Keeping It Fluid -11

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The hallways felt too loud, too bright, too normal.

It was like nothing had changed, like everyone else was living their lives while mine was falling apart in the background.

Locker doors clanged. Voices rose and fell in conversations I couldn't focus on. The scent of the cafeteria's early morning breakfast lingered in the air, mixing with the faint staleness of old textbooks and too many people packed in one building.

I walked with my hood up, my bag slung over my shoulder, my hands deep in my pockets. My new phone was in there too, feeling wrong, unfamiliar, like a constant reminder that I was losing parts of myself.

I still hadn't memorized the new number.

And I hated that.

"Emily!"

Jasmine's voice cut through the morning hum, and I barely had time to brace myself before she latched onto my arm, tugging me toward the lockers where Mia was already waiting.

"You weren't answering texts last night," she said, her dark eyes scanning my face like she was searching for a problem. "And Mia said you didn't answer her either. Where have you been?"

I opened my mouth, then shut it.

Mia frowned, adjusting her glasses as she studied me. "You look tired."

I sighed. "I am."

Jasmine narrowed her eyes. "Emily."

I glanced at the floor, swallowing hard. I didn't want to tell them.

Because telling them meant saying it out loud.

And saying it out loud meant it was real.

But Jasmine wasn't about to let it go, and Mia was giving me that look—the one that told me they already knew something was wrong.

So, I exhaled and said it fast, like ripping off a bandage.

"The police got involved. We went to the station. Tasha played innocent and erased everything before they even questioned her." I hesitated, then added in a quieter voice, "And... we changed my number."

Both of their eyes widened.

Jasmine's grip on my arm tightened. "Wait. What?"

Mia's expression flickered, her brows furrowing. "You changed your number? Why?"

I swallowed, shifting uncomfortably. "Because she kept texting me. Every time I blocked the number, a new one popped up. It wouldn't stop."

Jasmine let go of my arm like she had been burned. "Oh my God."

Mia looked sick. "Emily, why didn't you tell us sooner?"

I shrugged, kicking the toe of my shoe against the floor. "I didn't know how."

Jasmine took a step back, running a hand through her curls, looking like she wanted to punch something. "Okay, but—changing your number? That's, like, serious."

I laughed, but it came out brittle. "Yeah. It is."

Mia tilted her head slightly. "How do you feel about it?"

I hesitated.

How did I feel?

Like I was losing pieces of myself.

Like Tasha was ripping apart my life one thread at a time, and no one could stop her.

Like every time I tried to move forward, she was already waiting for me at the next corner.

But I couldn't say that.

So instead, I just shrugged.

"I don't know."

Jasmine didn't buy it. "Emily—"

The warning bell rang, cutting her off.

She groaned, looking between me and Mia, like she was debating whether or not to ditch class to keep talking about this.

Mia touched her arm. "Later."

Jasmine exhaled sharply. "Yeah. Later."

I gave them both a small, weak smile before turning toward my first class, pulling my hood up a little further, trying to shrink into myself.

But as I walked away, the sinking feeling didn't leave.

Because even though I had told them the truth, it didn't change the fact that I was still terrified of what would come next.

The smell of greasy, cheesy goodness filled the cafeteria as I grabbed my tray.

A slice of rectangle pizza sat in the middle, the kind that always had too much sauce, barely melted cheese, and crust that was either rock hard or weirdly soft.

It was exactly like the ones I used to get back in elementary school.

I stared at it for a second, and just like that—memories came flooding back.

Like the time it was raining so hard that the school lost power, and we all got sent home early. We sat in the classroom, eating our pizza in near darkness, giggling over the way our teacher's flashlight made shadows dance on the wall.

Or the time Abby bit her tongue from eating too fast. She had been so excited about pizza day that she practically inhaled it—and then spent the next five minutes dramatically whining about how much it hurt.

I smiled a little at the memory.

I missed Abby.

And then, like a switch flipping in my head, my stomach dropped.

She had my old number.

She didn't even know it was changed.

I bit my lip, my chest tightening. It was just one more thing I had lost.

Taking a deep breath, I made my way to the table where Jasmine and Mia were already sitting.

Jasmine was in the middle of a rant about math homework, aggressively stabbing her fork into a sad-looking pile of green beans. Mia, as usual, listened patiently, nodding every now and then as she took small bites of her food.

I sat down, setting my tray in front of me.

Jasmine paused mid-rant, noticing the look on my face. "You okay?"

I hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah. Just... remembering things."

Mia raised an eyebrow. "Good things?"

I glanced at the pizza again, feeling the faintest tug of a genuine smile. "Yeah. Just little things from when I was younger."

Jasmine smirked. "Like what?"

I picked up my pizza and shrugged. "Like the time Abby bit her tongue from eating too fast."

Jasmine snorted. "Sounds like something she'd do."

Mia tilted her head. "You still talk to her much?"

My stomach twisted again. "I... I need to give her my new number."

Jasmine and Mia both froze, their smiles fading.

It was like I had just reminded them why I even had to change my number in the first place.

Mia was the first to speak, her voice softer now. "You should text her soon. Before she tries to reach you and thinks you're ignoring her."

I nodded. "Yeah."

Jasmine sighed, rubbing the back of her head. "This whole thing still sucks."

I let out a short, dry laugh. "Yeah. It really does."

For a few moments, none of us spoke. We just sat there, the usual cafeteria chaos swirling around us.

