The hallway was quieter than usual. Most students had already swarmed the cafeteria or ducked into classrooms to escape the drudge of mandatory after-lunch activities. But Cindy stood waiting, right by the chemistry lab's fire extinguisher—the one that never worked and always looked about to fall off the wall.
She leaned back casually, arms crossed. She knew Sandy would take her usual route past the labs. She always did. Same routine, like a ghost retracing old steps. Predictable in a way that made Cindy ache.
Footsteps echoed. Heels.
Cindy straightened up.
Sandy turned the corner, head down, arms wrapped tightly around her binder like a shield. Her hair was pulled back into a too-tight bun. Her face was blank in that familiar, numb way—except her eyes, those always gave her away. Dull when they used to spark. Alert in a way that said I'm afraid to breathe wrong.
Cindy fell in step behind her.
"You didn't sleep, did you?" she asked softly, not enough to be overheard.
Sandy flinched, just slightly. She didn't stop walking.
"You can't do this," she whispered, eyes still ahead. "We can't. Not here."
"I didn't do anything," Cindy replied, tone too casual. "You tripped. Our lips touched. That's all."
But the smirk in her voice was sharp. Deliberate.
Sandy stopped abruptly and spun around. Her grip caught Cindy's wrist and yanked her into the narrow janitor's closet beside the lab.
The door slammed shut, and the world outside vanished.
Inside: bleach. Mop buckets. Pine-scented lies.
Sandy didn't speak at first. The air was stale with tension. Her breathing was uneven.
Cindy leaned against the wall, watching her.
"You think this is a fucking game?" Sandy hissed finally, her voice low but seething.
Cindy didn't flinch. She blinked slowly. "No."
"You'll ruin me."
"You're already ruined."
The words slipped out like a blade, and it cut exactly where it was meant to.
Sandy recoiled, visibly. She pressed a hand to her chest, like trying to push the impact back in.
"You don't know what it's like," she said, voice cracking, cracking open. "Living with someone who smiles at the world but strangles you with silence at home. Who tracks your phone, your messages, your fucking tone. You think I want this?"
Cindy was quiet for a moment. Her expression softened, just a little.
"No," she said finally. "But I think you need someone who sees you."
Silence.
Sandy's eyes glistened, and for a second it looked like she might let it fall. Just break, completely, right there with the mop bucket watching. But she didn't. Instead, she turned sharply, her hand on the doorknob.
"Get to class," she muttered.
But the door opened too soon—and Thornson was there.
Smiling like a dog waiting to be fed.
He raised an eyebrow, eyes flicking from Sandy's flushed face to Cindy's. "Everything alright?"
Cindy stepped forward, brushing past Sandy as if it was nothing. "Yeah. She caught me skipping. Gave me a ten-minute lecture. You'd be proud."
Thornson laughed, but it didn't reach his eyes.
Cindy walked off, cool as ice.
Behind her, she could hear Sandy's voice—strained, careful.
"Let's go," Sandy muttered.
**********************************************************************************
Sandy sat at her vanity, brushing her hair mechanically. Thornson was in the shower, whistling some fake cheerful tune, like a sitcom dad.
She stared at her reflection.
Her eyes were tired. Her lip had a small bruise where he'd "accidentally" elbowed her last night when she'd questioned him about a locked phone.
"Don't start your paranoia," he'd said, voice low and venomous. "You always ruin everything."
She could still hear it echoing. You always ruin everything.
And now—Cindy.
That girl scared her.
Not because she was dangerous. But because she was honest. Brutally. Fearlessly.
She'd looked Sandy in the eye and said the thing Sandy couldn't admit to herself: You're already ruined.
Sandy set the brush down and stared at her hands. Cindy had kissed them earlier. Had wiped away her tear like she belonged there. Like it was natural.
It was terrifying.
It was warm.
It was everything she wasn't allowed to have.
*******************************************
The next day, school buzzed like a hornet's nest. Rumors were flying. Someone had posted a blurry photo—two silhouettes in the janitor closet. No faces, just shadows. But already, whispers were spreading.
Cindy walked through it like a storm. Calm, unshaken.
She found Sandy during her free period, pretending to grade papers in the teacher's lounge. Cindy walked in and dropped a bottle of green tea on her desk.
Sandy didn't look up.
"You need to be careful," Sandy said quietly.
"I am," Cindy replied. "But you? You're still flinching like the world's gonna catch you."
Sandy's fingers tightened on her pen.
"You think I'm not scared?" she whispered.
Cindy leaned in. Her voice was low, but fierce.
"I think you're stronger than you know. And I think if you wanted out, you'd find a way. But if you don't want help, fine. Just stop pretending you don't want to be seen."
Sandy looked up then. Her lips parted, a protest half-formed—but she didn't say it. Her eyes were glassy again.
Cindy smiled, slow and dark. "I'm not your enemy, Sandy."
"No," Sandy said, her voice barely audible. "You're the fire I can't touch."
"Then burn," Cindy whispered.
After school, Thornson was waiting for her outside. He held her bag, smiling like the perfect gentleman.
"How was your day?" he asked.
"Fine," Sandy said. She reached for her bag, but he didn't let go.
"You were in the closet with that girl," he said, smile still plastered on.
Sandy froze.
"Do you think I don't hear things?" he went on, voice light. "Do you think I don't see?"
"I was disciplining her—"
"You looked flushed when you came out," he said, stepping closer. "You looked like you'd been touched."
"Lower your voice—"
He leaned in, his breath hot against her ear. "You humiliate me like that again, I'll make sure they fire your ass so fast you won't even have time to pack your little teacher skirts."
She clenched her fists.
And smiled.
Because Cindy was right.
This wasn't living.
And maybe, just maybe, she was ready to start burning.