The hallway outside room 214 always smelled faintly of old floor wax and damp winter coats.
That was where Chloe and I used to stand together every morning before the bell rang for homeroom.
For two years, we shared everything from locker combinations to secret notes about teachers we couldn't stand.
Things started shifting slowly around the middle of October when Chloe joined the yearbook staff and started hanging out with a different crowd.
She stopped waiting by my locker and began giving me these short, distracted nods in the corridor.
I tried convincing myself that she was just stressed with extracurriculars and college prep planning.
I kept telling myself that our friendship was fine and that I was just overthinking every little silence.
Even when she started sitting at a different table during lunch, I sat with our old acquaintances and pretended not to notice.
The day of the incident started off completely ordinary with nothing to hint at what was coming.
The cafeteria was packed to capacity with students shouting over each other to grab seats near the exits.
I was sitting alone at the edge of our usual table while the others went to the snack line.
That was when Chloe detached herself from her new group near the milk coolers and walked over with my binder.
Her footsteps sounded sharp against the linoleum floor as she approached my chair.
I looked up expecting a casual greeting or maybe a quick reminder about our biology project.
Instead, she stopped right beside my left shoulder with the black binder held loosely in her right hand.
The expression on her face was completely neutral, devoid of any warmth or previous friendship.
"You're not going to need these anymore anyway, Maya," she said out loud for the surrounding tables to hear.
I reached out my hand automatically, expecting her to place it in my open palm.
Instead, she tilted her wrist downward without breaking eye contact for a single second.
The binder slipped from her grip and fell straight into the open metal trash receptacle beside my chair.
It made a sharp, echoing slap against the bottom plastic liner underneath a pile of discarded lunch packaging.
A sudden hush rippled through the immediate vicinity as nearby students paused mid-conversation.
Mark, who sat two rows behind me in English, turned his head slowly to see what had fallen.
Chloe didn't say another word or flash a triumphant grin to her friends across the room.
She simply turned on her heel and walked away, her sneakers squeaking slightly on the polished floor.
