Yooo, it's good to be back, rested, and recovered from corona lol

It took me out of the writing game for a long time, but this week I got struck with inspiration, and with nothing else to do, I took time to write and write, and I can finally bring you chapter 8. Which, to be honest, has the first scene I thought of and from which I built the plot of the story. So I'm happy to have been able to write it after so long.

As always, special thanks to the readers that are kind enough to leave a review:

STR2D3PO: Indeed, she's being too hard on herself, which is something she might have to eventually face and come to terms with. And we'll have to wait and see what's going on with Sam and her friend.

FanficFan920: Yup! All stories are interconnected so what happens in one may have huge ramifications on someone else's story. And we'll see what's up with Carol's mom!

Jeff: Thank you so much for the comment! Glad you liked it!

Imagaco: That's a very interesting theory. Unfortunately, that's something that will require many, many stories of development to get to the bottom of it, so I can't say much about it. Hope I can eventually get around to exploring it.

Chapter 8:
When there was me and you.

"Get ready," she warned me with some annoyance. "My mother can be… a bit too much, sometimes."

I don't know what it was that I expected to find after Carol's warning. I tried to visualize her mother as the sound of the high heels drew closer, announcing her arrival like Mongol war drums.

I would probably meet a businesswoman taking calls every five seconds, wearing formal, fancy clothes, who would glare at me as soon as she smelled my cheap perfume or saw my worn-out sneakers. Or maybe a woman obsessed with the horoscope and Feng Shui, criticizing the disharmony of the colors of my clothes and my short hair. One way or another, I was sure to meet a flamboyant woman who would quickly find some reason to despise me.

Not even my wildest fantasies would have prepared me for what happened.

"Carol, dear, I'm glad to see you," she said, oddly enough, before she actually got to see her, as she opened the study door and walked inside.

Carol's mother looked… like a normal mother. Her face and long blond hair were almost identical to those of her daughter, barely wearing a wrinkle or two that gave away her age. She was a bit shorter than Carol, but her hips and legs had more generous curves, showing that she was both a mother and seemed to exercise.

"Is this how Carol will look in a few years? Oh my God…" I thought, swallowing hard and trying desperately to think like a good Christian girl, pushing away impure thoughts.

She was wearing high stilettos, white jeans that ended just above her ankles, and a light-blue blouse short enough to reveal a stunning silver necklace and suspiciously gold bangles. She had no earrings and barely showed a modest silver ring on her left hand. Her face, so similar to Carol's, was like a window into the future to appreciate what her daughter would look like in full happiness, as she smiled at both her and me from ear to ear.

"Good afternoon, mother," Carol said, nodding gently with her hands behind her back as if she was speaking to a sanitary inspector.

"Oh, I've told you not to call me that, it makes me feel old," the woman complained, waving a hand as if she could shoo the age away from her body with a gesture. Her gaze fell on me, and I immediately realized that I was still sitting in front of the piano that Carol said belonged to her mother "Oh, dear, I don't think I've seen you before! Nice to meet you! Call me Jeanine!"

She closed the distance between us in an instant and spread her hands. I got to my feet as fast as I could and tried to reach out a hand to shake it, but she grabbed me by the shoulders before I could react and pulled me into a tight hug.

Carol sighed and covered her face with her hands, shaking it from side to side. Meanwhile, all of my neurons started a massive chain reaction that led to the near-self-destruction of my central nervous system. I stopped breathing and processing stimuli for a second, staying frozen in place until I realized that I should at least respond to the gesture.

So ever-so-carefully, like I was unscrewing an outlet with a knife, I moved one of my hands to give her two gentle pats on the back. The absurd gesture seemed to satisfy her, and she immediately released me and stepped back to scrutinize me.

"What did you say your name was, dear?" She asked, clasping her hands in front of her chest like she was praying.

"Uh, I, uh…"

"Luna. Her name's Luna."

"What a beautiful name! And forgive me, but I don't remember seeing you in Carol's class pictures. Where do you know each other from?"

"We're both in the school orchestra," answered Carol, who unlike me could still speak like a normal person.

"Ooh, that's why you're here!" Jeanine said, tapping her forehead with a finger and making a face as if to say silly me! "I presume you play the piano, right?"

"Y-Yes, ma'am," I replied, nodding vigorously.

"Jeanine," she corrected me.

"J-Jeanine."

"She's an excellent performer," Carol added, giving me a soft smile. "You should hear her play sometime."

Hearing Carol pay me such a compliment in front of her mother filled my stomach with butterflies, making me all warm inside like a cup of hot chocolate on a winter afternoon. I smiled shyly at her as my right foot crawled up behind my other ankle.

Jeanine shifted her gaze from me to Carol, then back to me, and finally Carol once more.

"Wait a minute..." she said, narrowing her eyes, standing with arms akimbo, and smirking at her daughter. "Carol, is she your girlfriend?"

Part of me wanted to take the cup of coffee I had left on the table and fill my mouth with the already cold liquid, only to properly convey my astonishment by spitting it across the studio. I let out a little cry too, but it was so high and soft that only the dogs on the block must have heard it. I wanted to disappear, run away to the terrace and jump from there no matter how high I was or what awaited me on the ground.

But even if I had tried to do it, my body wouldn't have reacted, because the only thing I managed to do was tense each of the muscles in my body, stop my breathing, and turn to see Carol with a panicked look.

"MOTHER!" Carol shrieked, her face blushing faster and harder than I had ever seen anyone do, as she stomped her foot and began to move her hands from side to side. "WHY WOULD YOU SAY SOMETHING LIKE THAT?!"

"Oh come on, pretty girl I don't know, plays the piano, and that you bring home to rehearse?" She said, pointing at me with one hand. "You never bring any of your other friends home. And you can't fool me, you never let even your classmates at the conservatory use my piano."

