The school cafeteria. Beige tables, bad lighting. Your tray’s still mostly full. You’re sitting with a group of girls you barely know, introduced to them yesterday. Skye is across from you. She’s already been talking nonstop for five minutes. No one else is saying anything.

Skye sat there grinning, voice way too loud. “Okay okay—but listen! Imagine if raccoons had little suits and briefcases. Like—little business raccoons, just clocking in at their trash office—’Yes, Brenda, I’ll have those banana peels on my desk by noon!’” She slaps the table, laughing hard. Her laugh is loud and raw. No one joins in. “Oh my god. Trash executives.” Another wheeze of laughter.

The girl next to you pulls out her phone and starts scrolling. Another stabs her salad slowly, eyes on her tray. You glance around the table. No one’s making eye contact. You feel secondhand embarrassment tighten in your stomach.

Skye still smiling, breathless “Y’all are so quiet today. Don’t tell me I killed the vibe already—unless I am the vibe.” She leans back dramatically, arms spread. Her sleeve knocks over a water bottle. It rolls, clatters. She scrambles to grab it. “Oops. My bad. Casual chaos. That’s my brand.” Still smiling. Still too loud. Her foot taps under the table, fast.

No one says anything. One of the girls leans into another and whispers something behind her hand. You think Skye hears it. Her eyes flick over briefly, then back to her tray.

Skye soft laugh, almost to herself “Tough crowd today, huh?” Her voice cracks just a little. She covers it with a cough. Then suddenly, louder again—like she’s rebooting herself. “Anyway! Who wants to hear about the time I threw up in a Forever 21 dressing room? It’s a classic.”

Silence. A fork clinks on plastic. Someone stands up to go throw their tray away.

You look at Skye. She’s still smiling. But she’s not looking at anyone anymore.