I was eating lunch at the back of one of the school buildings. This particur one was the G Block—or the Math Block, as some students had started calling it—since most of our math lessons were held there.

  I was halfway through my tuna mayo sandwich, a book in hand. It was the test from one of my favorite authors, John Fggon, and I was absorbed in the sed chapter when I heard it.

  Loud, ugly sobbing.

  I exhaled through my nose, already dreading whatever this was.

  I was sitting in a hidden er at the back of the building, out of sight. Whoever she was, she must not have noticed me.

  “Fug dickhead! What a dickhead!” she muttered between sobs.

  I resisted the urge to groa me guess—a breakup. A guy did something horrendous, like cheat on her nore her for a few hours, and now her world was ending.

  “How could he do this to me… after everything we’ve been through…” she cried.

  I didn’t move, hoping she’d leave soon. But she didn’t. She lingered just around the er, close enough that I could hear her sniffles. Close enough that if I even shifted, I’d give myself away.

  I g the open crisp packet o me aed whether it was worth the risk to grab ohe kle would be loud. She’d hear it. And then I’d have to deal with the awkwardness of being caught eavesdropping on someone having a full breakdown.

  I waited. She was still there.

  I checked my watch. Twenty minutes left of lunch. My stomach growled.

  Screw it.

  I reached for a crisp, trying to be discreet, but of course, the packet crackled obnoxiously loud.

  The g stopped.

  “Who’s there?” The girl’s voice was hoarse, wary.

  I sighed and held out my hand around the er, letting her see I was there.

  “Just me,” I said, guilty like I’d been caught doing something wrong.

  A beat of silehen a sniffle.

  “How long…?” she started awkwardly.

  I hesitated, but my ck of response was answer enough.

  She groaned. “So you heard me, huh.”

  Another sniffle. Then, to my surprise, a breathy, embarrassed chuckle. “God… how humiliating.”

  “It’s fine,” I said simply and resumed adding crisps to my sandwich. I was already caught; I might as well eat.

  “Yeah…” she exhaled. “I don’t know. I just feel so stupid, you know?”

  “No,” I replied ftly.

  She paused, clearly thrown off by my bluntness.

  “Ah… hmm…” She fidgeted. “You’re kind of weird, you know that? Really blunt.”

  I shrugged.

  “Hmm.”

  She sighed, the weight of her emotions still lingering. “I o get over this. He’s a fug cheater. Liar. All men are like that,” she spat bitterly.

  That was an eneralization. But I didn’t care enough tue.

  Then, quieter, she muttered, “I haven’t evee…”

  I held out the other half of my sandwich without thinking.

  “For me?” she asked, hesitating. “What is it?”

  “Tuna mayo.”

  She hummed, thinking. Then, slowly, she moved closer and took it from my hand.

  “Mind if I sit here?” she asked, her voice small.

  I goward her shadow stretg around the er. For a moment, I sidered saying no—out of habit more than anything. But I didn’t.

  “Sure,” I said.

  I heard her shift before she stepped into view.

  Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Pretty.

  Astrid. One of the most pirls in school.

  She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, looking at me with a small, awkward smile.

  “Hi,” she said, like we were meeting for the first time.

  I nodded.

  She sat dowo me. For a moment, she hesitated, still fiddling with the sandwich.

  “Kind of awkward, isn’t it?” she muttered.

  “Only if you think it is,” I replied casually, taking a sip of my e juice.

  “Hmm.” She sidered that. “My name’s Astrid, by the way.”

  “Henry.”

  She studied me. “You always eat back here?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why?”

  “Quiet. Less people.”

  She hummed, chewing on her sandwich. “Sounds kind of lonely.”

  “Sounds kind of peaceful,” I corrected.

  She huffed a quiet ugh. “I guess I see that.”

  A lull settled between us. ly fortable, but not unfortable either. Just… quiet. She picked at the sandwich er, occasionally gng at me like she wao say something but wasn’t sure how.

  Finally, she spoke. “What are you reading?”

  I held up the book cover. “Blood & Ruin. John Fggon.”

  Her brows lifted. “Oh! I’ve heard of that. Isn’t it kind of brutal?”

  “A bit.”

  She smirked. “You don’t talk much, do you?”

  I turned a page. “I talk enough.”

  She let out a dramatic sigh. “Henry, for someone who just witnessed a girl having aional breakdown, you’re surprisingly unfazed.”

  I finally g her. “Would you rather I freak out?”

  She blihe out a shh. “No, I guess not. But a little sympathy wouldn’t hurt.”

  I took another bite of my sandwich. “I gave you food.”

  Her lips twitched. “True. That was very noble of you.”

  “Exactly.”

  She smirked, but something in her expression softened, like she was seeing me differently now. Then, after a pause, she leaned back against the wall.

  “Hey, Henry?”

  “Hm?”

  “Why’d you help me?”

  I shrugged. “You were hungry. I had food.”

  She tilted her head, watg me like she was trying to figure something out. “That’s it?”

  “Should there be more?”

  She exhaled, amused but thoughtful. “You’re weird.”

  “So I’ve been told.”

  She stretched, exhaling heavily. “I think I like you, Henry. You’re different.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that, so I just kept reading.

