'til forever falls apart | gracie abrams

4 - you were the catalyst

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Archer had breezed through the semi-finals, in Amelie's opinion, the team they played was even worse than the one they faced in the quarter-finals. Everything was leading up to Saturday, and the exhaustion was catching up to Amelie. People were starting to notice.

"You alright, kid?" Coach Harrison had asked.

"You good, Maples?" Hannah had questioned.

"Are you feeling okay?" Sofia had inquired.

"Do you need some water?" Rachel had queried.

And Amelie's response to all four had been;

"I'm fine," Even though she knew she wasn't.

Nobody pushed or asked any further questions, which she was grateful for. She hoped that the rest of them could just chalk it up to the fact that she was a little on edge, everyone was. It was the state finals, after all, the first in Archer history. It would be weird if she wasn't on edge.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom," Amelie mumbled, scurrying off so she could splash some cold water in her face.

Of course, as luck would have it, she wouldn't be alone there either. Gracie was hunched over the sink, doing the exact same thing that she had just thought about. Gracie seemed to be everywhere lately, not that Amelie was complaining.

"Hey, we really need to stop meeting up under these circumstances," Amelie joked, earning herself a breathy laugh from the brunette.

"I take it you've come here to try to calm down, too?" Gracie suggested.

"No," Amelie shook her head, "Quite the opposite, actually, I need to wake myself up."

"Couldn't sleep last night?" Gracie watched as the blonde girl repeated her own earlier actions.

"Something like that," Amelie mumbled.

She wasn't about to admit to Gracie that she had driven down to the beach two nights in a row to practice until the crack of dawn. She would think that she's insane, and that's the last thing Amelie wanted. She just needed to get through this weekend. She could sleep the whole day away on Sunday once they win.

"I get it," Gracie offered a curt nod, "The nerves, right? I can only imagine how you feel right now."

Amelie didn't have the heart to tell Gracie that she was wrong, that the nerves didn't bother her, that she wasn't exactly nervous. She just refused to fail. Stubborn, Amelie supposed you could call it that. Maybe she was just the tiniest bit afraid.

"Yeah," Amelie simply said, "I should get back out there. Tell me something I don't know so I have something else to think about."

"Um... my middle name is Madigan?" Gracie cringed at herself the second the words left her mouth.

"That was a terrible fun fact, but alright, I'll take it, I guess," Amelie teased, "I'm kidding. Wish me luck?"

"You know I will," Gracie offered a smile, "And don't forget to have fun, okay?"

"God, you sound like Sylas," Amelie groaned, though still grinning as usual, then turned to leave.

And once again, Gracie was left with a bitter taste in her mouth. One that refused to leave or weaken, one that lingered unwelcomed until she had no choice but to ignore it for the sake of enjoying the game.

Sylas. Sylas Reeves, she had learned his name was. Junior at Beverly Hills High School, star point guard of the varsity basketball team, and undoubtedly the perfect boyfriend for a girl like Amelie Maples. How ridiculously perfect. Gracie hated the fact that she wasn't even mad, just saddened by the fact that Amelie would never think of her the way she thought of Sylas. That she doesn't stand a chance even if Amelie wasn't dating someone. The thought made Gracie want to tear each hair out of her arm individually, slowly, to make it painful.