A memory

Logan -

I stared at the ceiling, my room cloaked in darkness except for the faint glow of the city lights seeping through the blinds. Sleep wasn’t coming—not tonight. My mind kept circling back to the same thoughts repeatedly. Isabelle.

I turned onto my side, hoping that a change in position would somehow trick my brain into shutting off. But no matter how I lay, her face crept back into my mind, her eyes flashing with anger and resentment.

I rubbed my face with both hands, frustration gnawing at me. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. I sat up, throwing off the covers. Sleep was impossible. My mind wasn’t letting this go, so I might as well stop pretending.

Without really thinking about it, I found myself getting up and walking towards the closet. At the top shelf, buried under some old boxes and a forgotten gym bag, was something I hadn’t touched in years. A diary.

I hesitated for a moment, my hand hovering over the dusty stack. Did I really want to go back there? To relive that time? But something in me—the same guilt that had been eating away at me for years—compelled me to pull it down.

I sat back on the bed, holding the diary in my hands.

Flipping through the pages, I stopped on a random entry. The date at the top was from junior year. I skimmed the first few lines.

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July 2015

I balanced my lunch tray carefully, trying not to spill the sad excuse for pasta I had grabbed from the cafeteria line. Junior year had already been challenging enough, and the last thing I wanted was to stand out for any reason.

I spotted Jimmy and Patty sitting at our usual table near the back, where we could observe the chaos without getting pulled into it. I slipped into my seat, letting out a relieved sigh as I sat between them.

"Finally," I muttered, stabbing my fork into the pasta.

Jimmy was in the middle of animatedly explaining the latest developments in his science project. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, his excitement making his words tumble out at rapid speed. "So, for the science exhibition, I'm building this robot that can navigate obstacles. It's based on ultrasonic sensors, and I'm hoping to incorporate some..."

Patty interrupted, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Jimmy, you lost me at 'robot.' Just tell us—does it shoot lasers or something cool?"

Jimmy rolled his eyes but grinned. "No lasers, unfortunately, but it’s going to blow people's minds; just wait."

I smiled as I half-listened, picking at my lunch while Patty twirled a lock of her hair. We were comfortable, safe in our little bubble of nerdy conversations and inside jokes.

And then, as if summoned by some unspoken rule of high school misery, Patty suddenly froze mid-sentence. Her eyes darted to something over my shoulder, and her face twisted in dread.

"Oh no," she whispered, her tone laced with warning. "Don’t turn around, Isabelle."

I didn’t need to. I knew exactly who was approaching. The air shifted around us; the laughter from a group I desperately wished would vanish into thin air, growing louder.

The "cool kids."

Logan Sinclair, with his annoyingly perfect girlfriend trailing by his side. They walked like they owned the school—because, in a way, they did.

I kept my head down, focusing on my pasta, hoping they’d just walk past without noticing me. Maybe, for once, I’d be invisible. Just a girl eating her lunch, minding her own business.

No such luck.

As they neared, the surrounding chatter quieted. I could feel their presence, even though I refused to look up. My stomach knotted, my palms sweaty around my fork. Please, just keep walking; I begged silently. Please.

But then I heard Logan’s voice—too close.

“Oops.”

A cold splash hit me out of nowhere, drenching my shirt and the side of my tray. I gasped as the icy liquid soaked through the thin fabric, my heart hammering in my chest. The clatter of Logan’s empty drink cup hitting the floor felt like an echo in the suddenly silent cafeteria.

“Oh, man, I’m so clumsy,” Logan said, his voice dripping with fake innocence. “Sorry about that, Isabelle.”

I could feel eyes on me—everyone’s eyes. The sting of humiliation burned hotter than the wet fabric sticking to my skin. I looked up, my face flushed, to see Logan grinning like the Cheshire Cat, his arm wrapped casually around his girlfriend’s waist. She giggled like it was the funniest thing in the world, while the others in his group snickered, some trying to hide it, others not even bothering.

God, I wanted to disappear. To melt into the floor or become invisible. I wanted to cry, but I wouldn’t—no, I couldn’t let that happen. Not here. Not in front of him.

I clenched my teeth and forced a tight-lipped smile, my hands shaking as I wiped the drink off my tray, trying to salvage what was left of my lunch.

"Man, they are big !" Trent, Logan's stupid sidekick, commented.

I looked down and realised that the wet spots on my white shirt had become transparent and my bra was clearly visible underneath. I could feel their eyes on me. I felt my face flush with embarrassment as I quickly crossed my arms over my chest, hoping to hide the revealing stains.

"How pathetic ! Why are you looking at that hag?" Alison, Logan's annoying girlfriend, commented.

"Don't worry, baby, my eyes are only for you." He was grinning at me with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Go away, Logan !"

I snapped, feeling a mix of anger and humiliation. Logan just chuckled and walked away with Alison, leaving me to deal with the aftermath of their juvenile prank.

As they walked away, their laughter trailing behind them like some cruel soundtrack to my embarrassment, I felt the familiar lump rise in my throat. The sting of the drink on my skin was nothing compared to the sting of humiliation.

Patty leant over, her voice soft with concern. “Are you okay?”

I swallowed hard, forcing the tears back. I wasn’t about to give him satisfaction. “Yeah,” I croaked, though it felt like a lie. “I’m fine.”

But as I sat there, staring down at my ruined lunch and my soaked shirt, I wasn’t sure I believed my own words.