"IT'S JUST…! SHE…! YOU CAN'T…! I...!"

Carol didn't seem to be in much better shape than me. Her embarrassment was evident, from her aforementioned crimson face to her erratic breathing and the violence of her little movements. I had never seen her so shocked or exalted.

For my part, I decided it was better to keep quiet and just wait for that little nightmare to end.

Of course, fate did not want to give me any rest, so Jeanine turned to see me once more with a big smile.

"I know my Carol can be a bit rough around the edges, but believe me that behind that nutshell there is a sweetness waiting to be found," she said, causing her daughter to cover her face with her hands again and take angry steps on her place, like a baby throwing a tantrum. "Anyway, I don't want to interrupt you girls. I see you already had a snack. Let me know if you need anything. Luna, nice to meet you! Hopefully the next time you come you'll be in a better mood to talk!"

"I, uh, I don't…"

"Alright, alright, I won't bother you anymore. Bye!"

And without further ado, Jeanine turned and walked away with a big smile on her face, closing the study door behind her.

Carol and I were left alone, and it took us several seconds to recover from… whatever it was that had just happened. We just stood there, facing each other but looking away to opposite corners of the studio, not daring to let our eyes meet. I was still trying to normalize my heartbeat and stop my legs from shaking, and she seemed about to implode, her fists clenched and shaking like an unstable nuclear reactor. Her lips were pressed into such a thin line that a hair couldn't have passed, and her face was still bathed in the color of her blush.

I kinda felt sorry for her, because since it was her mother, her shame must have exceeded mine by far. So, taking pity on her, I decided to break the ice with an innocuous and simple comment.

"The resemblance is uncanny," I commented, trying to sound casual.

She didn't seem to take it as a compliment, but at least it snapped her out of her stupor to growl and sit on the seat next to her cello, covering her face with her hands.

"That woman doesn't know how to have conversations with people outside the family," she commented, speaking against her palms.

I sat down at the piano once more, looking for an excuse to not have to look directly at her.

"She seems very… friendly."

"Luna. Don't try to defend my mother."

"Right, sorry."

"She's crazy. She doesn't know what she's talking about."

"...don't worry. I understand," I said, trying to hide the small twinge of pain those words produced in me.

"I mean, yeah, it's true, with you it's different than with the rest of my friends!" She admitted casually, forcing me to turn to see her once more. "But, I mean, she can't go around saying those things! Ugh! Like I would even hide a girlfriend or something like that, who does she think I am? Always so dramatic."

"Well… parents tend to see things that aren't there," I said, trying to sound diplomatic. "Maybe you should… you know… just tell her that you're straight?"

Carol looked up, meeting my eyes, and I could see a shadow of regret crossing her face.

"I… I'm not straight," she said.

I frowned. "But that time, at the game…"

Carol cleared her throat and sat up straighter.

"I said I liked boys," she explained, nodding gently, "but I never said that… Well, that I only liked boys."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Sorry if, uh, I gave you the wrong impression. I didn't know you that well back then, and I don't like to talk about my private life."

"No, no, you have every right not to. I shouldn't have asked. It was none of my business."

She sighed, picking up her cello and absently dragging her fingertips along the strings.

"Still, I… I wasn't entirely honest. I tried to sound distant on purpose. It wasn't very kind of me. I'm sorry."

"What do you mean?" I asked, not understanding what he meant.

"I… you know… I thought I was being too open with someone I didn't know that well," she explained, with a self-reproachful grimace. "I got carried away, and I shouldn't let that happen to me. I have… Ok, it sounds bad, but I have an image to keep, you know what I'm saying? I can't go around talking about my private life, or my sexuality, or those things."

I nodded but immediately regretted it. I tried to bite my tongue not to speak, but as always, my temper betrayed me, outweighing my common sense.

"I'm sorry but no, I don't get it," I said. "I understand not wanting to share personal things with people you don't know that much, but what do you mean by keeping an image?"

Carol sighed. She bit her lower lip for a few moments before looking at me with a certain sadness in her eyes.

"I have my whole life planned, Luna. My mother's family has a long tradition of super talented musicians. My uncle is a pro. Ever since I was little I knew that I had to follow in his footsteps, but do you have any idea how difficult it is? They all entered Juilliard and graduated with honors. Getting into that conservatory is extremely difficult. I visited it once when I was six years old, and I never forgot what everyone was like around there."

"What were they like?"

"Perfect. In every way. They dressed perfectly, they spoke perfectly, they weren't distracted by anything. Being at Juilliard is more than talent, it's also about image, how you present yourself, what you show to others, who you surround yourself with. It's something you build."

"A lie," I murmured, unable to contain myself.

Carol frowned but didn't seem particularly angry.

"It's not a lie. I don't pretend to be someone that I'm not, or that I like things that I don't. It's just being selective about which parts of myself I show to others. Everybody does it, Luna. Don't you have secrets that you don't tell anyone?"

I didn't know how to respond to that without feeling like a hypocrite. I was probably keeping the biggest secret in the entire school, hiding my true metahuman nature. So I just fell silent, nodding in agreement with her.

"There's nothing wrong about it. But still… I don't know, like I said, with you, I feel different. As if I'm not afraid to show you the Carol I hide from others."

She let out a somewhat ironic laugh, before brushing a lock of hair with her hand.

"It's weird, isn't it?"

"A little," I admitted, trying to smile. "But I'm not complaining. I think that Carol is pretty cool."

She smiled too.

"We should keep practicing," she said, turning to see the music sheets. "What was that pentatonic scale you played earlier?"

I tried to get all the mixed feelings that the conversation gave me out of my head so that I could concentrate one hundred percent on the music. Carol also focused, and for the rest of the afternoon, we were both authentic in our passion for music.

