Mechanical Bull & Zombie Eyes

I was basically a zombie by third period, thanks to staying up until 3 AM doomscrolling through Ruby's Instagram. She'd posted twelve photos with some random girl from Jefferson High, captions full of inside jokes I didn't understand. We'd been best friend since sixth grade, and now suddenly I was seeing this whole other side of her life.

"You're spying on her again," said Maya, sliding into the seat next to me. She didn't even look up from her phone.

"I'm not spying. I'm monitoring. There's a difference."

"You're being creepy, Marcus. Ruby's allowed to have other friends."

That was the thing — Ruby wasn't just having other friends. She was becoming someone else, and I couldn't tell if I was scared she'd leave me behind or scared I'd never catch up.

Friday night, the annual Fall Fest took over the rec center. I went because Maya said Ruby would be there, which honestly? Not my finest moment. But I needed to know what was actually going on.

I found her near the mechanical bull, watching some guy from the football team get thrown off after three seconds. She looked different — not her clothes or hair, but something in her posture. More confident. Less like the girl who'd cried on my shoulder when her dog died.

"You gonna ride?" she asked, spotting me before I could duck away.

"Uh, no. Hard pass."

"Come on. I dare you."

"That's bull, Ruby. You know I can't even ride a real bike without falling."

She laughed, and it sounded like the old Ruby. "Since when do you care about looking stupid?"

Since I realized I was running out of time to figure out who I was without you as my reference point.

The operator strapped me on. I lasted 1.7 seconds before flying off into the padding, and Ruby caught me, both of us cracking up. But something shifted when I looked at her — the way she was watching me, really seeing me, like she was waiting for something.

"I joined the art program," she said quietly, while some sophomore in a hoodie climbed onto the bull. "That's where I've been after school. With people who actually get it."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I thought you'd think it was dumb. You always say art's not a real future."

The words hit me like a physical thing. I'd been so busy worrying about her leaving that I hadn't noticed I was the one pushing her away.

"Show me your stuff," I said. "Like, right now. Pull up your portfolio."

Her face lit up, and for the first time in weeks, I felt like I was actually awake instead of just running through the motions of my life.

"You're not gonna believe this," she said, tapping her phone screen. "But I painted this portrait of you last month. You look like a zombie, but, like, a cute one."

I laughed, and something in my chest unlocked.

"We're good, right?" she asked, and the uncertainty in her voice made my heart hurt.

"Yeah," I said. "We're good. But next time you're keeping secrets from your best friend, at least make it something more interesting than art class."

She shoved me, and I shoved back, and somewhere behind us, the mechanical bull kept spinning, throwing people off and picking them back up, over and over again.