  Astrid ughed. “See? That’s what I mean. You’re not even flustered, are you?”

  “No.”

  “Not even a little?”

  “Nope.”

  She grinned. “I think I’m gonna sit here with you more often.”

  I flicked my eyes toward her. “You sure? It’s quiet here, remember?”

  “Yeah, well…” She leaned back, folding her arms. “Maybe I could use a little quiet.”

  I didn’t answer, but I also didn’t tell her to leave.

  Somehow, that seemed to be enough for her.

  ***

  The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch.

  I packed my lunchbox into my bag while Astrid stretched zily.

  “Sorry about eating some of your crisps… and your chocote,” she said sheepishly.

  “You o stop apologizing for every little thing. It gets old fast.”

  “Ouch… Are you this blunt with everyone?” she asked.

  “No. Just with pretty girls,” I said absentmindedly.

  Astrid froze. Then, shock flickered across her face, her blue eyes wide.

  She opened her mouth—then shut it. A sed ter, she burst into ughter, so hard she snorted and hit her head against the wall.

  “Are you flirting with me?” she asked, raising a brow.

  “Nope,” I replied, standing up.

  I heard her scramble to her feet. “Wait—” she hesitated. “Did I upset you?”

  I stopped, turning just as she nearly walked into me.

  She gasped, her hands catg my arms. She smelled like honey and vanil.

  For a moment, we just stood there.

  Then, slowly, I reached up.

  Her eyes tracked my hand, watg.

  I pinched her cheek lightly.

  She inhaled sharply.

  “Stop overthinking things,” I said.

  A pause. Then, finally, she let out a small, breathy chuckle. “Yeah…”

  I let go and started walking.

  “…I’ll see you tomorrow?” she called out, a bit unsure.

  I gave her a thumbs-up without looking back.

  Behind me, I heard her ugh.

  ***

  The rest of the school day passed ufully. I sat through my afternoon csses, half-listening, half-thinking about the weird turn my lunch break had taken.

  Astrid.

  Of all people, Astrid.

  The girl I had only ever seen surrounded by her friends, moving through the halls like she belonged in some ing-of-age movie. The type of person who seemed untouchable in the social hierarchy of high school. Aoday, she had sat o me, eating my food, g over some cheating bastard, and ughing at my dry responses like I was someone worth talking to.

  It was… odd.

  By the time the final bell rang, I had mostly pushed it from my mind. I packed up my things, slung my bag over my shoulder, and made my way toward the school gates.

  Outside, the sun was still lingering, casting a warm, e glow over the pavement. I took my usual route home—past the field, through the shortcut behind the gym, and then onto the quiet road that led to my neighborhood.

  I had barely walked five minutes when I heard footsteps behind me.

  Fast. Like someone was catg up.

  I sighed internally. If it’s another pers to sell me a student fundraiser ticket, I swear…

  But before I could turn around, a familiar voice called out.

  “Hey! Henry!”

  I stopped, gng over my shoulder.

  Astrid.

  She jogged up to me, slightly out of breath, her schoolbag slung over one shoulder. She pushed her blonde hair out of her face, a small grin.

  I raised an eyebrow. “You following me?”

  She scoffed. “Please. I live this way.”

  I blinked. “Since when?”

  “Since forever?” she ughed. “I live like ten minutes from here.”

  Huh. I had never noticed.

  “Mind if I walk with you?” she asked, tilting her head.

  I shrugged. “It’s a free street.”

  She grinned. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  We fell into step beside each other, the sileretg between us.

  Astrid, despite her usual loud and fideation, didn’t seem in a rush to fill it. She just walked, occasionally kig at loose pebbles on the sidewalk.

  “So,” she finally said, “do you always walk home alone?”

  “Yeah.”

  “No friends live nearby?”

  I shook my head.

  She hummed, sidering. “That’s kinda sad.”

  “It’s kinda peaceful.”

  She smirked. “You always do that?”

  “What?”

  “Reword things to make them sound less depressing.”

  I side-eyed her. “You always overanalyze everything?”

  She gasped dramatically, clutg her chest. “Henry, was that a joke?”

  I sighed. “You’re exhausting.”

  “And you’re eaining,” she said, grinning. “I think I’m gonna keep b you.”

  I sighed again, deeper this time, just to make a point.

  Astrid ughed.

  We reached a turn in the road, and I realized she wasn’t lying—her route home actually was the same as mine.

  How had I never noticed before?

  As we he final street, Astrid suddenly slowed her steps. I g her.

  She looked… hesitant.

  “You alright?” I asked.

  She exhaled, rubbing the back of her neck. “Yeah, just… I guess I don’t feel like going home yet.”

  I tilted my head. “Why?”

  She didn’t answer right away. Then, finally, she gave me a small, almost sheepish smile.

  “Wanna hang out for a bit?”

  That was ued.

  I studied her face, the way she kept her expression casual, but there was something in her eyes—something unspoken.

  I could have said no. I usually would have said no.

  But instead, I shrugged. “Sure.”

  And just like that, Astrid Bright—the girl who was supposed to exist in a different universe than mine—was walking beside me, past the street leading to her house, as if today had never been weird at all.