Then I reached into my pocket, pulling out my phone. "Speaking of... let me give you guys my new number."

Jasmine immediately perked up. "Oh, yeah! Duh, I need that."

Mia pulled out her phone as well. "Go ahead."

"612-073-5701" I whispered.

As I gave my new number, I watched as they typed it in, feeling a strange mix of emotions.

Like I was starting over.

Like I was trying to hold onto the past while being forced into something new.

Like I was rewriting the pieces of my life that had been erased.

Jasmine sent me a quick text, her usual array of emojis flooding my screen.

Mia's was more simple.

Mia: Got it. You're not getting rid of us that easily.

I stared at the message for a second before looking up at them.

And for the first time all day, I felt just a little bit lighter.

Later that afternoon, when I finally got home, I collapsed onto my bed with a heavy sigh. The room was dim, the only light coming from the soft glow of my phone screen. Every time I looked at it, I felt the sting of losing my old number—a number that held memories of my childhood in Georgia, of days when everything seemed simpler.

I pulled my blanket around me and opened the messaging app. My thumb hovered over the contact labeled "Abby" for what felt like an eternity. I missed her. I missed the comfort of a friend who understood without judgment.

My heart pounded as I typed out a message, knowing that this small act was a step toward reclaiming something I feared was slipping away.

**ME: Hey Abby, it's Emily. I got a new number.**

I paused, my finger hovering over the send button. Then I tapped it.

Seconds later, my phone buzzed again.

**ABBY: Wow, new number? Didn't think you'd change. How are you, Emily?**

A warmth flickered inside me as I read her message—a real, human connection. I typed quickly.

**ME: I'm okay... I mean, I'm trying to be. It's been a rough day.**

I stared at the screen, waiting for her reply, the silence stretching longer than it ever had before. Finally, her next message appeared.

**ABBY: I'm sorry you're going through that. Remember, I'm always here. Just... text me when you're ready to talk, okay?**

Her words were simple, but they felt like a lifeline. I glanced around my room, feeling both isolated and, oddly, a bit less alone. This new number was a reminder that while parts of my past were being erased, some connections could still be salvaged.

I typed back slowly, almost hesitantly.

**ME: I miss you, Abby. I miss us. I... I had to change my number. Everything's different now.**

Her reply came quickly.

**ABBY: I miss you too, Em. And I promise, no matter what number you have, I'll always know how to reach you. Don't let anyone make you feel small.**

I stared at the message for a long moment, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. Her words felt like a warm embrace—one that I desperately needed.

In that quiet moment, lying alone on my bed, I felt a tiny spark of hope. Maybe I was losing pieces of my past, but I was also building something new.

I pressed send on one final message, a small smile creeping across my face despite everything.

**ME: Thank you, Abby. I'll text you soon.**

And as I set my phone down, I knew that even in the midst of the chaos and fear, there was still a part of me that could reach out and connect—a part that could fight back against the darkness, one message at a time.

I wiped my eyes quickly before tossing my phone onto my bed, forcing myself to shake off the heavy emotions swirling in my chest. Abby's message had helped—more than I could admit—but it didn't erase the fear still crawling under my skin.

The smell of dinner drifted up from the kitchen, pulling me out of my thoughts. My stomach twisted, reminding me that I hadn't eaten much at lunch. With a deep breath, I pushed myself up and headed downstairs.

Lily and Sam were already at the table, their plates full, the hum of conversation mixing with the clinking of silverware. The table was warm and familiar, the kind of setting that should have made me feel safe.

I hesitated in the doorway for a second, just watching them.

Lily was rambling about something—her words tumbling out too fast, too excited—while Sam chewed his food with the patience of someone who was used to her energy.

Mom and Dad were busy at the stove, putting the last of the food onto plates. The house smelled like garlic, melted cheese, and something rich and comforting.

Spaghetti.

I swallowed, my chest tightening just slightly. Another reminder of something I had lost—this time, because of my own mind.

The spaghetti at school had reminded me of guts, of my own fear, of how easily I could picture myself falling apart if Tasha ever got her way.

But this wasn't school.

This was home.

I had to remind myself of that.

I finally stepped forward and pulled out my chair. Lily immediately noticed.

"Emily!" she chirped, beaming at me like I had been gone for days. "Guess what?"

I raised an eyebrow, sitting down. "What?"

She held up her fork dramatically. "I won the great breadstick battle."

I blinked. "The... what?"

Sam sighed, clearly over it. "She and Mom both wanted the last breadstick, and it turned into a full-on standoff."

Lily grinned victoriously. "Mom said we had to split it, but I distracted her with a story and took it when she wasn't looking!"

Mom, who had just sat down, gave her a flat look. "I let you have it because I felt bad for you."

Lily ignored her. "Victory is victory."

Dad chuckled, shaking his head. "Alright, enough talk about food wars. Let's eat before everything gets cold."

I picked up my fork and twirled some spaghetti onto it, hesitating for just a second before taking a bite.

It tasted like home.

Warm, familiar, home.

Lily kept talking through dinner, telling some long-winded story about a playground conspiracy theory at school. Something about how there were secret tunnels under the jungle gym, and the kindergarteners had formed a secret society.

Sam muttered, "You do realize they're just kids, right?"

Lily waved him off. "That's what they want you to think."

I laughing.

The tension in my chest didn't disappear completely—but it loosened, just a little. Enough to remind me that no matter how much Tasha wanted to tear my life apart, I still had this.

I still had them.

And that?

That was something she could never take away.