#BreakingTheRules

by Yesenia Vargas

  Ella nodded her head to the tune of “Happy.”

  “One hundred days, seniors! It’s up to you to finish your last semester of high school like a boss!” Ms. Moreau cried.

  She came up to us in the hallway, giving each one of us high fives.

  Harper grinned and gave her one worthy of making any kindergartener teacher proud.

  Mrs. Moreau stopped, her smile wide. “Aren’t you girls excited? One hundred days and you’ll be out of here!” Then she frowned, giving Harper and Lena a tight hug. Lena’s eyes actually bugged out a little bit, but of course, Harper hugged her back just as hard. “Oh, I can’t believe you girls will be leaving us. It just won’t be the same without you. No, you girls are going to have to come back and visit me.” She held up a finger and looked at each one of us in turn.

  Harper nodded. “We’d love too, Ms. Moreau. We’re really going to miss you.”

  Ella nodded. “You’ve helped us so much.” She glanced at the rest of the #BFFs. “We wouldn’t have become this close without you.”

  Ms. Moreau responded with another hug. “Oh you girls are sweet. But I mean it. I insist you come visit me. You’ll be amazing role models for the rising classes behind you. Just look at how far each of you has come.” She sighed. “Oh you girls are gonna make me cry.” She dabbed at her eye.

  Lena said, “Save it for graduation, Ms. Moreau,” she teased.

  “You’re completely right,” she replied. She turned to me. “What about you, Rey? You ready to move on and do amazing things?”

  I gave her a nervous smile. “As I’ll ever be.”

  She continued walking down the hallway, giving a big high five to any senior who would take her up on it. Her music faded, and we faced our lockers again, still chuckling.

  Tori grinned and clutched her chest. “Oddly enough, I am really gonna miss her.”

  Harper put her arm around her. “Oh my gosh, me too.”

  I swallowed the slight lump in my throat, not believing there were tears in my eyes.

  One hundred days. That was a long time. No need to get worked up now, I told myself.

  But the rest of the #BFFs looked a little worked up too.

  The difference with them was that they also looked really happy. They had happy tears in their eyes. Mine were more panic-induced.

  And I realized it was because they were ready to leave. I wasn’t.

  All of a sudden, it felt like I’d been hit in the chest with a sledgehammer. I stood there, frozen.

  I tried to focus on deep breaths and closing my eyes.

  “Hey, are you okay?” I heard. It was Tori. Or maybe Harper.

  I held on to the locker beside me for balance, slowly opening my eyes again. My hand lay over my heart. I exhaled slowly. “Yeah, I’m okay. Sorry. I just—”

  Harper rubbed my shoulder. “You sure you’re okay?”

  I nodded quickly. “I’m fine,” I managed. “It’s just…”

  Ella said, “It’s okay. I mean, one hundred days. It is kind of crazy once you think about it. Moving on is a little bit scary.”

  Harper smiled. “But remember: you’re not in this alone. We’re right there with you. Okay?”

  I nodded, feeling a little bit better but still sure I was going to start crying any second. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m just… still figuring stuff out. But it’ll be okay.” I was sure I sounded confident, but I felt anything but.

  “You totally will,” Tori said. “You’ve got plenty of time.”

  I nodded again. “We should get going.”

  Lena gave me a smile and walked beside me.

  Already, most of the hallway had emptied, students eager to get home or get to whatever extracurricular activity they had to rush off to.

  We began heading toward the front of the school, arm in arm. We hardly fit in the wide hallway, but I loved walking together like this. Like I wasn’t just a tiny drop of water in this giant sea that was Westwood High School.

  As we reached the double doors leading outside, Lena shrieked, staring down at her phone. “Oh my gosh, you guys. GUESS WHAT?”

  She jumped out in front of us, bouncing up and down on her feet. “I just heard back from my #1 choice! They’re offering me a full ride to play on their girls’ soccer team!”

  “Oh wow,” I said, my hands covering my mouth.

