Page 21 of Only When It Breaks

I glance back one last time.

Emmie doesn’t look up.

I lean against my car, arms folded, watching the doors. It’s been ten minutes since the final bell. Most people are long gone. But I’m still here. Waiting forher.

I spot Emmie finally as she exits the building. Her head is down, headphones in, and her bag slung high like a shield. She walks right past me without even a glance. “Emmie.” She doesn’t stop. I push off the car and catch up in three strides. “Emmie,” I say again, louder this time.

She finally stops and yanks out one earbud. “What?” Her tone’s flat, like I’m a stranger asking for spare change. No trace of the girl who made fun of my music taste this morning.

“I’m giving you a ride.”

“I don’t need a ride,” she says, turning like that’s the end of it.

I step in front of her. “You’re getting in the car.”

Her eyes flash. “Excuse me?”

“Come on,” I say, voice low but firm. “It’s gonna rain in ten minutes, and your house is out of the way. I’m already here.”

She folds her arms. “I didn’t ask you to be.”

“Too bad,” I say, stepping around her and opening the passenger door. “Get in.”

With a frustrated sigh, she climbs in. It’s a minor victory, but I’ll take it.

I slide behind the wheel and pull out of the carpark in silence. She’s staring straight ahead like I don’t exist. “Are you mad about lunch?” I ask after a beat.

“Nope.”

“Right,” I mutter. “Because ignoring me like I insulted your grandma is just your normal vibe.”

She scoffs. “I told you this morning, we’re not friends.” It lands harder than it should. I glance over, but she’s still looking out the window.

“She grabbed my arm,” I say, choosing to address the root of the problem. “I didn’t exactly plan to go to her.”

“Yet you did.”

More silence settles between us. “I saw you and I was coming over, but then she grabbed me and-”

“It really doesn’t matter.”

“But itdoes.”

She turns, her eyes narrow. “Why? You’ve barely spoken to me in years, and now I’m supposed to care that youalmostdid the decent thing?”

I exhale loudly. “I’m trying, Em, it’s just hard to break away.”

She doesn’t reply.

We pull up to her house just as the first drops of rain hit the windscreen. Before she can grab the handle, the front door opens, and her mum steps out, smiling like it’s Christmas morning.

“Kai!” she calls. “Come in for a minute.”

Emmie groans under her breath. “Mum . . .”

But I’m already out of the car. “I’d love to,” I say, grinning at her mum like the golden boy I can be when I want to.

Emmie glares at me as we walk to the door. “You’re such a suck-up.”

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