tradition

11

Briar had been simmering all day, her thoughts circling in a relentless loop of frustration and disbelief. She couldn't shake the sting of betrayal every time Eloise's face came into view, a fresh wave of irritation surging through her. How could she keep something like this from me? Briar thought bitterly, ducking into yet another empty corridor to avoid crossing paths with her friend. It wasn't just that Eloise was probably George—though that alone was enough to rattle Briar. It was the secrecy, the unspoken wall that had grown between them. 

Briar had always considered George like family, a comforting constant in her life, and now that image was warped, tangled with Eloise in ways Briar hadn't been prepared for. She tried to justify her pettiness, telling herself it was only fair to be upset, but deep down, she knew her avoidance was juvenile. Even so, she couldn't help it. At breakfast, she sat as far away as possible, her focus fixed on her toast until Eloise arrived, at which point she quickly excused herself. During lessons, she made a point of sitting near Georgia or other classmates, throwing Eloise only the occasional curt glance.

By the time Potions class began, Briar's simmering frustration was dangerously close to boiling over. She settled herself firmly beside Georgia, her back to Eloise, and immediately busied herself with their assignment. Eloise, however, wasn't one to let things fester. As they worked, Eloise leaned forward, her tone light and teasing. "What's wrong? Are you mad I nicked the last blueberry muffin this morning? Or is this about Harry's absurd Quidditch drills again?" she joked, her voice carrying a casual cheeriness that only irritated Briar further. Briar's grip on her stirring rod tightened, her movements jerky and aggressive. "Mhm," she muttered vaguely, refusing to meet Eloise's gaze. But Eloise wasn't easily deterred. Her cheerful chatter grated on Briar's nerves, the disconnect between Eloise's oblivious demeanor and the storm inside Briar making the tension almost unbearable.

Georgia, ever perceptive, caught onto Briar's unease immediately. "Briar, what's going on?" she asked softly, her tone cautious as she tried to coax an explanation from her friend. "You've been avoiding Eloise all day—" Georgia's words were cut short as Briar's frustration erupted. She snapped her head up, fixing Eloise with a glare that could have curdled milk. "Oh, so now you want to talk to me?" Briar's voice was sharp, her words slicing through the hum of the classroom like a blade. "Funny, because you didn't seem to care about talking to me before. Not when you decided to date one of my best friends and didn't think it was important enough to mention." The accusation hung heavy in the air, freezing Eloise mid-stir. Her cheerful facade cracked, confusion and guilt flooding her features. Georgia, meanwhile, blinked in startled confusion, glancing between the two of them as if trying to piece together what she'd missed.

Georgia opened her mouth to respond, her usual quick wit faltering under Briar's glare. "Briar, I—I didn't mean for it to happen this way," she stammered, her voice quieter now, laced with the uncertainty of who Briar had directed her harsh remarks. "It just... happened." But Briar wasn't ready to let her off the hook. The frustration that had been simmering all day surged to the surface, spilling out in a torrent of words. "You didn't think to talk to me? To explain? Do you have any idea how blindsided I feel right now?" Briar's voice rose slightly, drawing the curious gazes of nearby classmates. Eloise's shoulders slumped, guilt written plainly across her face, but before she could answer, Georgia shifted beside Briar, her expression a mix of discomfort and something else—something Briar couldn't quite place.

It was Georgia who finally spoke, her voice hesitant and unsure. "Wait... Briar, you're mad about Eloise and George?" she asked, her tone cautious as if she were stepping onto thin ice. Briar's gaze snapped to her, confusion flickering briefly before suspicion took its place. "Yes, of course I am. What else would I—" The words died on her lips as realization dawned. Georgia's eyes darted to Eloise, then back to Briar, her discomfort deepening. Briar's stomach dropped. "You can't be serious," she whispered, her voice barely audible, her anger momentarily giving way to disbelief. She looked between her two friends, searching for confirmation, dreading the answer she already knew.