The days passed, and before I knew it, the date of the musical was almost upon us. Carol and I continued to rehearse at her home, meeting up to four times a week, which was a dream come true, honestly. I would get in her car and she would drive from school to her home, where we would spend a couple of hours focusing on the music we composed together, and then we would allow ourselves to have some time to talk about anything we wanted. We got to know each other much more than I could have ever imagined. Carol gave me her phone number! We didn't talk too much outside of our rehearsal hours, but having her number saved and being able to text her in the middle of class to ask if we could meet up after school felt wonderful.

After about three or four meetings, we managed to finish the revised scores, and when we showed it to Mr. Budden, he cried. We were proud of what we had accomplished, and in the first rehearsal we played for the rest of our classmates, the response was overwhelmingly positive.

My life was perfect. Everything seemed to be going well for me, and from the moment I woke up until I closed my eyes with my head on the pillow at night, a feeling of happiness accompanied me at every step. Chunk was giving me space again, Tabby didn't seem to hold a grudge against me for making Sam discourage her from using her powers, there were no new attacks at school. It was as if the stars had aligned on a path of peace.

The day after her hospitalization, Mazzy returned to school fully recovered and without any sequelae, and between Sam and I, we slowly managed to get her back to her old self. Or, well, the same but single. Sully didn't come to speak to me or Sam again, which I took as a good thing at first since Mazzy didn't need distractions but rather the time to recover from the deep emotional wounds he had inflicted on her.

Regarding Sam, something in the back of my mind told me that something wasn't quite right. She looked distracted lately, even a bit forgetful. Many times during our conversations I had to repeat myself or call her out to get her to respond. It was like she was constantly thinking about other things, but every time I asked her if something was wrong she assured me that everything was fine, that she was just a little distracted.

I wrote it off as the stress of midterm exams that were almost upon us and decided not to bother her too much about it. We were best friends, if it was something that really worried her, she would tell me without hesitation.

In short, everything in my life seemed to be working out for me. So I probably should have understood that all that happiness and positivity was just the prelude to devastating disaster.

It all started on a Friday, three days before the musical. Mazzy, Sam, and I were sitting in the cafeteria. Knowing that the long-awaited date was getting closer and closer had started to get on my nerves, making me overextend my verbiage and enthusiasm.

At the time, I was recounting the latest developments in the utterly and thoroughly professional relationship between Carol and myself.

"She texted me yesterday asking if I was watching that cooking reality show. What is it called?"

"Dessert Storm?" Sam said without looking me in the eye. Her head was resting on one of her hands, while with the other she used her fork to stir the food on her plate, without even tasting it.

"Yeah, that one!"

"The one we hate," she added, stabbing a chunk of food before taking it to her mouth without much enthusiasm.

"Well, it's not that I hate it," I clarified, "I never saw it. I just, you know, I didn't think it was my thing."

"But now that Carol mentioned it you wanna watch it?"

"I told her it didn't seem like my kind of show, and she started explaining to me the different participants and their stories, and well, to be honest, it sounds a lot more fun than I thought."

"Wow. I guess you'll start watching it, right? I'm glad you two have so many things in common all of a sudden."

"I know, I would've never imagined it!" I said with obvious joy, taking a sip of my Baja Blast.

Sam smiled at me, though she still looked distracted like she wasn't entirely focused on the wonderful developments in my relationship with Carol. Which was professional, of course. Yes, sir. Only two members of the orchestra building up a close relationship to improve our confidence when playing. Nothing weird (or romantic) at all.

At least Sam was considered enough to respond to what I was saying, even if she didn't look as happy for me as I assumed she would if she wasn't distracted by other things. I couldn't say the same for Mazzy, who hadn't even touched her lunch or spoken in all the time we've been sitting there in the cafeteria.

"Hey, you good?" I ended up asking her, already worried by her long silence.

Which continued as she kept ignoring me. Sam looked at me, raising an eyebrow, and waved a hand in front of Mazzy's eyes.

"Earth to Mazzy, are you there?" She asked, snapping her fingers right in front of our friend's bangs.

That seemed to wake her from the trance she was in, sitting up straighter and giving us a brief, apologetic look.

"Oh sorry, girls. I'm a little... distracted today."

"Anything you wanna share with your two beautiful friends, always so observant and concerned about the feelings of others?"

I smiled, slightly shaking my head. Sam always said the craziest things.

Mazzy took a deep breath before letting it out in a big sigh. She pushed the cafeteria tray away from her and began drumming the table with her fingers.

"I suppose… I should discuss it with you," she said, more to herself than to us. "Well... Sully and I talked last night."

I had reopened the bottle of Baja Blast to take another sip but immediately closed it to flip over on my seat, facing Mazzy head-on. Sam set her lunch aside as well, and we both directed our most concerned glances at our friend.

"Did he call you? Or were you texting?" Sam asked.

"He called me."

"Oh, wow."

"What did he say?" I wanted to know, anxiety growing inside me.

"The same thing he texted me so many times," she said quietly. "That he regrets everything. That he knows what he did was terrible. That he knows he betrayed me and that there's nothing he can do to make it hurt less or anything like that."

"At least he's not trying to defend himself," Sam pointed out, shaking her head.

"He's not making excuses," Mazzy continued. "He knows he ruined everything, and that even that bitch Chelsea is no more guilty than he is. I think he hates himself even more than I hate him."

"As he should."

"And well... he told me that he misses me too much. You too. That he doesn't believe that he can ever love someone else the way he loves me. And... he asked me to give him another chance."

Sam and I took a breath and drew back slightly, shocked at hearing those words. I bit my lip, not wanting to say what I thought about it.

"And what did you say?" Sam asked.

"That I would think about it."

"Think about it?" I said, incredulous. "But Mazzy… so soon?"

