page.
Center spread.
Trevor.

Caught mid-fall, arms flailing, mouth wide open, an explosion of mashed potatoes and mystery meat frozen in mid-air like he'd been hit by a food truck made of cafeteria trays.

I snorted so hard I nearly dropped the yearbook.
"Oh my God," I wheezed. "It's here. They actually put it in."

Jasmine leaned over and immediately lost it. "NO WAY. That's iconic."

Mia leaned across the table, took one look, and doubled over. "I'm framing this. I'm literally going to get it printed and hang it in my room."

We laughed until our sides hurt, until my eyes watered from something that wasn't sadness for once.

The bell rang—loud and final.
The last bell of the year.

Our class erupted in cheers, chairs scraping back, people shouting and throwing paper in the air like a movie ending.

"Alright, calm down," Mr. Dawson said, not even bothering to stand up from his desk. "Grab your stuff, clean out your lockers, and please, for the love of everything holy, don't leave trash behind."

Easier said than done.

But for once, the mess didn't feel heavy.

Not today.

The hallways were a zoo. Kids were hauling bags, tossing old notebooks into recycling bins, slamming locker doors, and high-fiving like we'd all just survived a zombie apocalypse.

Jasmine and Mia were already at their lockers when I caught up.

"You guys ready for summer?" Jasmine asked, chucking a crumpled math packet into the bin like it had personally ruined her year.

"Mentally, yes. Physically, I might need help dragging all these textbooks home," Mia groaned, half inside her locker as she tried to wrestle a stuck binder free.

I laughed and opened mine. A few old papers, a snack wrapper, and a faded sticky note from Lily that said YOU GOT THIS in sparkly pink gel pen were all that remained. I kept the note.

Then—
Down the hall, a sudden chorus of gasps and "Ewwwws" erupted, followed by the unmistakable groan of someone realizing a terrible mistake.

Jasmine stiffened. "What now?"

We peeked down the hallway and saw it.

Trevor.

Standing in front of his open locker, holding up what looked like a lunch container. Only it was... swollen. Warped. Oozing something green from one corner. A living relic of bad decisions.

He didn't even try to hide the horror. He held it out like it might bite him.

"This... was a sandwich!" he announced loudly to anyone who would listen.

A girl nearby nearly dry-heaved. "Is it... breathing?"

Jasmine gagged so hard she had to lean against the lockers. "I'm gonna need therapy after this."

Mia fanned the air. "It smells like regret and expired yogurt. Oh my GOD."

Trevor, putting on his usual dramatic flair, gestured like a professor presenting a specimen. "This is what happens when you forget your lunch after Halloween break. And folks, I'm proud to say—this is now technically its own species."

Someone across the hall muttered, "Call the CDC."

Trevor made a mock salute and—without hesitation—hurled the container into the trash with a wet splat that echoed off the walls like something out of a horror movie.

Gasps turned to relieved groans. A few kids even clapped.

"Pretty sure that sandwich ended several life cycles," Jasmine mumbled, still clutching her nose.

Mia shuddered. "I think it blinked."

Trevor shut his locker like he was sealing a crypt, then strutted away like he'd just survived a major war zone.

We didn't say anything to him. None of us ever did anymore. Not since everything happened. He was just... background noise now. Loud. Gross. But fading.

And just like that, the last of the chaos started winding down.

Lockers: emptied. Books: returned. Mold-monsters: defeated.

With everything cleared out and the air (mostly) breathable again, the three of us wandered out into the warm afternoon sun, our bags slung over our shoulders.

And this time, when we laughed—it wasn't nervous or fake.

It was real.
And it felt like summer had finally started.

The ride home was mostly quiet.

Well... except for Lily.

She was in the back seat, practically vibrating in her seat. "School's OUT! I swear if I had to hear one more word about geometry, I was gonna turn into a triangle and disappear."

Mom chuckled from the driver's seat. "You'll be bored by next week."

"Nope," Lily said. "My brain is summer-wiped. I've downgraded to pool floatie-level intelligence."

I sat up front, head leaning against the window, the breeze brushing my face. But it didn't do much to calm the storm inside my chest.

Sam was in the backseat too—earbuds in, staring out his own window like he was in some music video about emotional repression.

I didn't blame him.

This year had ended with more weight than any of us expected. And no amount of class parties or yearbook signatures could erase it.

Mom reached over and gently squeezed my hand on the console. She didn't say anything.

She didn't have to.

It was her way of saying, I see you. I'm here.

I squeezed her hand back.

Lily, of course, was still going.

"Can we go to the lake this weekend? Ooh, and pack sandwiches? Not those weird ones with sprouts. Like, normal sandwiches. And slushies. We need slushies."

Mom gave a half-laugh. "We'll see."

I tuned them out a little, letting their voices become soft background noise. My thoughts drifted.

To the baby.

To next year.

To the version of myself I didn't fully recognize yet—but maybe was starting to accept.

"WHAT ABOUT VALLEYFAIR?!" Lily shrieked, snapping me out of it.

I blinked. "Valley... what?"

"Valleyfair! It's like THE theme park. Rides, roller coasters, water park, everything!"

Mom smirked. "I had a feeling this was coming."

Lily leaned between the front seats like a puppy begging for treats. "Please?! I've been asking since last summer! I'll even finish my summer reading list!"

Mom hummed. "We'll plan something. It's not exactly a quick drive."

Lily fist-pumped. "YES."

I raised an eyebrow. "I've never been to a theme park."

Lily gasped like I told her I hated puppies. "Wait. WHAT."

"Seriously," I shrugged. "Never went. Not even Disney or Universal Studios when I lived down in Georgia."

She clutched her chest dramatically. "Emily. This is a tragedy. We're fixing this immediately."

