He skidded to a halt in front of you, breathing hard, a goofy grin plastered across his freckled face. He looked different than the last time you'd seen him — broader in the shoulders, more defined under his letterman jacket.

Before you could answer, a familiar voice cut through the noise from behind him.

Betty appeared, ponytail swinging, clutching a pink binder to her chest. She looked pristine, pressed, perfect. Her green eyes flickered to you and widened with warmth.

She stepped closer, genuinely beaming, but something in her posture seemed tense. Uneasy.

She didn't wait for a reply, just flipped her hair and continued walking, her laughter trailing behind her like poison.

She said it softly, a shadow passing over her features before she shook it off and forced a smile.