03.

"HE'S ONE OF YOUR STUDENTS?"

I laughed hollowly, nodding as Piper stared at me with wide eyes. She sputtered over her coffee, shaking her head in disbelief.

"Oh, my God! Tell me everything you know!"

I shrugged, poking at the scraps of my brunch with a fork. "There's not much to tell. We didn't really talk much."

"So, you did talk?"

"Not much," I said pointedly, shooting her a sharp look. She wasn't deterred. She gazed at me with large, curious eyes, and a grin split across her face.

"And?" Piper asked, motioning for me to continue.

"And nothing." I shrugged. "He's an average swimmer. His swimming trunks are blue. His towel's white." I hesitated. "His mother's named Anna."

"You met his mother?" Her voice lilted in disbelief and she slammed her coffee onto the saucer. I winced at the sound, nodding with an uneasy smile.

"Accidentally," I offered.

I tugged at my sleeve, glancing down at my untouched breakfast – strawberry pancakes and tea, because coffee set my nerves on end and unsettled my stomach. The pancakes were probably cold by now.

After running into Jace's mom, my stomach had been churning uncomfortably, but I knew Piper would be worried if I didn't order any food. So, I poked at a small slice of strawberry and shoved it into my mouth.

"Accidentally or not, you officially know more about him than anyone else at school," Piper said smartly. She shoved a piece of her almond croissant into her mouth before pointing her fork at me. "You've got to find out more, Jas. Everyone's wondering why he's got that limp."

She swallowed and I shrugged, taking an uncomfortable sip of my tea. "I don't know. It's not really any of our business is it?"

Because I knew what it felt like to limp around school and have everyone stare at you. I knew what it was like when the town discovered your dirty little secret, and whispered it every time you passed, and jabbed each other in the ribs, harshly muttering don't stare, as if that made it any better.

The only thing worse than standing out, was standing out with everyone knowing exactly why you did.

I blinked down at my cold pile of pancakes and it seemed as if in just that blink of an eye, I was trapped. Trapped under hot steel and broken glass. The bones in my leg shattering, and my skin bleeding and burning – burning so badly, like I was on fire.

Under the table, I gripped the edge of the seat, trying to ground myself – bring myself back to the present. The present where there was no blood, no screams, no shattered windshields, no Amber.

I was safe. I was okay. I was alive.

"You're right," Piper said after a moment. I looked up to meet her brown eyes, the usual pity flashing through them. I swallowed thickly, praying my flashback hadn't shown on my face. Her brow wrinkled in worry and she took a sip of her coffee before saying, "Sorry, Jas. I wasn't thinking. It's none of our business."

"It's fine," I said quickly, trying to move the conversation along. Trying to smooth out that wrinkle of worry on her face and that dark look in her eyes.

I scratched at my ankle, suddenly throbbing from the conversation. It felt like I'd torn all the tendons in it one by one, all over again in just that blink of an eye. I flexed it carefully, testing the muscles in my leg – still weak, a year later.

Still weak, after months of physiotherapy and training and exercise and practice, because no one would shut up about how it'd get better with practice, even though it never did. No one ever shut up about how it'll get better. You will get better. Even though it just made it hurt more.

Even if I didn't feel like getting better.

My chest ached and my stomach flipped, and I shoved my plate away, suddenly feeling nauseous. The red strawberries spilling over the pancakes looked too red – too much like blood.

I wasn't hungry.

"Are you alright, Jasmine?"

It was Piper's voice. I knew it was. But in that moment, it sounded so much like Amber's and something in me snapped.

I staggered to my feet, nodding vehemently.

"I'm fine," I said, because that's what she wanted to hear. I forced a smile onto my face and nodded again. "I'm fine, I'm just feeling a little sick."

As soon as the words left my mouth, I knew they were the wrong choice. Piper's eyes widened a fraction and I saw the worry rip through them. I saw her hand inch towards her pocket, grasping blindly for her phone.

There was no recovering from this.

My mind was whirring. Piper's brown eyes looked like Amber's in that moment. I opened my mouth, her name on my lips, but I caught myself before I could say something stupid.

