Milo looked like he was in serious risk of passing out right there on the frozen asphalt behind the game store. I hadn’t seen him that upset since freshman year of high school when we’d had our last real conversation—a fight that had left me in a billion pieces. I’d shattered exactly like a rocket we’d worked on once, a freak collapse destroying days and days of work, except that time it had been years of friendship crumbling.

* * *

“I don’t get why you can’t sit with us.” My voice had done the wavering thing I hated on the walk home from school. I’d left school alone, Milo popping up two blocks into my trek, all cagey about why he hadn’t been at the lockers like usual.

“Because the team sits together.” The team. God. I was already sick of hearing about the soccer team and definitely sick of Milo’s reverent tone when he talked about his teammates. “I may be JV now, but Coach says if I keep working, I’ll be the first freshman to make varsity. I need to be one of the guys right now.”

“But you were one of us.” He’d sat with our crowd all through middle school and the first part of freshman year. Sure, the school was bigger, but we’d had the same core friend group for years now. We talked about our favorite games and complained about our least favorite classes, same as always, even though we didn’t have many classes other than lunch together. But then he’d gone and made the soccer team, and everything had changed. I hated it.

He bit his lip, tongue darting out to soothe where his teeth had been, making my stomach do flippy things even as I knew I wasn’t going to like what came next.

“I’m not a gamer. Not really. And I’m not gunning for honor society and math team like you guys. Coach says I’ll probably get a scholarship somewhere even if my grades aren’t all that. I’m just not a…”

“Nerd,” I finished for him. “You don’t want to be seen with the nerds.”

“No!” Milo squawked, but something about his protest rang empty. “I can message you.”

“Message? Like, why can’t you talk to me at school? Or hang out at our houses like always. I don’t get it.” Coming to a stop at an intersection, I pivoted on my heel, staring him down, daring him to tell me I’d been imagining his weirdness lately.

“I don’t think you should come over because… You know. You went to that meeting. The one for that club.” He’d gone paler now and his voice was faint.