The cafeteria was loud. Laughter bounced off the walls, trays clattered, and someone in the back corner was trying to convince the lunch lady that "no, that gray stuff is not chicken."
But all Penelope could hear was the whisper in her head:
"Girls like me don't win."
She didn't know where it came from exactly—somewhere between last night's confrontation with Julian and the ache in her chest she couldn't seem to explain. Or maybe it was from the way Marc had looked at her in the hallway this morning, like he was looking through her, not at her.
"Pen," Veronica said, waving a fry in front of her face like it was a magic wand. "Earth to Heart Girl. Where are you right now?"
Penelope blinked. "Nowhere."
"Good, because we have a problem," Callie said, sliding into the seat across from them. "The Marc Fan Club has tripled overnight. I saw three different girls offer him snacks. One offered her locker. Her actual locker."
Penelope raised an eyebrow. "Romance is dead."
"Dead, buried, and decomposed," Veronica added. "Marc just smirked and said, 'Thanks, but I travel light.' Ugh, he's like if James Dean and heartbreak had a baby."
"Sounds like your type," Callie teased.
"Shut up."
Penelope watched them banter, but her smile didn't quite reach her eyes.
The truth was, she hadn't slept. Not after Julian said what he said. Not after that almost-kiss that still hung between them like unfinished poetry. She had stood in front of her mirror afterward, staring at herself like a stranger.
Girls like me don't win.
Not the girls with quiet smiles and awkward hands. Not the ones who wrote letters they never sent and reread conversations to find hidden meanings. Not the girls who loved too much and said too little.
Someone slid into the seat beside her. Marc.
He had that same easy grin, the one that made half the school stutter. But today, his eyes were serious.
"Hey."
Penelope nodded. "Hey."
"I heard about Julian," he said.
"Yeah?" she said, voice tight.
Marc leaned in, dropping his voice. "I also heard he's an idiot."
Penelope blinked. "You've been here two weeks."
"I don't need two years to recognize a guy who doesn't deserve what he wants but still reaches for it anyway."
She didn't respond. Not with words.
Marc continued, "He looks at you like you're oxygen. Like he can't breathe without you. But then he acts like he's fine drowning."
That hit a little too close. Penelope looked away.
Marc softened. "Look, I'm not trying to be poetic. I just think you deserve better."
And then, as if fate enjoyed throwing gasoline on fire, Julian walked by their table at that exact moment, saw Marc leaning close, and stopped.
His expression went blank.
Veronica, never one to waste drama, loudly said, "Awkward."
Julian didn't say anything. He just walked on.
But Penelope saw it. The flicker. The falter in his step.
He still cared.
Marc, ever the provocateur, leaned back and said, "You know, I could always start a Penelope Fan Club. But it'd just be me, which is fine. I don't share well."
Callie fake-gagged. "You two need to get a room."
Penelope didn't laugh. Not this time. Because in the pit of her stomach, something was shifting. Something new, terrifying, and real.
She liked Marc.
But she wasn't over Julian.
And somehow, both feelings could exist in the same heartbeat.