The Way Things Change

The First Test

The first few weeks of school were strange. There was a certain unease in the air, like everyone was waiting for something to happen—waiting to see what Betty and I would do. There was still gossip, but it had started to die down, replaced by the usual back-to-school excitement. But the tension between Betty and me wasn't something you could just brush off like the latest rumor.

We were trying, though. Every day, I looked forward to seeing her, even if it was just in the halls or during lunch. Things still felt fragile, like we were carefully rebuilding something that had been broken, piece by piece. I kept telling myself that as long as we took it slow, we could get back to where we used to be.

But I underestimated how hard it would be.

One afternoon, Betty and I decided to meet up after school again. We'd been spending more time together, slowly getting back into the routine of our old friendship. It wasn't quite the same—it couldn't be, not after everything that had happened—but it was good. It was better than I'd hoped for.

We met at the park again, near the old oak tree. It had become our unofficial spot, a neutral ground where we could talk without the weight of everyone else's eyes on us. The sun was low in the sky, casting long shadows across the grass as Betty sat down beside me, her legs crossed under her.

"How was your day?" she asked, her tone light.

"Pretty good," I said, leaning back against the tree trunk. "Math was boring as usual, but I survived."

Betty smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. Something was off, and I could feel it. She was quieter than usual, her shoulders tense, her eyes flicking down to the ground every few seconds.

"What about you?" I asked, watching her carefully.

She hesitated for a moment before shrugging. "It was okay. Just... you know, the usual."

I frowned, sitting up a little straighter. "Are you sure? You seem kinda... off."

Betty let out a long sigh, and I knew immediately that something was wrong. She wasn't the type to hold back when something was bothering her, and I'd learned to recognize the signs over the years.

"I don't know," she said after a moment, her voice quiet. "It's just... everything feels different now, you know?"

I nodded slowly, unsure of where she was going with this. "Yeah, I get it. I've been feeling that way too."

Betty didn't look at me. She kept her eyes on the ground, her fingers absentmindedly tugging at the grass. "People are still talking about us. About what happened at the party. And Augustine. It's like... they won't let it go."

My chest tightened. I'd been trying to ignore the whispers, to pretend like they didn't bother me, but I knew exactly what she was talking about. Every time we walked down the hall together, I could feel the stares, hear the murmurs behind our backs. People hadn't forgotten about the party, and they weren't letting us forget either.

"I know," I said, my voice low. "It sucks. But we can't control what other people say."

Betty shook her head, finally looking up at me, her expression conflicted. "It's not just that, James. It's everything. I thought... I thought we could get past it, but I don't know if I can. I keep thinking about what happened, and it just... it hurts."

My heart sank. I'd known this wasn't going to be easy, but hearing her say it out loud made the reality of it hit harder than I expected.

"I know I messed up," I said, my voice thick with guilt. "I hate that I hurt you, Betty. But I'm trying. I'm doing everything I can to make it right."

She sighed again, her hands dropping into her lap. "I know you are. And I appreciate it, I do. But sometimes I wonder if we're just forcing something that's already broken. What if it's too late to fix things?"

Her words felt like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, I couldn't breathe. The fear that had been gnawing at the back of my mind for weeks suddenly came crashing to the surface. What if she was right? What if no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't fix this?

"I don't want to lose you," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "I'll do whatever it takes, Betty. I swear."

"I don't want to lose you either," she said softly, her eyes filled with sadness. "But I don't know if it'll ever be the same. We can't just pretend like nothing happened."

"I'm not pretending," I said quickly. "I know things are different now. I know I hurt you, and I know I can't just erase that. But I want to make it better, Betty. I want to show you that I can be the person you deserve."

Betty looked away, her expression pained. "It's not that simple, James. It's not just about what you say or what you promise. It's about how I feel. And right now, I don't know if I can get past it."

My stomach churned, the weight of her words crushing me. I'd known this would be hard, but I hadn't realized just how deep the hurt ran for her. I thought if I just kept trying, if I gave her space and time, things would slowly get better. But now, it felt like we were standing on the edge of something I couldn't pull us back from.

"I'm sorry," I said, my voice raw with emotion. "I'm so, so sorry, Betty. I hate myself for what I did, and I wish I could take it all back. But I can't. All I can do is try to be better. For you. For us."

She didn't respond right away, her gaze distant as if she were somewhere far away, lost in her own thoughts. I waited, my heart pounding, hoping that she'd find some way to meet me halfway. But when she finally spoke, her words were like a knife twisting in my chest.

"I think we need some more time apart," she said quietly, her voice trembling. "I thought I was ready to try again, but I'm not sure I am."

I felt like the ground had been ripped out from under me. I opened my mouth to protest, to say something, anything that would change her mind, but the words wouldn't come. My throat was tight, and all I could do was stare at her, feeling the weight of her decision crushing me.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes. "I just... I need to figure things out. And I can't do that if we're together all the time."

I nodded, my heart breaking. "I understand."

Betty wiped at her eyes, sniffling as she stood up. "I'm not saying it's over, James. I just... I need space."

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to stay calm. "Okay. I'll give you whatever you need."

She nodded, looking down at the ground. "Thank you."

Without another word, she turned and walked away, leaving me sitting there under the oak tree, feeling like everything I'd been holding onto was slipping through my fingers.

I watched her go, my chest tight, my heart heavy. It felt like no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't fix what I'd broken. I couldn't change the past, and now, I wasn't sure if I could save the future either.