"It's not a matter of time. I still love him, and I know that despite… what he did… he loves me, too. Neither of those two things is going to change anytime soon. It's just, well, it's about whether I can forgive him or not. And I don't know what to do. I mean, what he did was terrible. He knows it, I know it, you know it. That's not an issue. I just… have to figure out if cheating is forgivable or not."

She covered her face with her hands, letting out a moan of near pain as if her heart was bleeding just thinking about it. Sam and I looked at each other trying to speak non-verbally to decide who should have their say first. I tried to beg her to do so, sensing that Mazzy wouldn't appreciate the advice I had to offer. Unfortunately, Sam didn't seem to have anything concrete to say, so I thought carefully about my words before they left my throat.

"Mazzy… at the end of the day, that's something you're gonna have to figure out yourself. But if you ask me... I think some things can't be forgiven."

She rested her hands on the table, her gaze fixed on the floor.

"Do you really believe that?" She asked me in a whisper. "Do you really think you can't forgive someone who really regrets what they did?"

"Sometimes the damage is too much to forgive," I commented, a great sense of guilt and pain gripping me, "and no apology they make can heal the wound they left."

"But maybe what heals us isn't their apology but the fact that we can forgive them," she countered. "What happened can't be changed, but… I don't know, Sully isn't perfect. Noone is. Isn't what we had worth fighting for? We never had any other problems, and he never pushed me to do anything I wasn't comfortable with. If I gave him another chance… if I could truly forgive him, maybe all the effort and work we put into our relationship wouldn't be wasted."

"Sounds like you already forgave him but you want our permission to tell him," Sam said, grimacing at the conflicting emotions colliding within her.

Mazzy didn't comment on it. I could only sigh.

"If you want to forgive him... then do it, it's your call. You don't have to ask us for permission."

"But would you support me, or would you think I'm an idiot?"

"We'll always support you," Sam assured her. "And neither of us knows what it's like to be in your shoes, so we'd never think you're an idiot. Just... think about it and do what you feel is the best for you. Right, Lunes?"

"Yeah, totally. You're our friend, Mazzy. We just want you to be happy."

Mazzy smiled and reached out to take us by the hands.

"Thanks, girls. You're the best."

"Yes. We are."

The three of us laughed at Sam's comment, and we raided our lunches again, knowing that we would have to go back to class soon.

"For the record," Sam said after a few long seconds of silence, looking at me with unexpected intensity, "I don't think there's anything that can't be forgiven. Not even the things that caused a lot of pain. Everything can be forgiven if the person accepts responsibility. And sometimes by forgiving, you can overcome the trauma."

Mazzy hummed with her mouth closed as if giving her tentative approval as she pondered it. Of course, she didn't understand that Sam was speaking to me, referring to a secret and a tragedy that could never be forgiven. I looked away, not wanting to have a repeat of that hackneyed discussion.

"Except kicking a dog," Mazzy finally said, nodding to herself. "Anyone who does that doesn't deserve forgiveness, like, ever."

"Oh, definitely," I said, grinning wickedly. "Someone with so little heart to kick a dog should never be forgiven."

"There's no punishment in Hell painful enough for their rotten souls."

The three of us started laughing.

"And what about people that listen to K-Pop?"

"Oh, don't get me started on those heretics…"

On Friday we had our last rehearsal before opening day, and for the second time, we rehearsed not in the orchestra hall but in the auditorium itself, where we would be playing in just three days. The members of the orchestra took our place in our pit while the guys from the theater club took over the set, with scenery and costumes included.

Mr. Budden took the position of our director, and Miss Bernardo sat in the middle of the auditorium as an average spectator. The only other person present was Sam, who ever since the attack on Mazzy had been attending my rehearsals to make sure I was safe. Besides, she had invited me to come over to her house after rehearsal to help her dye the cyan lock of her hair, paint our nails, and basically just have a good time. It had been several days since we hung out by ourselves, so I agreed without hesitation.

The rehearsal was wonderful, and I could sense the enthusiasm of every one of my orchestra colleagues. Their emotions permeated every note they played, running rampant and determined, allowing me to read them like open books. There was anxiety, yes, but also a confidence that I never remembered having felt in them all. They didn't hesitate, they weren't afraid of messing up. Everyone's spirits had skyrocketed in the past couple of weeks. We were all looking forward to the premiere with great expectation, and the fears that used to flood my classmates had been channeled into an overriding need to show the rest of the school what we had worked so hard to prepare.

The same could be said of the actors. In each song, I could notice the confidence and desire to show themselves in front of the rest of the school in their most artistic side. I supposed it was normal that people who joined the drama club to put on a play enjoyed the idea of showing their skills to the rest of the world. It was practically a requirement of craft, wasn't it?

Unfortunately, I couldn't read Luan's emotions, since her role didn't get to sing in the play, but without using my powers and barely being able to see her from the orchestra pit, I could tell that she did seem to suffer from the nerves. She made no mistakes in her lines, but her movements were stiff and robotic, and she delivered her dialogues like a computer's automatic translator, without inflection or feeling.

Her performance... wasn't stellar, I have to admit. None of her fellow actors seemed bothered, however. Once again, I couldn't help but feel that everyone believed that she was not worth giving sincere feedback or helping her improve. As if they could tolerate that her performance wasn't as good as the rest, because her role was small and didn't influence the story too much. I couldn't know for sure, but a part of me wouldn't stop feeling annoyed by the treatment they gave her.

By the time the rehearsal was over, not even the most cynical part of me could deny that, for a high school play, we had a very good act on our hands. We all cheered and congratulated ourselves, the teachers praising us with their compliments and words of support.

"Alan Menken would die to have his name in this play!" Mr. Budden said, clapping so hard his palms turned red, crying out loud with tears pouring down.

"My vision has been realized!" Miss Bernardo also celebrated, standing in her chair with both hands extended to the sky as if she were channeling the power of Thor. "The idiots of the Board will eat their words and will have no other choice but to finance my projects! Glory shall be mine!"

