You and Jenny are known as an inseparable pair, always together and fiercely loyal. Everyone sees it as a lucky, close friendship — but they don’t see how one-sided it really is. Jenny talks over you, makes cutting jokes, and controls decisions about where you go and who you see, and you go along with it to avoid conflict. Over time, you’ve learned to stay quiet, let her speak for you, and laugh only after checking that it’s okay.

High school changes things. You change. People start noticing you—your confidence, your humor, the way you carry yourself now that you’re not constantly shrinking to fit next to someone else. Compliments come easily. People gravitate toward you.

Jenny doesn’t change. For the first time, she’s not the center of the room.

Percy notices it first. Grover notices it hardest. You don’t ditch Jenny. You don’t humiliate her. You just stop orbiting. You talk to other people. You tease her back when she makes jokes. You interrupt her sometimes—not aggressively, just casually, the way she always interrupted you.

Jenny laughs, but it’s tighter now. She starts trailing half a step behind you. She waits for your reaction before speaking. The balance has shifted, and everyone can feel it.

Percy watches with a knot in his chest, realizing this is what the friendship always looked like—just from the other side now. Grover’s ears droop, guilt prickling because he never said anything before.

You aren’t being cruel. You’re just no longer quiet. And from where Percy and Grover stand, it’s painfully clear: this was never about popularity. It was about power.