Priscilla's attire was composed of vibrant blue polo shirts, each accented with yellow highlights on the collar and sleeve cuffs, adding a cheerful brightness to her look.
On the left chest of her shirt, the word "JOSEPHINE" was embroidered in bold yellow letters, standing out proudly.
"Are you sure you're alright, ma'am?" Priscilla asked, her tone laced with concern.
"I'm fine," I replied, nodding as I tried to endure the sudden, pounding headache.
Was this punishment from the gods for lying to my mother? I certainly hope not.
"It looks like we're around the same age, so you can drop the formalities, please."
"Sure. If there's nothing wrong, then I'll get going," Priscilla said, maintaining a polite but obviously forced smile.
"Okay," I said as she turned and walked away.
Her expression wasn't a happy one. She was hiding it—I could tell something was bothering her. Probably something to do with school. Her surname, Josephine, was also familiar to me.
If I remembered correctly, it was the name of a renowned pharmaceutical company, Josephine Healthcare. They were recently acquired by Williams Technologies, which didn't come as a surprise.
Still, I doubted she was connected to them; if she were, she wouldn't be working part-time here.
My thoughts were interrupted when Jasmine appeared in front of me, smiling cheerfully. Her sudden presence startled me so much I nearly jumped out of my skin.
"Jaz! Don't scare me like that!" I exclaimed, clutching my head as the sharp ache intensified.
Jasmine chuckled, clearly amused. "You seemed troubled, so I thought I'd check on you with a surprise! Are you really alright?"
"I'm fine," I insisted, trying to mask my discomfort despite the relentless headache. "Let's keep playing."
Her expression shifted to one of concern. "Mary, you're sweating buckets. It's literally dripping onto the floor. You're not okay. Stop pretending you're fine. It's okay to let your guard down."
I appreciated her concern, but vulnerability was something I simply couldn't allow myself to show.
My mother had drilled that into me for as long as I could remember: to stay strong in the face of others and never expose my weaknesses.
She didn't want me to end up like my father—cowardly and pathetic, in her eyes.
Ever since, I had forced myself to act as though nothing could faze me. I had to. I couldn't afford to disgrace myself before the gods. This headache—it had to be their punishment.
"Mary," Jasmine said firmly, crossing her arms. "You're not fooling me. You need to take a break, and playing arcade games isn't going to help. Brooklyn Bagels and Café is nearby. Let's go."
Before I could protest, she grabbed my arm and dragged me out of the arcade. Humiliation washed over me. I felt exposed, as though I'd failed to live up to my mother's expectations. The thought of her worry pierced my heart.
My old friends and even my ex had told me it was normal for humans to be vulnerable. But I couldn't accept that—it wasn't something I believed in.
Vulnerability only brought misery, just as it had for my mother when my father abandoned us.
With a resigned sigh, I tried to push past the throbbing pain in my head. "Fine."
———
My headache started to subside as I bit into a donut, the sweetness offering a small comfort. Jasmine sat across from me, her concerned gaze unwavering.
She didn't believe me when I insisted I was fine, though I was oddly grateful for her worry.
She reminded me of Caitlyn—a painful reminder of how my obsessive focus on studying had driven her away. I wasn't about to make the same mistake twice.
Somehow, I had to find a balance between academics and my personal life. But the thought of failing my subjects because I became too lax terrified me.
It was exhausting, trying to juggle it all.
The endless swirl of thoughts in my head felt overwhelming.
"Do you want to talk about anything?" Jasmine asked softly, her eyes searching mine with genuine concern.
I hesitated, then nodded, determined to steer the conversation away from the chaos inside me. "Yeah. That arcade worker—her last name is Josephine. Do you think she's related to Josephine Healthcare?"
Jasmine sighed, her shoulders sagging slightly as disappointment flickered across her face. "I was hoping you'd talk about your stubbornness and what happened earlier," she said, pausing when she noticed my determined silence.
"Whatever. Yes, she's related to Josephine Healthcare. Her name is Priscilla Josephine. She goes to Neverwhere High on Staten Island. She's still in high school because she skipped a year, but she's incredibly bright and is set to accelerate again soon. Even though her family is rich, she works part-time to escape her parents' controlling environment."
I blinked, startled by the flood of information. "How do you even know all this? Have you been stalking her when we're not hanging out?"
Jasmine drummed her fingers on the table in a rhythmic pattern. "Maybe. I couldn't help being curious," she admitted, then leaned closer, her gaze sharp. "Speaking of her—don't you think she's kind of like you, Mary?"
"What are you talking about?" I asked, an uneasy knot forming in my stomach.
"Controlling parents," Jasmine said softly, her voice laced with seriousness. "The way you acted earlier—that was because of your mother. I know how much she controls your actions, but you don't see it. You're like a puppet, and she's the puppeteer. Mary, you're your own person. You don't have to—"
"Stop!" I shot to my feet, the chair scraping harshly against the floor.
My voice was sharp, my hands trembling with a mix of anger and unease.
"Don't talk about my mother like that. I'm doing all of this to make her happy—to make up for that bastard father of mine! If you keep insulting her, Jasmine, I'll cut ties with you, just like I did with everyone else!"
Jasmine held my gaze, her expression steady and unyielding. "I'm only stating the truth, Mary. Do you really think I'm too stupid to notice how unhappy you are with the way you live your life? Or how terrified you are of failing your subjects, which is why you bury yourself in libraries, studying nonstop? Every time we hang out, you look more exhausted, yet you refuse to stop because of your mother. You're trapped in your own fear, and that's not healthy."
Her words struck a nerve, unleashing a wave of anger I could no longer contain.
I grabbed her by the collar, my voice trembling with raw emotion. "And you're just now deciding to tell me this!? Is that what you've been thinking every time we're together? Unlike you, I don't have the luxury of sitting back and analyzing everyone like some creepy observer! You're just like the rest of my so-called friends who judged me and my mother! I thought you were different, Jasmine. I really did. But I was wrong, and I hate being wrong!"
Jasmine didn't flinch.
With a calmness that only fueled my frustration, she pushed my hand away. Before I could react, she pinned me firmly against the table. Her grip was strong, but it wasn't harsh—it was steady, deliberate.
Her eyes, however, betrayed the pain behind her actions.
"As your friend, I'm trying to help you see the truth about how you're living your life!" Her voice rose, brimming with both desperation and frustration. "I understand that you want your mother to be happy. But what about you? Are you happy? Do you even enjoy studying? Do you ever want to try anything else? I saw the way you lit up playing those arcade games—it was like watching a kid experiencing real fun for the first time. You weren't reminiscing about your childhood, Mary. You were creating it. How can I, as your friend, ignore how much pain you're in!?"
She released me abruptly, and I shoved her back, my chest heaving with a mix of anger and confusion.
"You don't have the right to judge me, Jasmine. You're not my mother!"
"And that's exactly the problem," she said quietly, her voice trembling with emotion.
I didn't give her a chance to say more. I turned on my heel and stormed out of the café, ignoring the stares of the workers who had witnessed our confrontation.
The weight of Jasmine's words lingered, pressing down on me with a suffocating heaviness.
I couldn't shake the unease that followed, her voice echoing in my mind long after I'd left.