"I think I ate something bad before work," I said instead, keeping my voice steady. I shrugged, letting a giggle tumble over my lips. "It was a muffin I bought last week. I knew I should've just thrown it away."

"You're always trying to save things, Jasmine," Piper played along, though her brow still creased, and the smile didn't reach her eyes. "Will you be okay going home?"

"Of course," I said, nodding.

She stood then, smiling unsurely, and pulled me into a tight hug, wrapping her arms around my neck. I squeezed her back, her long, straight hair tickling my nose, before pulling back. I mustered up the most reassuring grin possible.

"I love you, you know," she said carefully.

"I love you too."

"Get well soon." I knew she wasn't talking about the non-existent muffin. I nodded.

"I'll see you at school on Monday," I said slowly, making sure she heard my words. Making sure she knew I had every intention of seeing her after the weekend.

She nodded. "I'll see you, Jas. Get home safe."

With one last cheek-aching grin, I turned and left the café, grabbing my bike and bee lining for home.

My entire body ached. Not only had work been more tiring that usual, with my ankle throbbing and my mind racing at top speed but talking to Jace's mother and then Piper had taken the last bit of fight out of me.

And now I couldn't wipe the image of my twisted leg from my mind, of broken glass sticking to my hair and my eyelashes and my lips. Of Amber beside me. Of Amber not moving.

Within minutes, my house came into view. A small house painted white with a matching picket fence and perfectly maintained garden. Perfect on the outside, because that was how my mother liked it.

I tossed my bike to the side of the porch, fishing for my keys in my pocket before unlocking the front door and marching inside.

I kicked my shoes off by the front door, planning to shoot directly up the stairs and spend the rest of the weekend in bed, when my mother's voice interrupted me.

"Jasmine?" she called from the kitchen. "Habibti, is that you?"

I sighed, knowing I wouldn't be able to get passed this. So, I shuffled into the kitchen, offering her a sheepish smile.

She stood behind the counter, wiping it down with a cloth. She looked up as I entered, her brown eyes a reflection of my own.

I'd inherited most of her looks – her pointed nose, deep olive skin and thick eyebrows – but unlike my loose brown curls, she had tight black curls which, today, were pulled into a short ponytail.

"Jas, baby, why are you home so early? I thought you were going out to brunch," she said. She paused, lifting a brow at me in the way she did when she knew something she shouldn't. "Is everything okay?"

I glanced at the counter, spotting her phone sitting unlocked on the edge.

Of course. I'd gone and done it now. I'd made Piper worry about me at brunch. I'd told her I felt sick, I'd defended Jace, I'd left in a hurry, and so she'd texted my mother all about it.

So, I sucked in a deep breath and stepped closer, offering my mother a gentle smile. I placed my hands onto the counter, drawing her attention to my fingers – a rehearsed movement – steady and definitely not trembling. Not tapping uneasily. Not tugging at my sleeve.

Because every tiny thing I ever did was scrutinised and noticed and used as an excuse to lock me up.

"I'm fine, mom," I said slowly, making sure each word sounded perky and pronounced. "You know I'd tell you if anything was wrong."

"Of course," she said. She reached forward to pat my hand, her skin damp and cold to touch. "I know you would. But you can't blame me for being worried about my little baby, can you?"

"Of course not," I smiled. I took a cautious step back, wondering if I could make a break for my room, but I stepped on my ankle wrong and winced. My mom's eyes widened, and she stepped around the counter, eyeing my leg.

"How's the ankle?" she asked, as if she could sense it was the one question I didn't want to be asked.

"Fine," I said, shrugging nonchalantly. "It gets tender when it's humid out, but I'm used to it."

"Have you been exercising it?"

"Of course," I said, and it was true. I did all the exercises my doctor had told me, but it didn't help. Nothing ever did. It was hopeless. But I sent my mom a reassuring smile, flexing my ankle painfully. "See? Perfectly fine."

"Okay," she said, though it most certainly wasn't okay to her. Her face marred with worry, wrinkles appearing over her forehead and between her brows. "Listen, Jasmine. I was thinking... maybe it's time to go back to therapy."

