There are three universal truths in life:
1. Glitter is permanent.
2. Sister Joan always knows when you're lying.
3. And secrets? They don't stay hidden at St. Agatha's.
I learned all of that the hard way.
---
By Monday morning, Jade wasn't speaking to me. Phoenix kept sending me glances across the hallway that said we need to talk, but I wasn't sure I was ready to talk to anyone. My feelings were an overstuffed locker—one wrong pull and everything would come crashing down.
Worse? Word had spread.
About me. About Phoenix. About the roof.
Don't ask me how. Maybe someone saw us. Maybe someone wanted to see us. Either way, whispers followed me like shadows through the halls.
---
"I told you," Bianca purred as she strolled up to me during breakfast. "I told you hearts were fragile."
I didn't respond. I calmly stabbed a grape with my fork.
"Phoenix always had a weakness for broken things," she continued. "But don't worry. You'll make a great cautionary tale."
"I think the cautionary tale is you, Bianca," I said, looking up at her sweetly. "You keep circling the same boy who's been avoiding you like the plague since second year."
She narrowed her eyes. "Careful, Wren. You might be new, but I've crushed girls with stronger spines than yours."
"Oh, honey," I smirked. "I don't have a spine. I have a steel rod and zero patience for Mean Girls 101."
Laughter broke out across the cafeteria. A few claps. Someone even whispered "Queen."
Bianca's jaw twitched. "This isn't over."
I raised my glass of orange juice. "Cheers to that."
---
Jade wasn't at lunch. Or in Lit class. Or anywhere I could corner her and fix this mess.
Phoenix tried to catch me after study hall, but I slipped out the side door. It wasn't avoidance. It was self-preservation.
Because if I stood too close to him for too long, I'd fall harder than I already had.
---
I finally found Jade that evening, sitting on the stone bench behind the chapel. The light from the stained glass window bathed her in fractured blues and reds.
"Can I sit?"
She didn't look at me. "Free country."
I sat anyway.
"I'm sorry," I said, staring at my hands. "I should've talked to you. I didn't mean to... step on anything."
"It's not about stepping," she said. "It's about pretending like you didn't know I was standing there."
Her voice was quiet, but it hit harder than if she'd screamed.
"I didn't plan this thing with Phoenix. It just... happened."
She looked at me then. "And did it feel good?"
I swallowed. "Yes."
Silence.
Then, "I liked you, Aria. As a friend. I still do. But it's hard to root for someone who didn't tell you they were playing on your field."
That hurt. Because she was right.
"I miss you," I said.
She smiled, small and sad. "Then let's stop pretending this school hasn't already turned us into the worst versions of ourselves."
I nodded.
And that was the beginning of our truce.
Not a hug-it-out, bake-cookies kind of truce.
A we've-seen-each-other-bleed-but-we're-still-standing kind of truce.
---
I found Phoenix by the fountain the next morning.
"No running away this time?" he asked.
"I wore sneakers. If I wanted to run, you wouldn't catch me."
He chuckled. "Fair."
We stood in silence. Not awkward, not tense. Just... real.
"Are we okay?" he asked finally.
I didn't answer right away. Instead, I reached into my backpack and pulled out a small box. I handed it to him.
He opened it. Inside was a single sketch—a doodle of him, sitting on the rooftop, looking at the stars.
His smile melted me.
"I forgive you," I said. "But I still don't trust easily."
"You shouldn't," he agreed.
"Good. Because you're going to have to earn it."
He stepped closer. "Challenge accepted."
---
Later that day, I made the mistake of opening my locker.
BOOM.
A cascade of whipped cream exploded into my face, followed by confetti, streamers, and a recorded voice shouting, "KARMA'S A GLITTER BOMB!"
The hallway erupted with laughter.
Phoenix was doubled over. Even Jade cracked a smile.
I blinked, wiped cream from my lashes, and grinned. "Oh, it's on."
I knew exactly who had done it.
And Operation Unicorn Wrath was already loading.
---
That night, I snuck into the choir room.
It took an hour, some careful rewiring, and a Bluetooth speaker.
Then I waited.
The next morning, right before morning announcements, St. Agatha's student choir prepared to rehearse their holy hymn.
As Sister Joan raised her hands to signal the start, the speaker exploded with:
🎵 "I'm a Barbie Girl, in a Barbie World…" 🎵
Chaos.
Utter, glorious chaos.
Bianca shrieked.
The choir dissolved into confused giggles.
Sister Joan looked like she was going to combust.
I didn't even try to hide my grin.
The war had begun.
---
But between the prank battles, the broken friendships, and the boy who made my stomach feel like it had bees instead of butterflies, something else was happening.
I was changing.
The old Aria Wren would've stayed on the edge. Would've kept her guard up. Would've laughed off everything real.
But now?
I cared.
About Jade.
About Phoenix.
About my ridiculous art project and the mural I was painting behind the library with colors I didn't even know I loved.
About not becoming just another rule-breaking rebel cliché.
And I hated that I cared.
Because caring means risk.
And risk? Risk breaks people.
---
That evening, Sister Joan called me into her office.
"Miss Wren," she said slowly. "You've been busy."
I crossed my arms. "Define 'busy.'"
She held up her phone and pressed play.
🎵 "Life in plastic, it's fantastic…" 🎵
I stared at the ceiling. "Okay, that's just a bop. Not a crime."
Her lips twitched. "It's not about the music, Miss Wren. It's about intent."
I frowned. "Intent to... sass?"
She stood, walked around the desk, and placed her hands gently on my shoulders.
"I see something in you," she said softly. "Something real. But you're running from it."
"I'm not good at real," I whispered.
"You're better than you think."
---
Afterwards, I went to the rooftop.
Phoenix was there.
We didn't say much. We didn't have to.
He handed me a thermos of hot chocolate and stared at the sky with me.
"You think the stars ever get tired of shining?" I asked.
"Nah," he said. "They probably burn brighter when no one's looking."
I leaned my head on his shoulder.
"Good. Because I'm tired of hiding."