Walking Away

I felt like a zombie walking into Kyle's backyard bash, running on two hours of sleep and three energy drinks. Finals week had turned my brain into mush, but Jenna had promised tonight would be legendary.

The pool area was packed—senors I barely recognized, neon floats, music thumping so hard I could feel it in my teeth. I spotted Jenna immediately, holding court on a lounge chair like she owned the place.

"There she is!" Jenna grabbed my arm, her perfect smile not quite reaching her eyes. "Everyone, this is Maya—she's basically a genius, she got a 1560 on her SATs."

I stiffened. She knew I'd gotten a 1320.

"Jenna, stop," I said quietly.

"What? I'm hyping you up!" She laughed, but it sounded sharp. "Oh my god, you're so sensitive sometimes. It's just a joke."

The old me would've laughed along, would've let her tell whatever version of reality served her ego. Jenna collected friends like trophies, reshaping our stories to make herself the main character. I'd spent three years letting her.

But something in me snapped. Maybe it was the sleep deprivation talking, or maybe I'd just finally had enough.

"That's bull, Jenna." My voice shook but I didn't stop. "You know that's not my score. Why do you always do that?"

The conversation around us died. Someone's phone pinged.

Jenna's face hardened. "Wow, okay. Someone's dramatic tonight."

"I'm done being your side character," I said, louder than I intended. "Find someone else to lie about."

I walked out, leaving my phone number in three group chats and three years of friendship behind. The night air hit my face, cool and real. I texted my mom to pick me up early, feeling lighter than I had in months.

Some friendships are like zombies—dead long before you're ready to admit it, dragging you down until you finally find the courage to put a bullet through the heart of what used to be alive.

I wasn't just surviving anymore. I was finally, actually, living.