When We Were Us

Chapter 1 - The Trio

"Time won't fly, it's like I'm paralyzed by it..." – Taylor Swift, All Too Well
Selena's POV

     2007.

Back when afternoons stretched endlessly, and the world felt smaller—like it could fit inside a text message or a school bench.

If you asked me what high school was really about, I wouldn't say quizzes, report cards, or even crushes. I'd say it was us.

Three girls, three grades apart, bound by one stubborn promise that no matter what, we'd always find each other at the end of the day.

Aria Velasquez was twelve and already convinced the world revolved around her. She'd strut across the courtyard like the pavement was her runway, pigtails bouncing as if she had her own personal wind machine. People stared. She liked it that way. She lived for the drama of her own existence.

Maya Ramirez, eleven, sleeves of her hoodie pulled past her hands, trailed two steps behind. Her thumbs flew over her Nokia keypad, the faint click-click of the buttons louder than her voice. She wasn't shy—not exactly. She just knew that silence sometimes carried more power than words. And when she did speak, her words landed sharp enough to draw blood.

And then there was me—Selena Cruz, fourteen. The ninth grader who'd somehow become the glue. I wasn't the loudest, or the funniest, or the prettiest. But I was the one who kept us together. If keeping the peace meant lying through my teeth, I'd do it without hesitation.

That Thursday afternoon, we claimed our usual spot: the cracked bench behind the gym. The sun had dipped low enough to cast long shadows across the cement, and the air smelled faintly of chalk and rust from the unused lockers nearby. It wasn't glamorous, but it was ours.

"Tell me I don't look like a goddess," Aria said, throwing her chin up with a dramatic flair, like she was posing for the cover of Seventeen. Her pleated skirt swished as she twirled, waiting for our applause.

"You look like you dressed in the dark," Maya muttered, eyes never leaving her phone.

I bit down on the straw of my orange juice, trying—and failing—not to laugh.

Aria gasped, clutching her chest. "My own niece! Betraying me with words sharper than a katana!"

Maya smirked faintly, her thumbs still tapping out a new message. "It's the truth."

"Ugh!" Aria whirled toward me, eyes gleaming with expectation. "At least you think I look good, right, Lena?"

I grinned and shrugged. "Sure. Post that on Friendster later. You'll probably break your testimonial record."

Aria groaned as though I'd stabbed her in the heart. "Et tu, Lena?"

Maya snorted. "Drama queen."

Aria turned back, glaring at her niece. "At least I don't waste my load texting the same person all day."

The words hung for half a second too long. Maya's thumbs froze mid-tap, her expression unreadable. Then, without missing a beat, she pocketed her phone and said coolly, "At least someone replies to me."

The silence stretched, sharp and uncomfortable, until I jumped in. "Okay, okay, can we not turn this into a teleserye scene?" I said, tossing my juice box into the trash. "You two fight like it's your full-time job."

Aria sighed dramatically, then flopped down on the bench beside me. Maya followed, leaning against the opposite armrest, her face tilted toward the sky as if the clouds had better company to offer.

And just like that, the moment shifted again. That was the thing about us—we could cut each other deep one second and dissolve into laughter the next.

Aria leaned her head against my shoulder, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Promise me something."

Maya turned her head slightly, her expression curious.

Aria's eyes flicked between us, wide and serious in a way that didn't fit her usual theatrics. "Promise me we'll always be like this. Just us three. No matter what."

For once, Maya didn't roll her eyes or fire back a sarcastic remark. She just stared at her aunt—her closest rival, her only real anchor—and said softly, "Fine. But don't start crying if I get bored of you."

Aria stuck her tongue out.

I laughed, but inside, the promise lodged itself into me like a pebble in a shoe—small, but impossible to forget.

We stayed there until the sun dipped below the buildings and the faint clang of the school bell echoed across the campus. Slowly, reluctantly, we gathered our bags and started the walk home, our shadows stretching and overlapping on the cracked pavement.

And that was us. A mess of sarcasm, loyalty, and laughter loud enough to drown out the rest of the world.

Back then, I thought it would last forever.
Back then, I thought we were unbreakable.