She continued to laugh like a maniac and Mr. Budden continued to cry with excitement. Neither of them officially ended the rehearsal, but the members of the two clubs decided to make the executive decision to leave them while they let out their emotions. The general moods of both clubs were at an all-time high, and as we prepared to pick up our stuff (and in the case of the guys at the drama club, take off their costumes), the happy conversations intermingled.

Carol was the first to approach me, walking straight toward me as I put away my notes.

"Excellent work," she said, resting her hands on the piano's tail.

"You were excellent too," I thanked, tucking the sheets under my arm and standing up, giving her a somewhat playful look. "As you would expect from a sweet nutshell."

Carol closed her eyes and sighed, shaking her head as a treacherous smile spread across her face.

"After the musical, I'm gonna have to kill you," she calmly pointed out. "You leave me no choice. I cannot allow that to be made public."

"Are you going to stab me with the bow of your cello?"

"I'm going to drive off a cliff and jump out of the car at the last minute, leaving you in the back seat."

I laughed out loud, getting beside her as we walked up the steps toward the exit.

"And why would I be in your car after the musical? We won't be practicing anymore after that."

For an instant, Carol frowned, as if that idea hadn't crossed her mind. The confusion and surprise left her face right away, however, showing a smile again.

"I'll just tell you that I have tickets to go see Mick Swagger," she concluded with a shrug.

"You know me too well, Pingrey."

"I like Mick Swagger, too," said a voice to my right, making us turn around.

Luan had approached without us noticing her, almost as if she had teleported to my side. Gone was her costume, now dressed in her casual clothes as if she had never been part of the rehearsal in the first place. Lately, she felt confident enough to approach and speak to me before and after rehearsals, albeit always with few words and without sharing too much about her personal life. It was the first time however that she spoke to me if Carol or someone else was by my side. Usually, she waited until I was on my own to do it.

I noticed that she looked a bit nervous. Her hands wouldn't stop moving, rubbing against each other like she was washing them with soap and water before supper. Her chin almost touched her chest, but she kept her gaze high so she could look at Carol and me.

If I had to guess, I would say that she wanted to say something but, for some reason, it scared her. Perhaps it was just her usual shyness pumped up to eleven since Carol was there. So, with that in mind, I smiled warmly at her to help her relax as the three of us continued walking towards the exit.

"Luan! Do you really like Mick Swagger? He's my favorite artist!"

"Yes, I… Well… I don't know all his songs, but I've listened to some, and… he's good."

"Not just good. He's the best musician of all time."

"Of all time?" Carol asked, raising an eyebrow. "Better than Bach or Chopin?"

I rolled my eyes, smiling at Carol's obvious attempt to annoy me.

"The day Bach and Chopin write songs with over three hundred million views, I'll be ready to have that conversation," I replied.

"Oh come on, that doesn't mean anything!" She said, shaking her head as if my argument was sacrilege. "Since when do visits equal quality?"

I was going to respond with a provocation, but Luan beat me to it.

"They don't, but does it matter to be good if no one ever pays attention to you? What good does it do if you're ignored by everyone?"

The little air of innocent rivalry that we had created between Carol and I immediately dissipated, being replaced by an obvious veil of concern for Luan.

"Well, it's not like Bach and Chopin are precisely ignored," Carol said softly.

"Yeah. And, like, Van Gogh died poor and ignored in his time but today everyone recognizes that he was a genius, right?" I added.

Luan smiled, but it was the saddest smile she had ever seen.

"And what did that do for Van Gogh?"

Neither Carol nor I knew how to respond.

The awkward pause would have extended as we continued walking in silence had it not been for someone clearing their throat to my right. The three of us turned to see Sam, who was sitting in her seat with her feet on top of the chair in front of her. Her arms were crossed over her chest and she was looking at me with a somewhat forced smile.

I couldn't help but feel guilty for almost missing her. It's not like I forgot about my best friend, just… You know, the conversation with Carol and Luan distracted me, and I wasn't looking where I was going. It was nothing serious. Sam would understand. Still, I felt terrible and disappointed in myself, so I tried to make up for my mistake.

"Sam!" I greeted her, perhaps with too much enthusiasm. "Come on, join the conversation."

My friend looked first at Luan, then at Carol, and finally at me. I watched her take a breath like she was preparing to dive off the highest diving board in the communal pool. Then she smiled once more, standing up with her hands in her pockets, and slowly approached the three of us.

Luan took a step back, allowing Sam to come by my side. The tension in the air was almost palpable.

"Ahem… Well, I don't think I ever formally introduced y'all, did I?" I said, trying to break the ice, "Carol, Luan, this is Sam, my best friend."

"Best friend since childhood," she added as if it were a Ph.D. "You know, the kind of friend you tell everything to and who you never ignore."

If she tried to be subtle about the fact that she was slightly angry, she wasn't doing a great job at it.

Luan remained silent, looking away, visibly uncomfortable with the situation. Carol managed to control herself, although I noticed how she stood straighter, her relaxed demeanor transfigured into the stony mask of stoicism with which she tended to address the rest of the world.

"Nice to meet you, Sam," she said, lowering her head gently. "Luna talks a lot about you."

Sam chuckled.

"The same could be said of you," she commented without much enthusiasm, immediately turning her attention to me. "Where were you going in such a hurry? I thought we'd be going to my house."

"Yeah, right!" I said, rushing to explain the situation. "Of course. We were just, you know, talking. I got a little distracted."

"Hmm. I see."

"Yeah, it's nothing. Don't worry."

"I'm not worried. Do I look worried?" She asked Carol, pointing a finger at herself and chuckling.

"Sam…"

"Okay, okay, maybe there's a small, tiny, teensy-weensy possibility that I may have been worried that you and Pingrey wanted to do a last-minute rehearsal. Which is more than understandable! The musical's in three days and you guys have only rehearsed together about twelve thousand five hundred times in the last two weeks."