"No," I said quickly. "Mom, no. I'm completely fine."

"Baby, I know you still get those nightmares."

I mentally cursed myself. I knew I'd been screaming in my sleep.

Normally I was able to muffle them with my pillow or wake up tasting blood, my tongue taken between my teeth to silence the screams. But lately, my mind was filled with school and work and my ankle that wouldn't stop fucking hurting, and I'd gotten sloppy.

It was only a matter of time until my mom noticed.

"They're not of the accident, I swear," I lied through my teeth. Guilt flooded me. It was a little white lie. Just to stop her from worrying. Just to calm her nerves. It was fine, right?

She hummed unsurely, her lips pursing. "I don't know, Jasmine. Dr Imogen is still available. I could give her a call."

Not Dr Imogen.

"Please, Mom," I said, stepping forward and taking her hand into mine. Her skin was icy against my burning hands, and I massaged the knotted bones in them. "I'm fine. Promise."

Anything was better than seeing Dr Imogen again. I'd seen her for two months after the accident, until I'd perfected my smile. Perfected my answers to her nonstop questions. And my mom pulled me out, because I was perfect on the outside, just how she liked me.

Even if I had constant nightmares. Even if I couldn't stop seeing Amber when I closed my eyes and couldn't stop feeling that persistent ache in my ankle and couldn't stop crying myself to sleep every single night for no reason.

Tears for the sake of crying. Tears that would fall with no notice because I wasn't sad. Not really. The sadness came and went, often replaced by an aching emptiness – a lack of emotions that seemed to hollow my chest out where my heart should be.

Some days were better than others, but lately, most days felt empty. They blended together.

And I would put up with it, because Dr Imogen was the worst, and I wouldn't see her again.

All I had to do was convince my mom – show her what she wanted to see.

"There's a new boy at school," I said quickly.

My mom met my eye, her brow lifting curiously. "Oh? What's his name?"

"Jace," I managed, my face warming in embarrassment. I had to give her a scapegoat. An excuse for my unusual behaviour. "He transferred in yesterday. I was just thinking about him."

"Oh, baby," she said. A grin split across her face and she reached up to pinch my cheek. "You should speak to him."

The room's atmosphere transformed immediately. I could feel my mother's relief. A normal teenager had crushes. I was better. I was normal.

"I will," I said, determined to exit this conversation as soon as possible. "I'm just going to go work on some homework. I'll see you later."

She nodded, pressing a kiss to my cheek before pulling back and scanning my face. "My baby. I love you, remember that always. Okay?"

"Of course, Mom," I smiled back.

She released me then, patting my butt as I passed her. I laughed, shooting her a cheeky smile before turning the corner and walking up the steps to my room – two at a time.

Instantly, my smile fell from my lips, my cheeks aching from holding it for so long. My head was spinning now, my ankle throbbing uncomfortably.

I stumbled into my room, shutting the door and blinds to bathe it in darkness before leaping onto my bed where I'd spend the rest of my weekend. I lied bundled in blankets, tugging them tightly around myself, covering my face with them until it was difficult to breathe.

My eyes stung and from the salty taste in my mouth, I knew I was crying. Crying for the sake of crying.

I could still see her face. Hear her voice.

Am I dying?

My fingers tightened around my sheets and my lips parted then, cracked and stinging from salty tears that trailed into my mouth. I glared into the darkness, my entire body feeling empty, like I was floating and sinking all at once.

I breathed out until all the air had left my lungs and my chest felt heavy, as if there was no oxygen to pull back in.

And on that breath, I released her name into the darkness. A silent promise between me and the silence that followed.

We'll be okay.

"Amber."

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AUTHOR'S NOTE

So things are starting to pick up a lil... Next time: we learn a little more about Jace 👀 any guesses? Let me know your thoughts so far! Where do you think his limp is from??

Thank you so much for 2k reads! You guys are amazing, I can't believe it. It's like an early Christmas present 🥺 Thank you for reading, commenting and voting! See you next time! 🖤