  “That’s awesome!” Harper said.

  Tori hugged her. “You did it!”

  Ella screamed along with Lena.

  We wrapped our arms around her like a cocoon, screaming and jumping for ten seconds straight.

  Lena showed us the email, and none of us could stop congratulating her.

  My heart filled with joy for her because I knew how happy this made her, how hard she had worked for it too.

  Tori stepped back. “So you’re going then? Are you thinking about it?”

  Ella said, “I bet you have to discuss it with your mom and dad. They’re going to be thrilled, though.”

  Harper and I waited for an answer.

  Lena looked around, biting her bottom lip. “I think—I think I’m going to say yes. I know my parents are going to be on board. My dad more than my mom, although neither of them is thrilled with the idea of me being several hours away…but there’s a good chance Ian will end up there with me. You know what, you guys? I don’t care. I want this. And I’m going to say yes!”

  We began jumping up and down again.

  We finally kept walking to our cars, and Lena kept chatting non-stop as we listened. “I know it’s going to be tough being so far away and moving and everything. Being in a completely new city. But I’m also so freaking excited! I can’t even tell you.” She swallowed and I could see the tears in her eyes, and it made me want to cry again, but at least for a good and happy reason this time.

  “We are seriously so happy for you,” Harper said, squeezing her hand. “You totally deserve this, Lena.”

  Tori gave her a hug, and then the rest of us did the same.

  “You’re so brave,” I blurted out.

  She smiled at me. “Believe me,” she said, laughing. “I’m scared out of my mind. But I’m going to do it anyway. And if I can do it, Rey, so can you.”

  Was it possible that she believed in me more than I believed in myself? With all that self-confidence gushing out of her, definitely.

  Her words made me smile, and for a second, I believed them. Not that I thought she was being insincere. More like it was the little voice inside my own head, telling me it was better to play it safe and stay here, even if I’d always wanted to travel and see the world and become a writer.

  No, it was safer to go to college, get a sensible career, and…figure things out that way.

  We reached our cars and said goodbye, giving each other one more hug for good measure. I gave Lena an extra hard one.

  She said, “I can’t wait until you guys start deciding where you’re going to go and what you’re going to do. I’m so excited.” She smiled and waved, getting in her car.

  Ella and Tori did the same, giving me one last wave.

  Harper’s car was parked next to mine so she walked with me a few feet down the lot. She gave me a kind smile. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  I looked away, my eyes on the cracks in the hot concrete. “Yeah, I’m good.”

  We reached our cars and I smiled.

  “Okay,” she said, and I was glad she didn’t say anything else.

  I got into my car and turned it on, thinking about everything that had happened in the last several minutes. I took a deep breath.

  I’d been dreading this semester since senior year had started, and it was here.

  Just one hundred days.

  One hundred days left with my best friends before they each went their own separate ways.

  One hundred days of high school plus one last summer.

  Harper pulled out of the parking lot, and I let the tears silently fall down my face.

  I’d always been happy to be alone, but
the thought of Tori, Lena, Ella, and Harper going away… It crushed me inside.

  How was I going to get through this, much less figure out what I was going to do with my life?

  I pulled out my journal, wiping the tears away so I could write.

  Nine

  Whenever the sun was bright and warm, I liked to go outside to read or write.

  And after several days of heavy spring rain, it was finally nice enough to do that.

  With everything that had been happening recently, I wanted to be alone for an hour or two. Without my mom’s yells across the house for us to bring dirty laundry down or to try her latest weird kitchen concoction or my brothers fighting in the living room over who got to use the TV.

  I just wanted peace and quiet and words.

  And with the exception of a loud car passing by every once in a while, I could get it in our secluded backyard.

  We had a big space behind our house which gave way to woods beyond our fence.

  There was a playground back there, the kind that looked like a club house with a slide and a couple swings. Plus there was a treehouse we used to love. But it had been years since Hugo and I had played outside.

