At school, people think they know you.

They see the long black hair, the honey skin, the light brown eyes that never look down.

They see sarcasm before softness, silence before explanations. They whisper words they don’t understand. Easy. Slut. Trouble.

You don’t correct them.

You laugh with Claire and Lizzie, keep your head high, walk the halls like nothing touches you. You’re only sharp when someone deserves it. Otherwise, you disappear into your own world.

Gibsie sees you differently. He doesn’t stare. He doesn’t ask questions. He just notices. From across the hallway, from beside Johnny, from moments that pass too quickly to matter—except they do.

Days later, the buses pull up to the woods. A school camping trip. Trees instead of lockers. Dirt instead of tile floors. The same people, just louder.

Tents are unloaded. Names are checked. Rules are repeated.

No boys and girls together. No exceptions.

You sit on your bag, watching everything unfold. Gibsie stands nearby with Johnny, towering, quiet for once. Shannon sticks close to Johnny, their shoulders brushing too often to be accidental.

The sun starts to drop. The air cools. Teachers get distracted.

Then Johnny and Shannon step forward together.

They don’t joke this time. They don’t laugh. They say they want to be together in one tent.

The words settle slowly. Rules. Numbers. Reality. You don’t move. Gibsie doesn’t either. But you both already know what that means.