“Andrew, honestly. Why are you even talking to us?” I finally ask. The words have been on the tip of my tongue since the start of the school year, but I’ve been too nervous to say them.

“What do you mean?” he asks.

“We aren’t friends anymore.”

“Sure, we are,” he says. “Just ’cause I’m hanging out with different people doesn’t mean we’re not friends.”

I look to Wes to back me up, but he fumbles with his trumpet instead and looks down at his feet. Fine. I guess I’ll be fighting this battle alone.

“Actually, that’s exactly what it means.”

Andrew rolls his eyes and shakes his head. It’s what he does anytime he feels defensive. I know this because he’s been doing it since we met in first grade.

“Well, we’re all in the horn section together, so what do you want me to do? Just ignore you guys?”

“Why not?” I reply. “You’ve already gotten so good at it.”

Mic. Drop. Never get into a fight with a writer. You will always lose.

Andrew’s face turns beet red, and he scowls at me. Great, now I’m the bad guy. He turns away from me and doesn’t say another word. Mr. Felder jogs back onto the field from the bathroom and mumbles something about drinking too much water today.

“Okay,” Mr. Felder announces from the bleachers. “Let’s take it from the top.”

We prep our instruments and get into formation. Before the music can drown out our thoughts and our conversations, Wes turns to me and shakes his head.

“I wish you wouldn’t have said anything,” he whispers. “Now he’s never going to talk to us again.”

He might be right, but I’m not sure it matters. Our friendship was already dying a slow death. All I did was put it out of its misery.

GABRIELA

I’ve been working at Katie’s Diner since freshman year of high school, and the Cosgroves, who own it, quickly became like my second family. Before I was an employee, I was a loyal customer. Parisa and I would go almost every Saturday to eat eggs Benny for brunch and try to do our homework, getting sidetracked with more important subjects like whether I should secretly reach out to my grandparents without telling my moms. Or whether she should consider taking a gap year to work on her novel. Usually, Wes and Andrew would pop in for an hour or two to eat leftovers off our plates and wax poetic about their latest plans to start a band after high school.