Between the Lines

Chapter 12- Patterns

Monday mornings had a way of putting everything back into its proper place.

Emily Rizzo liked that about them.

The routine was comforting-predictable in a world where reputation could unravel over something as small as who you were seen with after school. She woke early, dressed carefully, pinned her hair just right. By the time she stepped into the hallway at school, she looked exactly like she always had.

Unchanged.

But the problem with patterns was that eventually, people noticed them.

Emily felt it the moment she walked into the building.

It wasn't obvious at first-no open staring, no dramatic whispers-but a subtle shift in the air. Glances that lingered a second too long. Conversations that dipped when she passed. The kind of attention that didn't need to announce itself to be felt.

She kept her chin lifted and walked on.

In the hallway outside her locker, the cheer girls were already gathered, bright and polished, jackets tied neatly around their waists. Laughter bubbled up as Emily approached, and for a moment she let herself believe nothing had changed.

Then one of them leaned in too close.

"So," a girl said lightly, "how's the library been?"

Emily's fingers paused on the combination lock.

"It's quiet," she replied evenly. "That's kind of the point."

Another girl smirked. "You must really like studying lately."

Emily shut her locker and turned. "I like my grades."

A few of them laughed, but it wasn't unkind. Curious, more than anything. Jillian stood just off to the side, watching closely, saying nothing.

"Still," the first girl continued, "it's funny, right? You used to leave school with us all the time."

Emily shrugged. "Schedules change."

The bell rang, sharp and insistent, breaking the moment. The group scattered toward their classrooms, conversation unfinished but far from forgotten.

Emily exhaled slowly and headed for English.

Sodapop Curtis noticed it too.

He felt it in the way people looked at him as he walked through the halls-teachers' eyes following him longer than necessary, students nudging each other when he passed. He'd lived with attention like that his whole life, though. Greasers were always being watched, always being judged.

But this time, it felt different.

Because it wasn't just about him.

He slid into his seat beside Emily, careful not to crowd her, careful not to do anything that might draw more attention than they already had. She was already there, notebook open, posture straight, eyes forward like she hadn't clocked the way half the class was looking at them.

Soda admired that about her.

"How was your weekend?" he asked quietly, keeping his tone casual.

Emily didn't look at him. "Fine."

He glanced at her profile-perfectly composed, but he caught the slight tension in her jaw. "You okay?"

She nodded once. "Just tired."

He accepted that, even though he knew it wasn't the whole truth.

Mr. Aldridge launched into a lecture on thematic development, chalk squeaking against the board. Soda tried to focus. He really did.