I should have stepped in right there and firmly but kindly put an end to Sam's doubts and fears. I noticed that she was nervous and, for some reason, very defensive. I should have taken her by the hand, looked into her eyes, apologized for the distraction, said goodbye to Carol and Luan, and walked away with my best friend, assuring her that my priorities were clear. Even at that moment, I could feel that I should do something like that.

However, the confusion paralyzed me for more than a few seconds, and because of it, it was Carol who felt the need to clarify.

"Oh no, I think Luna and I have our parts figured out already. I've no intention of stealing another afternoon from her. Besides, I already have plans with some other friends."

"Other friends," Sam repeated, nodding softly as she looked down at her feet, dragging a boot against the carpeted floor. "Tell me, how are your cheerleader friends doing? Did they recover from the attack?"

Once again, I saw the smoke signs in the distance, but instead of putting out the fire as soon as possible, I let it grow.

"Sam…"

"They're fine," Carol replied, her hands clenching around the handle of her cello case. "They recovered well."

"What about Chelsea?"

"Sam!" I said, stepping between her and Carol, "I think that's enough. Let's go."

"I know it sounds pretty bad, but honestly, I wouldn't mind if she didn't fully recover," she said, looking over my shoulders at Carol.

"That's enough!"

"Did you know that your friend was sleeping with our friend's boyfriend?" She asked, already with visible anger and an accusatory tone. "Didn't it bother you? Or wasn't it worth ruining your reputation over that?"

I took her by the shoulders and drew her back a step. "Dude! Chill the fuck out!"

"I should go," Carol rushed to say, her voice sounding emotionless. "See you at the musical."

"Carol, wait, I…"

She didn't wait for me to finish the apology I was going to offer on Sam's behalf, walking briskly out of the auditorium.

Maybe I overreacted. Maybe my response wasn't the best. Maybe I should have let Sam and Carol figure out whatever was going on between them, whether or not they would settle their differences on their own, and stay out of it. After all, hadn't Carol told me long ago that neither of us was responsible for what our friends did?

And yet, watching her walk away clearly affected by Sam's words, I felt that much of the progress I had made in my relationship with Carol was dripping down the drain. How could I distance myself from my best friend's sayings? I loved Sam like a sister, I couldn't pretend that what she said was entirely detached from me. In a way, I had to take a side in the growing conflict between them, and choosing which side to support was not a decision I was willing to make at the time.

I was carried away by the frustration and discomfort of the bad moment that had just happened, and without stopping for a second to calm myself and reconsider my actions, I turned angrily on Sam.

"What the hell was that?"

"What? Didn't it ever occur to you to ask her if she knew about what they were doing to Mazzy?"

"If you're angry, go and take it out on Chelsea, don't drag Carol into this!"

Sam raised her hands and closed her eyes, shaking her head and with her arms trembling like they were about to explode.

"I can't believe you're defending her. I tried to support you, Luna, I seriously did. I know you've tried to convince yourself that Pingrey has nothing to do with what Chelsea did, but are you seriously going to tell me to my face that she's innocent?"

"She… she's not as close to Chelsea as you think," I said, more hesitantly than I would have liked.

"Ugh! There's no worse blind person than the one who doesn't want to see."

"Me? Blind? You're the one who gets carried away by stereotypes!"

"No, you're the one who doesn't see what's right in front of your face!" She yelled, stepping forward and poking me on the chest with a finger. "You're the one who doesn't realize that Mazzy feels betrayed and hurt by all the time you spend with Pingrey!"

The anger that was building inside me collapsed in a cloud of debris. It took me a few seconds to understand the bomb Sam had just thrown at me.

"Wait, what?"

"You only talk about her nowadays! Carol this, Carol that, and it never occurred to you to think how that would affect your friends! Do you think Mazzy finds it funny that you spend so much time with one of Chelsea's friends? Huh? Do you really think she had no idea what was going on? Do you really think she's innocent? Or is it just easier to go to her house and spend time with her if you convince yourself that she had nothing to do with it?"

"I ... I didn't know that ... Does Mazzy really...?"

"Of course you didn't notice," she complained, looking to the side, frowning with her lower lip quivering.

"B-But you're wrong! You don't know Carol, she…! She puts so much pressure on her, she's not—!"

"Oh, that changes everything, she puts a lot of pressure on herself!" She said, making air quotes with her fingers. "If only you were honest with yourself, if you could only admit that you know she was a part of it but you like her too much to care, if you at least had the decency to discuss it with her, I'm sure Mazzy would forgive you and give you her blessing to move forward with your relationship. But you're not even capable of doing that."

"There's no relationship. We're just—"

"Friends? Yeah, right. We are friends, but it's been a long time since you smiled at me the way you smile at her."

Once again I found myself speechless. That last sentence had sounded devoid of anger, conveying instead a great sadness. Suddenly, Sam's expression and manner seemed not to reflect irritation and frustrations that she had bottled up for days, nay weeks. Now I understood that she rather seemed to be struggling to get a grip on herself and not let out other kinds of emotions, ones that the always-positive Sam used to do her best not to show.

I was still mad at the scene she'd done with Carol, but Sam was, as she'd clarified, my best friend since childhood. Seeing her in that state worried me, and my heart didn't know whether to pay more attention to the feeling of anger or sympathy. And as if that weren't enough, there was also a third element that added to my confusing nebula of emotions: I knew exactly what time Sam was referring to. One not too far away, just seven months ago, when she was the main cause of my smiles and the recipient of all my love songs. The fact that she would mention it, even indirectly, raised red flags in my mind.

"Sam… is this really about Mazzy?" I asked, lowering my voice a bit. "Or is it about you?"

She sighed. She lowered her head for a few seconds and then raised it again to look at me with obvious pain in her eyes.

