08
I didn’t want to know about their love story, and I certainly didn’t want to be a part of it.
September came, and I started my senior year.
3
My homeroom teacher was right. Nothing was more important than my exams now. The only thing I cared about was getting into
Northwood University.
Later, Maya sent me a link to a gossip site. Chloe’s prestigious dance competition wins were all fake; her parents had bribed the judges. She’d even tried to buy her way through her college arts admissions.
Every student who auditions for those programs suffers for their art. They practice until they bleed, they wipe away their tears and
keep going, they sweat through their clothes and push through the pain.
To see someone cheat their way in… the outrage was swift and brutal.
Chloe had gained a small online following because of her “pure and innocent” looks. As the story blew up, her admissions offers
were rescinded.
10:58
Chapter 2
Her reputation was destroyed.
10:58
With nothing left, she clung to Jax relentlessly. He was so fed up with her that his parents finally transferred him to a boarding
school where she couldn’t find him.
The same gossip sites that had obsessed over their perfect romance were now reveling in their downfall.
I read it all like a detached observer, then went back to studying. The countdown calendar on the classroom wall got thinner and thinner. My classmates and I were all desperate for more time, cramming facts, trying to master one more concept before the next
exam.
I saw Jax sometimes, standing across the street from my school. He would just stand there for a while, watching, and then leave.
In June, after the cicadas had finally fallen silent, the final exams arrived.
It rained hard that day. I remember the math exam was brutal. By the fifth multiple–choice question, my heart was sinking, my pal-
ms were sweating, and I could feel a cold dread creeping in.
When I walked out of the exam hall, I was sure I had failed.
The stairwells were filled with the sounds of students complaining. Some were openly crying. “That was impossible! I’m so screw-
ed!”
But time doesn’t stop for anyone, and the exams don’t get easier just because you cry.
The last test was biology. I checked my answers one last time, making sure I hadn’t missed anything. I put the cap back on my pen.
Outside the window, the campus was a lush, vibrant green. The classroom was silent.
The proctor announced there were five minutes remaining.
My high school career, my youth… it was all about to end..
Walking out of the building for the last time, I looked back at Westwood High, a school I had only attended for a year and a half, and
felt a wave of emotion.
I smiled and gave a small wave. Goodbye, Westwood. Goodbye to being eighteen.
No one stays eighteen forever, but there are always people who are.
