The morning was clearer than it felt.
The sun broke through gray clouds, casting bright patches on the wet cobblestones, making puddles glitter in the schoolyard as if nothing had happened. Only inside me was it as gray as any rainy day. The air smelled of damp concrete and chalk, of a day pretending to be light.
Fiona gently nudged me with her elbow as we walked across the yard. "You look like you're about to collapse again."
"I'm fine," I mumbled, pulling my jacket tighter.
"'I'm fine,'" repeated Jonas, who was walking ahead of us tossing a ball in the air, "is girl code for 'nothing is fine.'" He caught the ball behind his back, grinning proudly.
I twisted my mouth but didn't answer. Mira, quiet as always, raised her camera and took a photo of them both – Jonas with his exaggerated posing, Fiona with raised eyebrows. It clicked softly, like a period at the end of a sentence that never quite ends.