"You know what? I just remembered that I have to go do something far away from you and by myself, so I'm gonna have to cancel our plans this afternoon. Talk to ya later."

"Sam, wait!"

As soon as she started to turn around, I reached out a hand to grab her by the shoulder, but she reacted faster and slapped my hand away. I let out a little shriek at the brief pain I felt and rubbed the area where she had hit me. I looked at her in shock.

"Leave me alone," she said.

Without further ado, she strode away, pushing the doors open with more force than necessary and disappearing from my sight, leaving me standing as the echo of her footsteps in the hall faded away.

I forgot about everything around me. I didn't know if the rest of the people had noticed or not the scene that we had just put together. I didn't even care where Luan was, who at some point must have walked away because I could no longer see her by my side. All I was thinking about was my best friends, and the strange behavior they had shown lately.

Was that why Mazzy and Sam were distracted every time I talked to them about Carol? Did my friendship with her bother them? Had I been hurting them without realizing it?

My first reaction was to think that no, that there must have been another reason. It couldn't be that I didn't notice something as obvious as my best friends suffering because of me. There must have been another explanation. Or at least that's what I wished, because the alternative was that I had failed those closest to me, and I didn't like that alternative at all.

I shook my head. It didn't matter if I didn't like it, I had to face reality. Perhaps the situation wasn't as serious as Sam had made it seem, perhaps they didn't feel betrayed but the issue was rather a lack of communication between us. If so, then maybe there was still time to fix things, or at least prevent it from escalating any further.

Wasting no time, I ran after Sam. I found her briskly walking away down the path that led to the parking lot, and I yelled her name to stop her. She stopped short, and I saw her quickly rub her face before turning in my direction.

"I told you I wanna be alone," she reminded me as soon as I stopped close enough to hear her. "I need to chill by myself."

"And I need to know if you're okay."

I took a step forward, but she took one step back as well. I understood the message and stayed in my place.

"Do you really feel that I betrayed you?"

"You should ask Mazzy."

"I'm asking you."

"You didn't betray me. You can hang out and fall in love with whoever you want, I can't get in the way of that. I'm no one to judge."

"You're my best friend. You know it, don't you?"

"Of course I know," she said, lowering the intensity of her responses a bit. "You're also… the most important person to me. But that doesn't give me the right to decide who you spend your time with. No, I don't feel betrayed."

"So what did I do to you? Sam, I see it in your eyes, I know you. I can see that… I did something very wrong. I want to fix it, but I don't know how to do it if you don't tell me what's wrong."

She turned to the side.

"I really don't want to talk about it. I wanna go to my house."

"I don't want you to leave feeling like I don't care about you."

"I never said that."

"Then what is it? I need to know," I begged her. "I'm not letting you go until we fix this."

I thought it was a reasonable request to make, but that only seemed to make her angrier.

"I told you I don't want to talk! Leave me alone! I want to go home and sleep until I forget about all this."

"Your problems aren't gonna get solved if you just ignore them."

"Really? You're going to lecture me on how to deal with my problems?"

My fists clenched. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Luna, you've been blaming yourself for years for what happened to… you know. And every time Chunk or I try to have a conversation with you about it, you push us away and don't let us discuss it. Are you seriously going to try to tell me that I have to face my problems, after years of ignoring me when I tried to help you?"

I didn't appreciate that she used my mother's death as a shield to divert the conversation.

"This isn't about me!" I yelled, no longer concerned with staying calm.

"Well, maybe it—!"

Whatever she was about to say was lost when we both heard a hissing sound, and suddenly Sam started to cough, closing her eyes and covering her mouth with a closed fist. She hunched over and her legs gave out, staggering for a step or two before falling to her knees on the ground, where she continued coughing as if one of her lungs had collapsed.

"Sam?" I asked, taking a step towards her. "What—?"

"Don't! Stay away!" She yelled at me desperately in between her coughing fits, holding up a palm. I stopped immediately.

"What happened? What's wrong?"

"It's... it's the gas," she said, swallowing hard and breathing heavily, raising her head to look at me with terror in her eyes.

Those words paralyzed me. The gas? The drug that we had seen in the security videos? But that meant… I turned around. We were alone, with no one nearby, or at least no one I could see. Only students that were about a hundred feet away from us.

"Luna... Luna, go away, leave me," she asked, trying to crawl away from me.

I turned once more to see her. Her coughing fit seemed to be dying, but I noticed her whole body was starting to shake and she seemed to be sweating a lot. I had already witnessed twice what happened to my friends, and the damage that one drug could do to them. I wasn't going to let Sam go through that.

"I'm not leaving you."

Holding my breath, I reached over to Sam and grabbed her under her armpits, helping her move away from where the gas had seemingly affected her. I wanted to take her further away, but she started to squirm, and my arms weren't strong enough to carry her.

"G-Go away! Get out!" She asked me, her hands going to her head and beginning to mess up her hair, dropping her beanie.

"No! I'm gonna help you!"

And I meant it. I wasn't going to let anything bad happen to Sam. The first thing I had to do was get her help to prevent her condition from getting any worse, so I quickly grabbed my phone and called the police, immediately warning that there had been a new attack at the school, and gave them my location. I asked them to alert the police and paramedics stationed by the entrance.

They tried to keep me in line, but I cut off as soon as I relayed the information they needed. Once I made sure they would send help, I focused on not letting Sam's condition get worse.

"Don't worry, help's on the way," I said, hugging her and stroking her back to try to calm her down. "Sam, they're coming to help you, everything's gonna be alright."

She was complaining as if her whole body ached, and when I noticed that she had started to cry, my conviction and serenity crumbled. I tried to appear confident and brave, but the truth is that I was terrified. The idea that Sam might get hurt… it terrified me like few things in the world did, and panic began to take hold of me.

