Fading Ties

1. Beginning of the End

With each frantic step, my heart pounded like a jackhammer on overdrive.

"Dear God,"

I muttered under my breath,

"if you've got any of those miracle morning wake-up calls, I'm all ears."

My kid brother was right on my heels, his backpack doing a wild dance of its own. The school bus was there, just taunting us with its growling engine, as if it had a personal vendetta against my punctuality.

"I can't believe I'm late on the first day,"

 I grumbled to myself, my frustration simmering like a pot about to boil over. Here I was, armed to the teeth with highlighters and sticky notes, ready to slay senior year and my alarm clock decided to play hooky.

 Despite the chaos, a reluctant grin tugged at my lips After all, what's senior year without a few hiccups along the way? 

I plopped down next to my best friends, gasping for air like I'd just finished a marathon.

Autumn Reed was a sight to behold.

Her long wavy black hair flowed like a waterfall down her back, framing her face with effortless elegance. Those almond-shaped brown eyes of hers looked like pools of liquid gold in the sunlight, held a warmth and mischief that drew you in, making you feel instantly at ease in her presence.

"I'm pretty sure I just set a new world record for the fastest sprint in a skirt. Can I put that on my college applications?,"

I wheezed, pointing down at my skirt, which had ridden up embarrassingly during our mad dash.

Autumn glanced over at me, her long wavy black hair now tied into a braid cascading over her shoulder. Her almond-shaped brown eyes sparkled with amusement as she took in my disheveled appearance.

"Oh, absolutely,"

she quipped, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Add 'speed demon in pleats' to your resume. You'll be a shoe-in for every Ivy League college."

I couldn't help but roll my eyes at her teasing, though a small smile tugged at the corners of my lips. Trust Autumn to turn my morning disaster into a comedy sketch. With her around, even the most cringe-worthy moments felt like scenes from a sitcom. 

                                         
                     __________________

As we strolled toward the school, our steps in sync, we delved into a lighthearted debate over our academic choices for the year. I wrestled with the stubborn zipper of my backpack, which seemed to have a life of its own.

"I swear, if I have to deal with botany again, I might just photosynthesize myself," I exclaimed, the corners of my mouth twitching upwards in a playful smirk.

Autumn's laughter rang out, clear and bright. "Seriously! If I have to solve another calculus problem, I'll start seeing the world in graphs and derivatives," she declared, her hands dramatically framing an invisible graph in the air. Her chuckles were infectious, and I couldn't help but join in.

Our banter was abruptly interrupted when we collided with something or rather someone.

Keith Valencia. Autumn's boyfriend.

I scowled at the sight of him.

Did I like the guy? No way. He had the nerve to tell me not to peek at his test in fifth grade—as if I'd ever need to cheat, please.

But did I approve of him? Ugh, begrudgingly, yeah. He treated her right, I guess. Autumn, with her shy smile and those eyes that could melt glaciers. So, fine, he got a nod of approval from me. But don't think I'm throwing confetti or anything

While Keith was third wheeling Autumn and I, I noticed the boy standing beside him, and my scowl softened into something else entirely.

Eugene Kaufman.

My heart skipped a beat as I caught sight of him, my long-standing crush since Junior year. Eugene, with his easy smile and laid-back demeanor, was the object of my secret admiration since freshman year. He was the kind of guy who effortlessly commanded attention, while I preferred to blend into the background.

As our eyes met, a rush of nerves flooded through me. I quickly looked away, cheeks burning with embarrassment. Autumn gave me a knowing looks, aware of my feelings for Eugene. She had tried to talk him into dating me before, but Eugene had politely declined, 'sensing' my discomfort with the idea.

Despite their best intentions, I couldn't bring myself to speak to Eugene. I was too shy, too afraid of rejection. And so, Eugene remained nothing more than a distant dream, a green flag waving in the distance, forever out of reach.

As we climbed the dimly lit stairwell, the air thick with the scent of old wood and echoes of distant laughter, Eugene's whisper sliced through the silence, catching me like a deer in headlights. My heart didn't just skip a beat—it did a full-on gymnastic routine, thumping wildly against my chest as if trying to escape.

"Do you plan on ignoring me this year too?"

His words, barely louder than the creak of the steps beneath our feet, were laced with a vulnerability that made my stomach twist.

I turned to face him, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks, painting them a shade of crimson that would surely give away my inner turmoil.

Caught off guard by his directness, I stumbled over my words, unsure of how to respond. My pattern of dodging Eugene had become as reflexive as blinking—an armor built from layers of shyness and a silent dread of rejection.

Before I could string together a feeble excuse, his features softened, the lines of tension easing as he leaned in, his voice dropping to a murmur that only I could hear.

"I've tried to talk to you before, but you always walked away. I just wanted to know if... if things will be different this year."

The earnestness in his tone was a gentle hand reaching out, brushing against the raw edges of my conscience.

His confession, simple and sincere, cut through the pretense, exposing the fragile bridge of our past encounters. A wave of guilt crashed over me, a sobering realization of the pain my silent rebuffs might have inflicted. Eugene, with his quiet strength and unspoken patience, deserved more than the cold shoulder I had offered.

"I'm sorry,"

 I whispered, meeting his gaze with sincerity.

"I didn't mean to ignore you. It's just...  I don't know how to talk to you."

Eugene's eyes softened with understanding, and he gave me a small nod.

 "It's okay,"

he said gently.

"We can take it slow. Just know that  if you ever want to talk, I'm here."

With a grateful smile, I nodded back, feeling a weight lift off my shoulders. Maybe this year wouldn't be like the last after all. And as we reached our floor and went our separate ways to our respective classes.

And there she was, my partner in crime.

Emma Jade Baker. My best friend.