FRIDAY'S GIRL ·ϿʘϾ·

Chapter 44

Saturday, March 30th: First thing I did when I opened my eyes was check my phone to see if April had messaged me. Unfortunately, all I had was a couple of texts from my girlfriend.

Maddison: "Happy birthday, babe!"

After that, there were a bunch of colorful, super festive GIFs.

Maddison: "Picking out an outfit that goes with my shirt for tomorrow's The Weeknd concert."

She'd also sent a few pics in different clothes, including one where she was just in pink lace panties and a black shirt that read, "Salty Water."

Maddison: "See you later."

I also had a flood of voice notes, memes, emojis, and texts from Chloe. I didn't even try to read them. I closed the app and covered my face with my arm, letting out a long sigh of defeat.

I'd messed things up with April, and I had no idea what to do or say to make it right. Unmotivated, I started scrolling online, checking out funny profiles. In the middle of the shorts, a news story about Fairfield caught my eye. "California Forever" was a super controversial project funded by tech billionaires who wanted to build a new city in Solano County. The plan had sparked a lot of local drama because it would use tons of natural resources, like water. Plus, it was a national security risk since it was so close to Travis Air Force Base, a key military site.

"Guess I should get up," I said out loud, apathetically sitting up in bed.

Even though it was my birthday, I was in a terrible mood. I couldn't care less about parties, gifts, or cake. All I wanted was one thing: a message from April.

I hadn't seen her in days—we just passed each other in the hall. She'd turned down every invite to meet up in the boiler room, even when I left little paper notes since she wasn't answering my calls or messages. Her silence was eating me up, filling me with this nagging sense of anxiety and emptiness. My mom was getting really worried about my mood, while my dad just kept saying I'd probably hit another growth spurt and end up six foot five.

That whole week, April hadn't even dropped off her usual little gifts. I couldn't stop thinking about it. I kept going over everything, again and again, trying to figure out a way to fix things. I picked up my phone and decided to text her.

Brad: "Good morning, April."

I rolled my eyes and deleted the greeting. Maybe that sounded too casual? Too formal? I thought about it a bit and started again.

Brad: "Can we meet up today?"

Then I hit delete again. Nothing sounded right, nothing seemed like what I really wanted to say. Should I send her a funny pic instead? Or maybe a joke to break the ice? Or an apology? Damn it, I didn't even know how to reach out to her without feeling totally lame.

Brad: "Are you seriously not going to wish me a happy birthday? Did I hurt you that bad?"

I stared at those two questions, seeing the manipulation behind them. "Ugh, you're pathetic," I thought, realizing how deeply I'd internalized and normalized this toxic behavior. Lost in thought, I accidentally hit send.

"Crap!" In a panic, I tried to delete the text, but suddenly, right underneath it, I saw the dreaded "read" with the timestamp. My heart nearly stopped.

No reply came. As I got dressed, I kept checking my screen, hoping for an answer. If she did text back, I had it all planned out: I'd apologize and promise to break up with my girlfriend before prom. All the lies were killing me. I needed this chance to get free of all the crap and, honestly, to finally be real.

When my phone pinged with a message, my hands got sweaty, and I held my breath, praying it was from her.

But to my total disappointment, it was Chloe. She even tried calling, but I didn't pick up—I just wasn't in the mood. She was always looking for excuses to be alone with me and never seemed to get the hints that it was time to end whatever "relationship" we had... if you could even call it that. Avoiding her felt impossible, like trying to avoid the tide on the beach. If she showed up in one hallway, I'd head down another. I ignored her so harshly, but the girl just didn't take the hint.