Chapter Three: Shifting Lights

By January, Stella had fully found her place in the orbit of Vivian and Susan.

They were practically royalty at George Middle. Vivian with her expensive braids and quiet confidence that made teachers soft and students quiet. Susan with her glossy curls, rich-girl sneakers, and a laugh that could either make you or ruin you.

They didn’t talk to just anyone. But they started talking to Stella.

“You’re actually funny,” Vivian said once in science class, twirling her pen. “Not, like, try-hard funny. Just… normal.”

That was the beginning. After that, Stella was suddenly at their lunch table, walking with them to class, tagging them in TikToks Zaniah didn’t even see anymore.

And Zaniah? She was slowly being faded out like the last seconds of a song.

What made it worse was that Stella never said anything. She didn’t apologize. Didn’t explain. Just kept switching tables, switching tones, switching sides.

But James?

James started noticing Zaniah.

It began with eye contact — the kind that held a second too long across the cafeteria. Then he started saying “hey” in the halls. Not the generic kind. The real kind. The kind that made your name sound like it belonged in his mouth.

One day in English, they got paired for a group essay. Stella wasn’t in their group. She was across the room with Vivian and Susan, scribbling notes while laughing too loud on purpose.

James leaned toward Zaniah, voice low. “You write, like, actually write. That essay we did? Fire.”

Zaniah blinked. “Thanks.”

“You ever think about doing the writing club or something?”

She hadn’t. She didn’t even know anyone had noticed.

James tilted his head, smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You’ve got, like… this vibe. Like there’s a story running in your head all the time.”

Zaniah’s throat tightened.

Maybe he didn’t mean anything deep by it. Maybe he was just being nice. But no one had ever said something like that to her — something that felt like it saw through the quiet, not just around it.

And for a moment, she felt warm again.

By February, James was talking to her more often. Not flirting exactly — but something close. He walked next to her in the halls. Waited outside their shared class a few times. Asked her opinion on music. One day he even told her, “You don’t try to be cool. That’s kinda what makes you cool.”

Zaniah wasn’t used to that kind of attention.

She didn’t know what to do with it. So she did nothing. Just smiled, nodded, and tried not to look over at Stella’s table every five seconds.

But Stella was looking back.

Watching. Quiet. Noticing.

And something about her smile had changed.

It was tighter now.

Sharper at the corners.

Like a question Zaniah didn’t know the answer to.

The worst part wasn’t James.

The worst part was that Stella had stopped talking to her even when no one else was around.

No more late-night calls.

No more whispered jokes in class.

No more “Z.”

Just silence.

Except for that one day, when Zaniah passed her by the lockers and Stella looked her up and down — not mean, just cold — and said, “So… you and James now, or what?”

Zaniah froze. “What?”

Stella smiled, all teeth. “Nothing. Just asking.”

And walked away.

Zaniah stood there for a long time, heart racing, wondering what she’d just lost — and if she’d ever really had it in the first place.

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