Top of the Class, Alone

Before that, Autumn always partnered with me. We were the unbeatable team, always in sync. I thought that would never change.

I thought she’d turn him down, but after a moment’s hesitation, she said to me: “Noah, why don’t you find someone else to team up with.” Her voice was gentle, but firm. I tried to play it cool, but my stomach dropped.

Everyone else already had partners. So I stood alone by the court, feeling lost.

I watched from the sidelines, racket dangling at my side, trying to act like it didn’t bother me. But it did.

I saw Mason deliberately get close to Autumn, asking her to show him how to serve, his lips almost brushing her ear. He laughed at his own mistakes, made a show of missing the birdie, anything to keep her attention. She giggled, blushing, and I felt invisible.

Autumn’s face slowly turned red. She never blushed for me, not like that. I realized, with a sinking feeling, that something had shifted between us.

Mason really couldn’t play, but Autumn patiently taught him, step by step. She didn’t call him dumb for missing shots like she did with me, and when she looked at him, her eyes were full of smiles.

She was gentle with him in a way she never was with me. I wondered what it felt like to be on the receiving end of that softness.

She never once looked at me, standing off to the side. I waited for her to glance my way, just once. She didn’t.

A few days later, Mason confessed to Autumn. He did it in front of the whole school, flowers in hand, voice loud and clear. Everyone cheered. I watched from a distance, heart pounding in my chest.

Plenty of boys had confessed to her before, but she always refused. She’d always laughed them off, shaking her head. This time was different.

This time, she agreed without any hesitation. She smiled, took his hand, and the whole hallway erupted in cheers. I felt like the ground had vanished beneath my feet. Like I was falling, and there was no one there to catch me.

From then on, Autumn changed. It was like she’d shed her old skin overnight. The girl I knew was gone, replaced by someone I barely recognized.

She stopped doing homework with me, stopped going to the library with me. Our routines—our rituals—vanished. I waited for her calls, her texts, but they never came.

Her whole world revolved around Mason. She started dressing like him, talking like him, even walking with the same swagger. They were inseparable.

She skipped class to go on dates and ride motorcycles with him. I’d see them tearing down Main Street, her hair flying in the wind, laughter trailing behind them like music.

Got jealous over other girls for him. She’d glare at anyone who looked at Mason twice. Fights broke out. The whole school watched, fascinated.

Learned to smoke and drink to please him. I caught her behind the gym once, cigarette in hand, beer can at her feet. She saw me and looked away, ashamed—or maybe just annoyed.

She said she liked the dazzling Mason. She told everyone he made her feel alive, that he was the spark she’d been missing.

She said he was completely different from me, that he was a ray of light in her dull life. Those words echoed in my mind, sharp as broken glass. I wondered if she ever thought I could be her light, too.

She told me not to look for her anymore, because Mason would get angry. Her texts grew colder, shorter, until they stopped altogether. I felt like I was losing her one piece at a time.

From that day, we completely parted ways. It was like a door slammed shut, and no matter how hard I knocked, she wouldn’t open it again.

Autumn was scolded, but insisted she wasn’t wrong, and refused to listen to her mom about breaking up with Mason. She stood her ground, even as the adults begged her to reconsider. She wouldn’t budge.

Autumn’s mom left the school in tears. I saw her in the parking lot, clutching her purse, shoulders shaking. My mom tried to comfort her, but there was nothing anyone could say.

It was raining after school. As I took out my umbrella at the school gate, I saw Autumn and Mason sheltering from the rain nearby. They were pressed together under the awning, their laughter muffled by the downpour. I hesitated, watching them from a distance.

They were hugging, and Mason took off his jacket to cover Autumn’s head. He draped it over her shoulders, pulling her close. She smiled up at him, her eyes shining.

I used to do that for her too, but now it was Mason instead. A sharp ache settled in my chest. It felt like losing a piece of my own history.

Autumn was wearing a white cotton dress, which became a bit see-through after getting soaked in the rain. She shivered, arms wrapped around herself. The rain made her look fragile, almost breakable.

I hesitated, then took out my spare umbrella and offered it to them. I walked over, holding out the umbrella, trying to ignore the lump in my throat. “Do you want an umbrella?”

Mason sneered and slapped the umbrella out of my hand. The handle smacked the pavement. Mason’s eyes were cold, daring me to fight back.

“Noah, what’s wrong with you?” His voice was loud, drawing stares from the other kids huddled under the awning. “Didn’t Autumn tell you not to look for her anymore? Why do you keep hanging around us, desperate for attention? Aren’t you ashamed?”

I pulled my hand back, the back of it red from the slap, surprised that my good intentions could be twisted like this. Instinctively, I looked at Autumn. My skin burned where he hit me. I searched Autumn’s face for something—remorse, gratitude, anything. But her eyes were hard.

Autumn just kicked the umbrella away irritably. The umbrella skittered across the wet pavement, spinning out of reach. She didn’t even look at me.

“Can you stop hanging around in front of me?” Her voice was sharp, impatient. It cut deeper than I expected.

“So annoying.”

Mason laughed loudly, grabbed her hand, and they dashed off into the rain together. Their laughter echoed as they disappeared into the downpour, leaving me standing there, soaked and alone.

The two of them—handsome boy and beautiful girl—running through the rain in their school clothes looked just like a scene from a movie. It was cinematic, almost beautiful. I hated how perfect they looked together.

Even though it stung, I had to admit, they really did look good together. I watched them go, heart heavy, and wondered if I’d ever stop missing her.

After a long time, I bent down, picked up the umbrella, and slowly walked into the rain. The rain soaked through my jacket, chilling me to the bone. I didn’t bother to open the umbrella. It felt pointless.

When I got home, Autumn’s mom was sitting on my living room sofa. She looked small and defeated, clutching a tissue in her hand. My mom sat beside her, rubbing her back, eyes filled with worry.

Her eyes were red and swollen. My mom sat beside her, sighing. The room was quiet, the kind of silence that presses on your chest. I hovered in the doorway, unsure what to say.

“Noah, can you help Auntie talk to Autumn? She used to listen to you the most.” Her voice was shaky, desperate. I felt a pang of guilt, wishing I could do more.

She looked up at me, her eyes full of hope. I couldn’t meet her gaze. I stared at the carpet, heart pounding.

I hesitated, forcing a bitter smile. “Auntie, I’m afraid she wouldn’t listen to me now.” I tried to keep my voice steady, but it cracked at the edges. I wanted to help, but I didn’t know how.

“We haven’t been close in a long time.” The words tasted bitter in my mouth. It hurt to admit it out loud.

Autumn’s mom grabbed my hand, choking up: Her grip was tight, almost painful. I could feel her shaking.

“Noah, please help Auntie. I really have no other way.” Her voice broke, and I saw tears welling in her eyes again.

“Autumn only has that boy on her mind now. She won’t listen to anything I say. Please, just help Auntie, okay?” She looked at me like I was her last hope. I felt the weight of her trust settle on my shoulders.

Looking at her almost desperate eyes, I wanted to refuse, but the words caught in my throat. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I couldn’t turn her down—not after everything.