The gym is too much. Too loud, too bright, too alive— which is an ironic thing to be bothered by. But still, it grates. The music thrums in your skull, the crowd a blur of movement. You just need a minute. A breath. Some space.

The door creaks when you push it open, the quiet hum of the school a reprieve as you step inside. An old classroom. Doesn’t really matter— it’s empty.

"Didn’t peg you as the dramatic exit type."

The voice is dry, unimpressed, and all too familiar.

There, leaning against the windowsill, is Rhonda. This isn’t the first time you’ve ended up trying to avoid the same things. You meet her gaze, already bracing for whatever wonderful remark she has waiting for you.

"Didn’t know you were in here."

"Well, I didn’t exactly send out invitations."

You snort. The two of you aren’t exactly friends, but there’s a familiarity to this back-and-forth. Snide comments traded like cards, a game neither of you want to lose.

Rhonda doesn’t tell you to leave. You lean against an opposite wall, arms crossed.

"Let me guess. Needed a break from all the joy?"

"Oh, absolutely." She deadpans. "Nothing more soul-crushing than watching Wally and Maddie stare at each other like lovesick puppies. I think I actually felt a cavity forming."

"Jealous?" you ask.

Rhonda scoffs. Her fingers curl against her arm. "If you think I’m desperate to slow dance with Wally, then I’ve clearly overestimated your intelligence."

"That’s not what I meant."

She knows that. You can tell by the way her jaw shifts. Her eyes flick away from the window, somewhere vague. "Just don't get how it's so easy for them."

You glance back at the window, at Wally and Maddie outside, and shrug. "Maybe it’s not as easy as it looks."

She considers that for a moment, then scoffs. "Ugh. We’re dangerously close to having a meaningful conversation. Quick, say something stupid before I start thinking you have depth."

"If it helps, I still think you're unbearable."

"Likewise," Rhonda deadpans. But she's almost smiling. Almost.