  When we were little, he’d pretend we were pirates. He’d have me walk the plank by pushing me down the slide. Well, more like shoving, but I always laughed and giggled the whole way down, landing on my butt in the dirt with a plop at the bottom.

  Now even my twin brothers were too old to play on it. Or rather, they preferred to stay in the cool indoors and negotiate for as much screen time as they could.

  But I still liked to climb up into the treehouse, usually with an old bean bag I kept in the garage. Or just swing for a few minutes.

  Listen to nature. Very Henry David Thoreau, my dad used to tease when I confessed my like for being out there with nature all around me.

  So I threw the beanbag up there, and hugging my things to my chest, climbed up the well-worn ladder rungs. I set the bean bag and lay down, reading that day’s chapter of Harry Potter and breathing in the fresh air. Right away, my breathing slowed, my heart calmed down, and I felt better.

  If I wasn’t careful, I could easily fall asleep out there. That’s how peaceful it was.

  Today, Harry was meeting Snape for the first time, and once again, JK’s world of magic had absolutely pulled me in. I didn’t want to stop reading, despite how heavy my eyelids felt, but I did because Wes and I had agreed on half a chapter per day.

  While he was struggling to keep up, I itched to read faster and keep consuming the story.

  Wes and I hadn’t talked in a few days, and I wondered if, like Hugo, he was wading to keep his head above a big pile of homework.

  He’d mentioned upcoming mid-terms, and as fun as reading Sorceror’s Stone was, I also didn’t want him flunking his tests because of me.

  No matter how good Harry Potter was.

  I smiled, remembering the all-nighters I’d pulled thanks to J.K. Not because I was studying all night but because I couldn’t stop reading and remained in complete denial about a big test the next day.

  My parents may or may not have had a talk with me after that about limiting books if they were going to affect my grades.

  Oops.

  Definitely not the problem most kids had, but most kids had no idea that so many awesome worlds lay in the pages of books.

  Maybe one day I’d be brave enough to put myself out there in that way, by writing my own stories.

  But the thought of that seemed impossible. Me create characters and worlds? No way they’d be as good as J.K.’s. So for now, I would read other people’s stories and settle for journaling my heart out on #TheStoryOfMyLife.

  The sound of someone coming up the ladder had me sitting up in about half a second.

  My parents never came up here. They always called to me from down below or maybe texted me, saying it was time for dinner or to come inside, the sun had gone down.

  Could it be Hugo?

  But another set of familiar eyes popped up over the ladder.

  “Wes,” I said, hugging my book to my chest. I noticed my journal a couple feet away and slid it toward me, an automatic reaction to keep it close more than anything.

  He glanced at it and smiled at me. “Hey,” he said, climbing into the house with me. “I thought I saw you up here.”

  I glanced around the yard, wondering if anyone had seen him come up here, but things looked as boring and quiet as ever. “Hey. How’d you even know I was here?”

  Not believing he was just a couple feet away and that he’d decided to join me, I grinned, biting down on my bottom lip to hide how much I was freaking out inside.

  Wes smiled back. “I saw you when I was taking the trash out back. Then I realized you were up here, it reminded me of when we were kids. I’d walk up to our back door all the time and peek out, hoping you guys were playing outside because I was always so bored at my house.” He chuckled. “And if you were, I’d come running right out to climb over the fence and join you guys.”

  I laughed, remembering that. There were definitely many times Wes had played pirates with us. Which sometimes included rescuing the king’s daughter AKA me from sea monsters in exchange for treasure.

  Awkward.

  I brushed some hair behind my ear. “Do you still keep that stack of crates on your side of the fence?”

  Wes grinned sheepishly. “Maybe.” Then he pulled something out from behind his back. He held up his copy of Sorceror’s Stone and sat with his legs crossed. Suddenly, this treehouse felt super small.

  And kind of warm.

  He went on. “I thought this could be the perfect meeting place for our book club,” he said, making air quotes around book club.

