Shifting Lines

Middle school had a way of changing everything - not all at once, but in tiny, unspoken ways. Voices dropped. Friendships strained and stretched. Someone stopped bringing their lunch from home. Someone else started wearing cologne. And suddenly, the world wasn't just about playground games and birthday sleepovers anymore.

It was about noticing who was watching whom.

Who was getting taller.

Who got hotter.

Who changed and how much.

Age 13, the beginning of the racture

They were all still kids, technically. But the line between childhood and whatever came next was starting to blur. It began that fall - after summer ended and they stepped into eighth grade with sneakers a size too big and hearts that didn't know what they were doing.

Skie was the first to feel it.

The shift.

Skie was the first to notice it,the way her heart did something stupid every time Brian, Conner's older brother, walked into a room. He was seventeen then, tall and lean with a smirk that looked like it had been practiced in the mirror, with sleeves he always shoved up to his elbows like he was about to do something dangerous or poetic. His hair flopped just right.

He played guitar in a garage band that only had three songs.

He wore rings he probably didn't know the meanings of.

And he had a dimple that made Skie forget her own name.

It wasn't just a crush. It was everything.

And she kept it to herself.

Mostly.

Because every time she lingered too long at Conner's house, pretending to need help with math she already understood, she found herself watching Brian. The way his fingers moved on the guitar strings. The way his laugh filled the room like it belonged there. And she'd catch Conner's eyes on her, frowning.

Confused. Quiet.

And then he'd go cold.

Conner didn't understand it at first. Skie had always been his - not in the possessive way, but in the unspoken, cosmic way you just know. The kind of person who finished your sentences, punched your arm when you lied, and knew the exact ratio of butter to jam on toast.

But lately, she was laughing at Brian's dumb jokes. Hanging around the garage when the band rehearsed.

Skie used to come over and eat cereal straight from the box with Conner on the floor of his room, both of them watching old cartoons and roasting each other about everything. But now she was wearing lip gloss. Reapplying it when Brian walked in. Laughing too loud at jokes that weren't even funny.

Those stupid Lip gloss.

But suddenly, she wasn't looking at him anymore.

She was looking at Brian.

And it made Conner mad.

Not annoyed-mad. Not just "ugh, whatever" mad.

He was aching-mad.

Jealous in a way he didn't have words for. The kind of jealous that made his chest tight and his throat hot.

He started skipping their walks home. Making excuses. Pretending he was busy with football practice even when he wasn't.

And Skie noticed.

But she didn't push.

She thought maybe he was just growing apart. That maybe that's what middle school did to people.

And then there was Dylan.

Sweet, sensitive Dylan with his oversized glasses and a backpack that looked heavier than he was.The one who cried in the library once when his drawing got crumpled and who apologized too much for things no one else noticed.

Sweet, sensitive Dylan who tried to pretend everything was fine. Who buried his nose in books and forced smiles that cracked at the corners.

At thirteenth Dylan realized something that terrified him more than anything else.

He liked boys.

Not in a casual way. Not in a phase kind of way. But in the kind of way that made him stare too long in the locker room and it made him stare too long and hate himself for it.

He didn't want to.

He tried to pray it away, the way his mom had taught him to pray for discipline and strength. He tried to focus harder on his grades. He even downloaded apps he wasn't supposed to have just to prove to himself that maybe, just maybe, he was wrong.

He wasn't.

He liked the way Felix's from his class smiled. The way his voice cracked when he got excited. The way his hair curled when it was wet after gym. The easy way he tugged off his shirt after basketball like it was no big deal.

But it was a big deal.

To Dylan, it was everything.

Felix was the one that made Dylan realize his sexuality.

But he was one of Dylan's friends at school and that meant that if he ever confessed to Felix, Dylan would find out.

And it scared him.

He tried to pray it away. He tried to fight it. He even dated a girl in eighth grade for three weeks before breaking up with her over text and crying about it in his closet. His parents were strict, traditional, Korean, who believed in discipline, image, and family honor. They didn't believe in this.

In whatever was going on with him.

So Dylan hid it. Deep.

He couldn't tell anyone.

Not Skie - not when she was busy painting her nails and sighing about Brian like she was in a movie.

And definitely not to Conner.

So he smiled.

He made jokes.

He gave advice he couldn't take.

And he started drawing again - obsessively - pages and pages of anonymous boys with soft eyes and messy hair.

Boys who didn't exist.

Not yet.

Not really.