Strings of Fate: The First Loop

CHAPTER 19

I laughed gently. “Oh, I’m sorry, Dad. I was just tired last night.”

Lie.

He looked at my wrist. At the absence of the bracelet. “You’re not wearing—?”

I shrugged, turning to grab my bag. “It’s probably in my suitcase,” I said quickly. Lie number two. He didn’t push it.

He just came closer and tapped my shoulder. “Come on. I’ll drive you.”

I turned and flashed him the brightest smile I had. “Thanks, Dad. You’re the best.”

He smiled back, a little relieved. I looked fine. I sounded fine.

So I must be fine, right?

Right?

We walked to the car.

I spotted Inez by the front gate, her fingers intertwined with Tim’s. Her laughter echoed in the air, loud and effortless, and for a second I just stood there watching her—like something about her light reminded me I was once capable of it too.

Then I walked up fast, skipping a step.

“Excuse me, loverboy,” I grinned, grabbing Inez’s arm and pulling it around mine. “I’m gonna borrow my best friend for a bit.”

Tim raised a brow, half-smiling. “Uh-oh. Should I be worried?”

“Only if she tries to keep me forever,” I winked.

Inez tilted her head and looked at me. Her brow furrowed, just barely. “You seem…”

“What?” I asked, still grinning.

She blinked, shook her head. “Nothing.”

We walked down the hallway together, arms tangled. I clung to her a little tighter than usual, like maybe she’d keep me anchored if the floor disappeared. I talked. A lot. About everything and nothing. The song stuck in my head. The vending machine being out of iced coffee again. That girl in chem class who never wears socks. The meme I saw that almost made me laugh out loud—almost.

Inez stayed quiet for most of it, nodding along, lips pursed.

“What’s with the silence?” I teased. “Is Tim rubbing off on you? Next thing I know you’ll be brooding in corners.”

She cracked a half-smile. “You’re really chipper today.”

“I’m always chipper,” I shot back, bumping her with my shoulder. “That’s my brand.”

She stopped walking for a second. Just one beat.

I paused too. “What?”

“Nothing,” she mumbled again.

I kept walking, tugging her with me toward Room 109. “Come on, we’re gonna be late.”

Inside, I kept talking—about how I hated the new seating chart, how Mr. Oxford probably had it out for me, how I was this close to committing arson if the school didn’t fix the busted AC soon. Inez just followed, nodding, her face unreadable.

And for once, I didn’t ask her why.

Because I already knew.

Because if she asked me how I really was, I’d start bleeding all over the linoleum.

Class droned on, but I surprised myself by raising my hand—twice. I actually answered a question about the symbolism in Of Mice and Men. Mr. Oxford looked mildly stunned, like he was unsure whether to praise me or call a priest.

I laughed. Loud enough for a few heads to turn.

“Betty?” he blinked.

“Sorry, sir. Just remembered something funny,” I chirped. “Please continue.”

By the second subject, I was flipping through my notes like I had my life together. I asked if we could go over the last quiz. I smiled at Corey’s joke. I complimented Inez’s earrings. I copied the board neatly and underlined my titles in pink.

Everything about me screamed stable.

And Inez kept watching. Not just watching—studying me. Quietly.

When the teacher turned his back, Matt leaned toward her, whispering something under his breath.

I didn’t even need to hear it to know. His eyes had been flicking toward me since the first bell, like he was trying to decipher a painting with the wrong glasses on.

“Oh please,” I said, eyes still on my notes, pen twirling between my fingers, “I can hear you.”

Matt blinked. “I wasn’t—”

“You were,” I said sweetly. “And yes, I’m fine. Thriving. Positively glowing. I even remembered to color-code today’s notes. Do you want to see?”

I held up the page. Red for dates. Blue for names. Green for main points. Yellow stars in the margins. Everything neat. Perfect.

Matt gave a slow nod. “Looks… organized.”

“Right?” I grinned.

He fell silent again.

The rest of the morning passed like that. Me—beaming, bouncing, floating through it all like some unbothered version of myself. Answering questions. Making everyone laugh. Smiling like it wasn’t cracking my jaw.

It was almost impressive.

Almost.