Mom snorted. "Nobody's sneaking anywhere. But yes, we'll make it happen."

Lily grinned. "Good. Because pregnant or not, you're going to Valleyfair. Even if we roll you through the lazy river like royalty."

"And we're getting funnel cake," I added.

"Absolutely," Lily said. "We are treating ourselves."

I turned back to the window, still smiling.

Everything had changed.

But maybe—just maybe—I could still have a summer worth remembering.

And maybe this was the beginning of something good.

I thought we were heading home, but instead... mom turned a different direction..

Lily noticed first. "Uh... Mom? Did you miss the turn?"

Mom just smiled. "Nope."

I narrowed my eyes. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see."

Lily sat forward again, practically vibrating in her seat. "Wait—is this a surprise? Is this a last day of school surprise?"

Mom shrugged, her grin growing. "Maybe."

Lily gasped. "Is it ice cream?!"

Mom shook her head.

"Mini golf?!"

Another shake.

"Go-karts??"

I laughed. "Calm down, Lily. You're gonna run out of guesses."

We pulled off the highway a few minutes later and turned into the parking lot of a bright, colorful building with giant cartoon characters painted on the windows.

The sign above the door read:
The Gravy Train Family Diner
Where everything's covered in fun (and gravy!)

There was a huge red train car built into the side of the restaurant, and through the window, we could see booths shaped like train compartments and a play area with a huge indoor slide.

Lily squealed. "NO WAY."

Even Sam looked up from his phone, his eyebrows raised.

Mom parked the car and turned to us. "Your dad's already inside getting the table. He called ahead and said they just launched their 'School's Out' special—free dessert with every kid's meal."

I blinked. "You planned this?"

"Of course," Mom said, her voice warm. "You all made it through a really big year. I figured we could celebrate—together."

Lily threw open the door before the car was even fully off. "BEST. DAY. EVER."

I followed her, smiling despite myself.

Inside, the air smelled like fresh fries, gravy, and cinnamon rolls, and the walls were decorated with vintage train posters and toy models that zoomed around overhead tracks. A waitress in a conductor's hat waved us toward a booth shaped like a dining car.

And there was Dad, already sitting with a menu and two milkshakes on the table.

"Surprise," he said with a wink. "I hear someone people finished fourth, fifth and eighth grade."

I slid into the booth next to him, my heart full.

For just a moment, everything felt okay.

Inside, the smell of fries, sizzling burgers, and cinnamon-sugar filled the air like a delicious welcome mat. Bright lights twinkled overhead as a model train circled the ceiling on a tiny track, occasionally letting out a cheerful little whistle.

The walls were covered in train memorabilia, with booths shaped like old-fashioned dining cars, and the occasional choo-choo sound came from hidden speakers. Kids ran around a small indoor play area designed like a miniature rail yard with slides and tunnels.

Lily was practically skipping. "I want to live here!"

We were led to a booth that looked like the inside of a red caboose, complete with little velvet curtains on the windows and a conductor bell at the edge of the table—yes, a bell. Which Lily immediately rang.

Ding ding!

"Please don't abuse that," Dad said, holding back a laugh as he set down his menu.

Sam was already scanning his, but I could tell even he was impressed. The menu was absurd in the best way.

"Little Engineers' Menu" had things like:

Conductor's Chicken Tenders

Trackside Mac & Cheese

The Caboose Quesadilla

Whistle-Stop Waffles
And the dessert section?
"Final Stop: Sugar Station" included:

Brownie Steam Stack

Gravy Train Ice Cream Sundae (no gravy, thankfully)

Engine-Exploding Churros

"I want the churros," Lily announced. "They come with edible glitter. Like—actual glitter."

"Why does everything here sound like it could either be amazing or cause a sugar coma?" I asked, trying not to drool at the brownie stack.

"Both," Sam muttered. "Definitely both."

When the waiter came around—a teenage guy in a striped engineer shirt and a name tag that said 'TRACKMASTER TYLER'—he greeted us with a grin. "First-time passengers?"

Mom smiled. "It is. We're celebrating the last day of school."

"Well, you picked the right train," Tyler said, pulling a notepad from his pocket. "Drinks?"

"Milkshake," Sam said immediately. "Cookies and cream."

"Root beer float for me," Lily chimed in.

I ordered water, even though I secretly wanted one of the glitter milkshakes Lily was eyeing. I glanced at Mom, and she must've seen it on my face.

"You can treat yourself, you know," she said gently. "You're allowed."

"...Okay. One glitter milkshake," I said, smiling softly.

"Now we're talkin'," Tyler nodded.

As we waited for our food, we talked about everything and nothing.

Lily went on about her plan to conquer the water slides at Valleyfair.

Sam, to everyone's surprise, actually joined the conversation, sharing a ridiculous story about his science teacher trying to use a leaf blower for a physics demo—and accidentally launching papers across the hallway.

"Mr. Jennings looked like he'd just seen the gates of hell," Sam said with a rare grin.

We all burst out laughing, even Mom.

It felt... normal.

Not like the world was falling apart. Not like I had a million worries waiting for me when we left. Just... family.

Our food came out on silly train-shaped trays, complete with tiny crossing signs as plate markers.

Lily immediately devoured her glitter churros like they were laced with magic.

And when the desserts arrived, Dad got the Gravy Train Ice Cream Sundae and made a big show of offering me the first bite.

"I insist," he said in a mock-posh voice.

I rolled my eyes, but I took the bite. And yeah—totally worth it.

For the first time, I wasn't thinking about being pregnant, or Trevor, or the whispers at school, or what came next.

I was just Emily.

Sitting in a booth shaped like a train.

Laughing with the people who had become my entire world.

And even with all the heaviness I carried... I felt light again.