The gym was packed for the assembly, but Max felt alone.

She sat with her hood up, arms crossed, her eyes fixed on the scuffed floor beneath the bleachers. The echoes of the principal’s voice droned overhead something about healing, unity, strength in the face of tragedy but none of it landed. It all felt like static. Like words meant to fill a silence no one wanted to face.

Max didn’t want to be here.

She didn’t want to think about the weight in her chest, or the dull ache behind her eyes. Didn’t want to hear the names of those who were gone, not when she couldn’t even say them in her own head without crumbling. So instead, she stared at the ground, wishing she could disappear into it.

Then someone sat beside her.

Not a friend. Not someone she even recognized. Just a girl quiet, withdrawn, her black nail polish chipped, her posture folded in on itself like she was trying to take up as little space as possible.

Max glanced sideways. The girl’s eyes were locked on the same spot on the floor. Her hands were clenched tightly in her lap. She looked like she wanted to run. Like she already had.

Max didn’t say anything, but she didn’t look away either.

She recognized the look in the girl’s eyes the same hollow ache Max saw in the mirror. The kind of pain that didn’t scream but whispered. That clung to your ribs and pulled at your thoughts. Maybe this girl wasn’t just another stranger. Maybe she was drowning too.

The silence stretched between them until Max slowly slid off her hood. Just enough. Just enough for the girl beside her to notice. The tiniest movement a signal. A choice.

The girl turned, almost startled. Their eyes met, and something unspoken passed between them. Understanding. Recognition. Grief wrapped in a different shape, but still the same shade.

“I hate these things,” Max muttered under her breath, her voice barely audible.

The girl blinked, and then nodded. “Me too.”

Neither of them smiled. But somehow, just that moment made the weight a little less unbearable.

The principal’s voice faded into the background. Max didn’t care what came next in the assembly. She had found someone who didn’t need her to be okay. Someone who got it.

They didn’t speak again. They didn’t need to.

For the first time in days, Max didn’t feel like she was the only one holding it all in. And when the crowd stood to leave, she didn’t walk out alone.