  Now I was grinning like an idiot. “Really?” I cleared my throat. “I mean, yeah. We’re like halfway through the book now. We should totally talk about it.”

  Okay, self, stop rambling.

  Wes laughed and looked down at his book. “I’m also kind of procrastinating on studying for mid-terms. I could use a break.” He sighed, clearly tired. He had dark circles under his eyes and his curly hair was messier than usual.

  Somehow, he pulled off the look perfectly.

  Be still, my beating heart.

  He held up his book. “So this must be like your tenth time reading this, right? Any new thoughts?” he asked playfully.

  I opened my book, finding the bookmark past the middle of the book. “Well, there are definitely a few things here that are interesting because they show up again in the last book of the series. I won’t spoil it but I love how Jo intentionally does that.”

  He wrinkled his brow. “Jo?” He studied the front of the book.

  “J.K. Rowling,” I explained. “Her first name is Joanne.”

  “A chick wrote this book?” he asked, impressed.

  “Yep,” I said. “And she is like a billionaire or something.”

  “Wow,” he said, flipping through the pages in one swift motion. “Maybe I should write a book.”

  I giggled. “Maybe you should.”

  He looked at me. “If anyone should, it’s you.” His eyes went to the journal in my lap. “It looks like you already have. I always notice when you’ve got a different journal, and over the years, I’ve probably lost count of how many I’ve seen you carry around.”

  HE HAD NOTICED MY JOURNALS?

  Biting my lip again, I held the journal and said, “I have a shelf for them, actually. In my room. I’ve got a couple dozen at this point.” Maybe more?

  Wes’s mouth fell open. “That is…slightly intimidating.”

  I giggled. “Why would that be intimidating?”

  He shrugged, and I suddenly realized how long and effortlessly we’d been talking, like it was second nature for once in my life. “I just think it must take a lot of discipline to write that much, write every day and never stop. It’s… really cool.”

  “Thanks,” I said, glancing down. “But I don’t do it out of discipline.
I started writing because it was fun and a way to express what I was thinking when I couldn’t do it out loud and now I just can’t stop. It’s… a part of me.”

  I gripped the journal, grateful I’d always had this escape.

  We stayed quiet for a moment, until Wes said, “So, uh, can I ask you something?” His voice had gone so quiet.

  My breath hitched, and I wondered what he was about to say. I nodded. “Okay.”

  He met my eyes. “So what do you write in there?”

  Hearing his playful tone, it felt like we were kids again.

  There had definitely been more than one occasion when Hugo had begged me to let him read one of my journals. Or made sneaky plans to steal one of them. He’d learned that lesson the hard way after my parents sat him down for a serious and very awkward discussion about personal privacy. Which may or may not have included a song. That memory still made me laugh.

  I turned back to Wes. “I write…everything in here. Things that happen, how I feel about it. Favorite memories. Not so favorite memories. Poems. Doodles. Drawings.” I shrugged. “A ton of stuff. Anything and everything, basically.”

  Wes blinked a couple times, staring at the journal in my hands. “And you don’t let anyone read them? Not even your mom or your friends?”

  I shook my head slowly. “No one. My mom got me my first journal when I was in third grade, to get me to say something, even if it was on the page. But she said it could just be for me.” I smiled. “They’re just for me.”

  And part of them ended up on #TheStoryOfMyLife, but Wes didn’t need to know that.

  Wes’s voice came out quieter this time, like we’d settled into a deep conversation. I had to scoot in closer to listen. “Why can’t you say them?” A grin teased his lips.

  I stared at my lap for a second, immediately thinking of all the super personal and embarrassing things in my journal. “They’re not always meant to be shared. A lot of them are just thoughts. Like the ones you have, or anyone has, except I write them down,” I replied.

  “I don’t know,” he said, his eyes on me. “I think some things deserve to be said out loud.”

  My breath caught, and I tried to figure out what that meant, if anything.