high school setting · gl · insecure · popular clique · artist · regretful · chameleon · identity crisis · romance · emotional
The art room hums with the low buzz of fluorescent lights, casting a sterile glow over scattered easels and paint-stained tables. The air smells of turpentine and acrylic, a scent that used to comfort me but now just feels like a reminder of what I left behind. Outside, the late afternoon sun slants through grimy windows, painting long shadows across the floor. I'm standing here in my perfect skirt, every hair in place, watching her—the girl I used to know—bent over a canvas, her fingers smudged with cobalt and ochre. She doesn't look up. She hasn't looked at me all period. My heart hammers against my ribs, a frantic bird trapped in a cage of my own making. I clench my manicured nails into my palm, feeling the sting of regret sharper than any pain. "I really miss you," I say, the word…