Between the Lines

Chapter 12- Patterns

"No," Darry agreed, "but you're in it now."

Soda stood. "I gotta get to class."

He didn't wait for a response.

That night, Emily sat at her desk, books spread out but unread.

Her parents' voices drifted up from downstairs-talk of work, of weekend plans, of the future they assumed she was moving toward.

She stared at the page in front of her and realized she was smiling.

She wiped it away immediately.

Get it together.

This wasn't a crush. It wasn't rebellion. It wasn't some dramatic teenage nonsense.

It was just... comfort.

And that scared her more than anything else.

By Tuesday, the questions stopped pretending to be casual.

Emily felt it the moment she stepped into the country club after school-warm air, polished floors, the faint scent of perfume and citrus cleaner. Everything in there was designed to look effortless. Designed to look like it had always belonged.

Her girls were already at their usual table by the window, coats draped carefully over chair backs, hair still perfect from the day. A waiter passed by with iced drinks on a silver tray, the clink of glass sounding too sharp in the quiet luxury.

Emily slid into her seat like nothing was wrong.

The table went quiet anyway.

"Okay," one of the girls said, leaning forward, elbows on the table like she was about to deliver a verdict. "I'm not asking in a mean way, Em. I'm asking because I'm confused."

Emily lifted her brows. "About what?"

"You," the girl replied. "And him."

Emily's hand tightened around her glass. She didn't sip. "There is no him."

Another girl cut in, voice lighter but no less pointed. "There is. People see you. You keep staying after school. You keep going-wherever you're going."

Emily's tone stayed measured. "I'm studying."

The first girl scoffed. "At his house?"

Emily went still.

Jillian's gaze sharpened subtly, but she stayed quiet.

Emily recovered fast. "Who told you that?"

"Does it matter?" the second girl asked. "Emily, you're-" she gestured vaguely, frustrated, "-you. You don't go to the Curtis house. You don't go anywhere near that neighborhood."

Emily's jaw tightened. "I can go wherever I want."

A third girl-usually kinder, usually softer-spoke up carefully. "It's not about permission. It's about... optics."

Emily looked at her. "Optics."

"Yes," the girl said. "Homecoming is coming up. College applications. Interviews. Your parents-"

"Leave my parents out of it," Emily snapped, sharper than she meant to.

The girls exchanged glances.

Jillian's eyes flicked to Emily's face, like she was checking for cracks.

The first girl leaned back, crossing her arms. "We're not trying to control you. We're trying to protect you."

Emily's smile was thin. "From what? A homework assignment?"