Young Writers Society

Finnley couldn't focus that entire class- it was exceptionally strange for him, because he was always paying closer attention than anyone could guess at. He was worried about Mia, and some of the girls who had been crowding him at lunch along with Sylvie were shooting him sidelong glances across the room when the teacher's back was turned. They had an air of smugness about them, and Finnley was sour about the whole situation.

Mia had clearly taken Finnley's silence as intentional, as she sent a final text with a sort of iciness near the end of the period. He checked his phone during the passing period, only to see the two accusing messages.

"I can't believe that she just flirted with you for a few minutes and you agreed to go to homecoming with her! What we need to do is so much bigger than a stupid high school dance."

"I see."

She ignored every text he sent during the periods afterwards, telling her that what she had thought didn't actually happen. Finnley tried to convey this to her using all sorts of different angles, but nothing got a response from her. He made such an effort that his next teacher had to take away his phone for the period, forcing him to surrender to Mia's painful silence.

Finnley thought she would come around and realize that Sylvie was just lying, but it didn't happen. She had turned cold and empty towards him, talking with others instead. Her vicious and meaningful glares during their shared gym period were enough to send him fleeing to the bathroom, where he hid, waiting out the rest of the school day. When the final bell rang, signaling the end of the day, he waited until the noise of people passing died down before slipping out of the restroom. The door closed behind him with a gentle thud.

He walked towards his locker with a sort of wearying defeat. He didn't know of a way to reach Mia, to tell her what had really happened. And he certainly couldn't even begin to try with Sylvie following him around throughout the day. Finnley knew he should go over to her house, where he could talk it out with her, but at the same time he hated the thought of confrontation. Maybe he should put it off; maybe she would calm down and realize that the story she'd accepted of Finnley going to homecoming with Sylvie didn't agree with everything else she knew about him.

"Hey," a voice called, echoing down the hall. Finnley paused. He could immediately tell it wasn't Mia. He popped the lock off the door to his locker, then turned around. A girl stood nearby, wearing a lacy blue top.

"You're one of Sylvie's girls, aren't you?" he said. The words had slipped from his brain down to his tongue and out his mouth before he could decide to take them back. His right hand closed tightly about the lock as he inwardly cursed himself for the insensitive remark. Plenty of girls in school dressed like that; it didn't mean she was a part of Sylvie's posse.

However, she replied with folded arms and tossed out, "I am." Finnley started to reply, but she held up a single hand. "But just because I am doesn't mean you should judge a group of people based on one individual. Do you blame an individual for decisions their countries made centuries ago? Or all dogs just because one dog bit your friend? It's true that others in Sylvie's group are cruel, but you don't know them as individuals. And I haven't done anything like that," she added, after a moment.

When Finnley didn't reply, the girl looked a little uncomfortable and ran a hand through her hair. It was an ash brown color, and had violet streaks of dye. "You look so much like..." she murmured, then trailed off into nothing, shaking her head thoughtfully.

"I'm sorry," Finnely said, shaking himself out of his stupor. Best to get it over with. "I didn't mean to make assumptions about you."

"It's alright, Finnley. I'm used to it," she said with a smile. It seemed to him that she was a little bit relieved. She shifted from foot to foot, looking awkward in tight blue jeans. "Maybe wearing the same things as everyone else just makes me feel a bit bolder. Like I'm part of something."

"How do you know my name?" he asked, bewildered. He tried to figure out the rest of what she'd said, but he couldn't understand how wearing clothes that were popular could make anyone bolder. Finnley thought it would make a person more afraid; he wore his sweatshirts because it made him feel safer, less out in the open.

The girl shrugged, casually walking closer. "How could anyone not, after what happened today? Sylvie's interests are the group's interests, whether they like it or not. Though, I must say, it's not you she's interested in."

Finnley was taken aback. "I beg your pardon?" He wasn't entirely sure what to make of this girl. Why was she taking to him, of all people? Was this a part of Sylvie's plan- make him think that she was a better person worthy of consideration by sending someone he felt at ease with? Because it was true; he felt oddly at ease with this strange girl.

"It's about your friend, Mia," she said, shrugging one shoulder. "There was something... something in her past. Between Sylvie and Mia. She's always been awfully mad about it, but now she thinks she can get at Mia through you, and finally get revenge. I really don't know what she did."

Finnley furrowed his brows. He was relieved to know it wasn't actually about getting him to go to homecoming, but it was about Mia, and he was worried for her friend. He hadn't seen anyone hit a nerve in her before now, and it wasn't something he wanted to think about. He needed to get to her, to say something.

Finnley grabbed the things he needed from his locker, stuffing them into his backpack with a new kind of energy. "Thank you... what was your name?"

"Monica Black," she said.

"Monica," Finnley repeated, slowly closing his locker. "Thank you for telling me, Monica," he said, but when he turned around, she had disappeared.