Chapter Three

BROKEN HEARTS, BRUTAL TRUTHS & A GIRL WHO CAN'T SIT STILL

The bell rang at exactly 3 p.m., its shrill echo slicing through the last stretch of Professor Adams’ lecture. Bags zipped, chairs scraped, and the classroom erupted into the usual after-school chaos. Professor Adams called after us, reminding everyone about next week’s test, but my mind barely absorbed it. My phone buzzed.

Kathy: Come to our spot. Now.

No emoji. No explanation. Something about that now made my feet move faster. Someone somewhere was emotionally bleeding. I hurried outside, weaving through students until the school’s old giant tree came into view. The tree was famous for three things: shade, privacy, and emotionally charged life crises.

“Hey guys...” The greeting died halfway out of my mouth.

Kathy leaned against the tree trunk with her arms folded, jaw tight. Patricia and Ann sat on a fallen tree stump. And then there was May. Sweet, bright May… staring blankly at the ground, fingers clutching the hem of her top like it was the only thing keeping her together. The mood was heavy. Unmoving. Airless.

“What’s going on?” I demanded, my stomach sinking. I was already fearing the answer.

Kathy exhaled sharply. “It’s May.”

I looked at May. She wasn’t just sad. She was hollow. Empty. Fidgeting with the hem of her top, staring at the ground like it was more interesting than breathing. She didn’t even seem to notice I had arrived.

I dropped my bag into Ann’s lap. She squealed a complaint, which I ignored, and crouched in front of May. “May? Look at me.” Nothing. Not even a blink.

I tried again, softer. “Talk to me, May.” Still nothing.

“Okay, what happened?” I looked up at the others.

Ann sighed. “It’s Joseph. He, uh… ended things last night.”

I blinked. “Their anniversary was last night...”

“Exactly,” Ann replied grimly. “He waited until she dressed up, showed up like a happy puppy, took her out, and dumped her across a fancy dinner table.”

My jaw dropped.

Kathy scoffed, furious. “And for what? Because, according to him, May was ‘too sweet’ aka boring and too predictable, and he needed… ’excitement’.” She spat the words like poison.

I straightened slowly. “I’m sorry… what? Too sweet? Are we in a different universe? Since when did being a decent human become a federal offense? The world of men is so messed up!”

I sank back down and pulled May into my arms. She trembled, finally breaking. Tears spilled freely, warm and gut-wrenching, against my shoulder. “May, listen to me,” I whispered, stroking her hair. “This says nothing about you and everything about how tiny that boy’s confidence is. He doesn’t deserve you. If anything, thank God it happened now and not ten years later when he’d pull this stunt right before a mortgage payment.”

That earned a small laugh from May. “There it is,” I smiled. “My girl.”

Patricia leaned in and whispered loudly, “Also, this breakup is honestly character development. Now you can join the ‘Men Are Weird’ club officially.”

“I knew that guy was trash,” Kathy said, stepping forward. She crouched in front of May, lifting her chin gently. “You are beautiful. You are kind. You are everything he clearly doesn’t deserve. If he thinks sweetness is a flaw? Good. Let him go chase chaos. He’ll get burnt. And this...” she shook her softly, but firmly, “does NOT define you. You have us. He is not the world. He’s… well… Joseph.”

“Joseph, who wears loafers without socks,” Patricia added. We groaned. “What? Someone had to say it.”

May sniffled as I handed her my handkerchief. She wiped her tears miserably.

“I know what you need,” Ann announced dramatically. Hooking her arms through May’s, she gently pulled her up. “We’re taking you out tonight. Mandatory. Non-negotiable. Like detox but with glitter.”

May nodded weakly, eyes red and swollen. “Okay.”

“Good,” Ann said triumphantly. “We’re going to burn all those Joseph calories off your spirit till the morn.”

May blinked. “Tonight?”

“Yes, tonight,” Patricia chimed in, linking arms with her other arm. “We’re dragging you out until Joseph, who...?” She feigned memory loss.

May cracked a tiny smile. “You’re all crazy.”

“And you love us,” Kathy said, smacking a kiss on her cheek.

We gathered our bags and started walking toward the school gate. I almost forgot to breathe when I glanced at my watch.

“Oh crap.” I nearly swallowed my tongue.

“What now?” Patricia asked suspiciously.

“Amy,” I whispered in horror. “It’s Thursday.”

Patricia raised a brow. “Let me guess. That means you’re ditching us.”

“No! I mean—okay—yes. But listen...” Ann groaned. Kathy rolled her eyes. May looked hurt.

“Guys, you know I promised her mum I’d tutor her every Thursday,” I explained quickly. “And the exams are coming. Her grades are…” I winced. “Tragic.”

“Yeah, yeah. Books, books, books,” Patricia muttered. “Do we matter at all?”

“Come on, chill,” Kathy said, though her tone wasn’t fully forgiving. “It wouldn’t kill you to relax once in a while. You never go out with us as it is. Always one bookish excuse after another.”

“Actually,” May sniffed, “I would like you there. But I get it if you can’t.” Guilt stabbed me in the stomach.

“I swear I’m not running away,” I insisted. “I also have that housing project for my dad’s friend, and I’m stuck on a single design that refuses to make sense. My brain is crying.”

“Cancel,” Ann insisted. “Just say you’re sick.”

“Oh, I would love to, trust me,” I admitted. “I’d love to quit entirely. But I promised her mum, and now I’m trapped. And honestly, Amy doesn’t even care that her grades are auditioning for horror movies. She hates homework. And books. And numbers. And me.”

“Wait,” Ann asked, “how did Amy’s mom even find out you had good grades?”

I exhaled. “My big mouth, that’s how. Long story short: she overheard my Dad and me talking about my grades. Next thing I know, I’m a Thursday tutor.” 

I hugged May tightly. “I’ll make it up to you. Please go out with them. Distract your mind. Laugh. Take pictures. Overshare. Talk their ears off. You need it. Oh, and send pictures. Lots of them.”

“Well,” Kathy grinned, “enjoy tutoring the spawn of Satan.”

“Please,” I snorted. “Satan behaves more.” They laughed, and even May cracked a tiny smile.

“Nobody let Ann pick the club. Not after she once dragged us to a place that smelled like expired decisions.” Patricia announced as we all moved to the front gate.

“You needed to see that place, Didi.”

Ann gasped. “It was retro!”

“It was rotting,” Patricia corrected, and we all burst into laughter as we exited the school building. We waved goodbye, and I took the opposite direction.