COMPLICATED.

CHAPTER 5

SECRETS

​The final hours of school slip by through a series of ceremonial thank-yous and the rehearsed clichés of the faculty.
"You’ve done excellent work."
"You are the promise of our future."
"New York needs brilliant minds, mathematicians, and scientists."
And so on. A tired, worn-out script that holds little inspiration for someone like me, who dreams of a life on stage. But this is New York, after all—what better place to chase the arts?
​The last hurdle is Spanish class. Señora Sanchez recites her phrases in a weary tone, visibly sleep-deprived. She’s likely recovering from one of her late-night seminars on adult literature; despite her prickly exterior, I respect her deeply for her intellect. I suspect her aggression is merely a shield to hide an irredeemably romantic soul, one that melts at the sight of a good book.
​"Quite the motivational speech, isn't it?" a sing-song voice whispers.
I turn around, surprised. It’s Aria, the newest arrival at our school. She moved here only last semester, and because of her guarded nature, no one had really tried to reach out to her.
"Oh, absolutely. It makes me want to bury myself in books for another ten years just to guarantee my survival!" I reply ironically.
We find ourselves laughing together, an unexpected moment of connection.
​I’ve never had any friends besides Nick. Perhaps the image of the "perfect girl" I carry around intimidates people, or maybe no one wants to measure themselves against someone who never seems to miss a beat. The things people assume. I had tried to fit in with Leo’s group—the "popular" crowd—but their superficiality only made me feel more alone. Aria, at least, made an effort, even if it was on the very last day. Better late than never.
​When the final bell pierces the air, chaos erupts. Papers fly, backpacks are emptied, and cheers fill the hallways. I smile: one step closer to my dream, to Juilliard.
Sanchez snaps me back to reality by clicking her fingers in front of my face. "Hamilton, do you plan on staying here another year? I’d have no problem failing you!" she jokes with a rare glint in her eye.
"Excuse me, Señora Sanchez. I wish you the best!"
"Not so fast, girl. I’ve wanted to ask: have you ever considered studying literature? You have a remarkable pen and a grasp of text that is far beyond the norm."
Her question catches me off guard, as does her sudden kindness. "Thank you, Señora. I love literature; I’ve devoured novels my whole life. But my future is singing."
She eyes me from head to toe in her typical critical fashion. "I see. Still, I’d recommend a creative writing course; it would help you compose your own lyrics. Think about it. Now go, you’ve all stressed me out enough for one day. Good luck, Hamilton."
"Thank you so much, I will. Goodbye!"
As I head for the door, I catch a glimpse of a tiny smile on my "hated" professor’s face. I knew it!
​Out in the courtyard, I find Nick celebrating like a wild animal, shouting and cheering with his friends. He’s completely out of his mind, but his energy is contagious, and I let myself be swept up in his madness. Leo, however, is nowhere to be seen. No sign of him, the team, or the cheerleaders. I assume they’re still stuck in practice... or perhaps Leo went home.
​"So, are you ready?" Nick asks as we head to his car.
"Where to, m'lady?" he adds, mimicking the scene from my favorite movie, Titanic.
"Not to the stars, unfortunately. I want to go home, but I want to stop by Leo’s first. I need to see if he's there and, more importantly, talk about his attitude lately. I let it slide this morning, but I want to clear the air once and for all."
Nick stays silent for a few seconds, watching me intently. After an eternity, he responds.
"That wasn't exactly what I had in mind, but fine. If it makes you feel better, go ahead. Insult him for me. Maybe we can meet up later for strawberry cupcakes to celebrate the end of high school?"
He always has an excuse for something sweet.
"Deal. I’ll call you later."
​I get out of the car in front of Leo’s house. Nick offers to wait, but I reassure him: "Don't worry, I'll handle this."
I watch his car pull away and head toward the house. I knock, but there’s no answer. The door is unlocked, which is strange. I decide to step inside; the living room and kitchen are empty. I head upstairs, announcing myself at the top of my lungs.
"It’s Emma! The door was open, how did the last prac—?"
​The words die in my throat. Nothing could have prepared me for this.
Him. Her.
In the bedroom.
Him kissing her with a passion he never showed me.
Her laughing, returning the kiss.
Him. Her.
In the bed.
Both of them naked.
He looks at me, speechless.
She remains frozen.
LEO AND SASHA.
And I am the intruder.