My heart was beating hard enough that I couldn't ignore it, and my breath hitched like I had just left the gym. I was falling prey to my nerves, and that was the last thing we both needed. I had to calm down so I could help her.

And as soon as I thought about it, I knew what I had to do. I looked around, and although it seemed that some students in the distance were starting to notice us, we were alone enough to try to use my powers.

Besides, this was about saving Sam. If my secret had to be made public to do so, that was a price I was willing to pay.

I knelt in front of her and took her face in my hands. She opened her eyes between her screams of pain, and I saw them red, crying heavy tears and showing all the veins that surrounded her blue irises like bloody vines. It broke my heart, but it also gave me the last push I needed to make up my mind.

For a second, I thought of all the good and happy memories that Sam and I had shared. I felt that warmth and calm flooding inside me, and I focused on those emotions, ready to control them with my voice and convey them to my best friend.

Come stop your crying, it'll be alright.
Just take my hand, hold it tight.
I will protect you from all around you,
I will be here, don't you—

"Stop singing!" She yelled, moving faster than I expected, grabbing me by the shoulders and pushing me back.

I fell on the grass, and before I understood what was happening, Sam was on top of me, her knees straddling my torso, her hands grabbing my shirt collar. She kept crying out loud and her hands shook as she pinned me down.

"S-Sam, let go, I have to—!"

"Your songs ruined everything!" She yelled, shaking me slightly.

It was then that I noticed her pupils were dilated and she didn't seem to be focused on me, as if she was staring blankly at nothing. I understood immediately that she was under the effects of the drug already.

I opened my mouth to resume my singing, trying to calm her emotions, but her right hand drew a great arc in the air, hitting my cheek squarely. The thud of the impact didn't do justice to how much it hurt, blackening my vision for an instant, and silencing any attempt at singing.

"You used to sing to me and I could feel your love! We were happy! I'd never fallen in love with anyone like you!" She moaned, crying louder. "And then suddenly one day your songs had no love in them! You sang me ballads, but you didn't love me anymore! Your love for me was gone!"

I turned my head in fear and horror at what I had just heard.

My songs no longer had love in them? Did she…? Had she sensed the moment I stopped loving her romantically? Had I transmitted it without realizing it?

"S-Sam, I don't—"

SLAP!

Once again, on the same already battered cheek, Sam silenced me with a hit. I moved my hands to try to cover my face, but she grabbed my wrists and pushed my arms on either side of my head, preventing me from moving.

I heard what seemed to be a familiar voice in the distance calling out our names, but my mind couldn't process anything other than Sam or the burning on my face.

"You wouldn't tell me, but I felt it!" She cried, and her voice began to shake as if uttering each word was hurting her worse than she was hurting me. "I wanted to save you the trouble and lied, saying that I no longer felt the same chemistry between us! I broke up with you, but I never stopped loving you!"

The pain in my cheek, which was almost certainly starting to turn purple, was nothing compared to what I felt in my heart. It was as if someone broke it into two halves, throwing them as far away from each other as possible.

It had never crossed my mind that Sam still held romantic feelings for me. She had been the one who told me she wanted to just be friends again! But… now I understood that she'd done it because she knew what I felt. She hadn't ended our relationship, I had. She just saved me the trouble of admitting it.

Images and memories bombarded my mind, one after another. I thought of all the jokes Sam made about how much I loved her. Jokes about getting back together. How I couldn't live without her, how it was only a matter of time before I asked her to marry me. Jokes that hid what she really wanted. What she truly felt.

And then I thought about what I had done for the past few weeks. Meeting Carol more and more often. Telling Sam every moment I shared with this new girl, and how I felt I was getting closer to her. I tried to remember Sam's face, her expressions, trying to see if her pain was obvious, but the only obvious thing was how blind I had been not to see it.

For a second I tried to put myself in her shoes, to think how much it must have hurt her, and how difficult it must have been to keep up appearances. And why? Just for me. So that I could sleep peacefully believing that everything had gone well and that we were both where we wanted.

I joined her in crying, dropping tear after tear, half of them trailing down my sore cheek.

"Sam…"

"I knew you liked Carol, but I never thought she would like you back!" She yelled at me, before leaning her forehead against mine, letting our tears mix up. "It wasn't supposed to work! You'd try, she'd reject you, and I'd be there to comfort you! Why did it work ?! Why are you so close ?! Why don't you love me anymore?! What did I do wrong?! Didn't I love you enough ?! Was I not attentive enough ?! Why?! Why?!"

"Y-You didn't do a-anything wrong, Sam," I told her, my chest and shoulders shaking in time with my crying. "It wasn't your fault."

She cried some more, but suddenly she let go of my wrists and clutched her head to scream in pain.

My arms, my face, even my chest ached, but I found the strength to lift a trembling hand and gently rest it on the face of my friend, my former girlfriend.

"I'm sorry… Sam, I—"

She shook herself off my hand. She roared like a beast, and when she looked at me, I couldn't find any trace of Sam in those eyes. Consumed by the chemicals that affected her, she no longer had control over her body. She raised a clenched fist, prepared to hit me violently, and I only managed to close my eyes, bracing myself for the impact.

A few quick footsteps were the only sign I had before someone grabbed Sam and pulled her off me. She roared and started kicking, hitting me on the knee. I opened my eyes to find Sully, holding Sam by the arms and trying to keep her away from me. Before I could say anything, Mazzy knelt next to me and tried to get me to sit up, filling me with questions.

Everything soon went to hell. Two policemen came running at full speed, helping Sully keep Sam under control. Shortly after, paramedics came over to give her an injection that seemed to make her faint. Both the police and the doctors tried to talk to me, to make sure I was okay, but I wasn't.

Nothing was right, I thought as I watched my best friend being carried away on a stretcher guarded by the police.

Nothing was right, and it was all my fault.