Chapter Text
Shauna’s car honked outside, the familiar sound low and almost quiet. Jackie was already standing by the door, her backpack slung over one shoulder, her sneakers scuffing the concrete of the porch as she prepared for another school day. Summer hadn’t truly hit yet, but the heat was already unbearable, and the smell of freshly cut grass mixed with the warm morning air.
She knew Shauna was out there, waiting. There was something about that honk — that simple sound always made Jackie feel a kind of freedom. Like, when she got in the car, she was escaping everything that held her back. From her house. From her mom, who was always lost in a haze of prescription pills, and from her dad, who had been absent longer than she could remember.
It was always like this. Shauna’s honk meant more than just a ride. It was the breath of fresh air, the escape from the four walls of Jackie’s house. The moment they shared every morning, like an unwritten ritual, where it was just the two of them, with Shauna’s sad music filling the silence between them. Every morning, it felt the same: it was just their car, the road to school, and nothing else mattered in that instant.
Jackie got in, closing the door behind her, and smiled as Shauna, looking a little tired but still smiling, glanced at her.
"Hey," Jackie said, settling into the passenger seat. "Can we listen to something more upeat?" Jackie asked, fallowing their morning ritual.
Shauna gave a short laugh. "I knew you were going to say that. The anwser is no."
Jackie smiled, at this point she didn't really cared anymore. No matter how much Jackie complained about Shauna's music choices, those sad songs had become an essential part of their mornings. They’d sit together, listen to those tracks that spoke of goodbyes and new beginnings, and for some reason, it always felt like the start of their day was more honest, more real.
Jackie glanced out the window, watching the empty street, the houses lined up on either side, the sun peeking through the trees. She wasn’t sure how to explain to Shauna how much those moments meant to her. Everytime they were in that car, the most important thing was Shauna. Their friendship. How it always had been, from the beginning. Ever since Shauna started picking Jackie up every morning, and the two of them would cruise through the streets of Wyskayok with those sad songs playing between them. Jackie didn’t know how to explain it to Shauna, but she knew that, for her, that moment — that car ride — was the best part of her day. It was her escape. The feeling of going somewhere where, for a brief moment, nothing else mattered.
She turned to Shauna and, without thinking, said, "I'm so excited for things to be me, you and our dorm in Rutgers." Jackie told her the true. Jackie felt torn between longing for what was coming and mourning what was ending.
Shauna made a noise that Jackie couldn’t tell if it was affirmative or not, but she kept driving.
Jackie shifted in her seat, her fingers tracing the edge of her backpack. Rutgers. The school they’d both chosen, as planned, with a soccer team that had accepted Jackie, and the support Shauna would need. After winning Nationals, Jackie had been accepted to Boston, with a soccer scholarship to play there, but... she couldn’t go. She couldn’t even consider it, because she knew her mom would kill her if she found out Jackie was thinking about pursuing soccer as a career. And also, Boston meant being away from Shauna. Rutgers meant they’d be together again. And that, to Jackie, was more than enough. So Jackie kept the Boston thing for herself.
The last month of high school was slipping away in the blink of an eye. The Yellowjackets had won nationals, the exams were over, and everyone was getting ready for college. That year was almost done.She and Shauna were going to Rutgers. Even though, for Jackie, the idea of not playing soccer in Boston was a small ache. It was her choice. And, at that moment, it was okay. Because, looking at Shauna, she knew she could walk any path, as long as it was with her.
"It’s going to be good, right?" Jackie repeated, more to herself.
Shauna glanced at her for a second, before offering a brief smile. "Yeah. It will be."
And so, the car continued on, with the music playing softly in the background, and Jackie allowing herself to forget, just for a moment, everything that was about to change. Even if nothing would be the same again, those mornings together, those car rides, those little escapes, were still everything she needed.
Shauna took a sharp turn, the tires of her car squealing slightly as they sped through the quiet streets of Wyskayok. The sun was climbing higher in the sky now, the early morning haze giving way to the brightness of the day ahead. Jackie leaned back in the seat, her fingers tapping absentmindedly on the armrest, her mind wandering.
"So… have you thought about how we’re going to decorate our dorm?" Jackie asked, trying to keep her tone light, even though the question felt loaded. "Have you given pink and green a chance?"
Shauna didn’t immediately respond. Jackie glanced over at her, but Shauna’s eyes were fixed on the road, her jaw set in a way Jackie couldn’t quite read. There was something off about her lately—something Jackie couldn’t put her finger on.
"I don’t know," Shauna said eventually, her voice tight. "Maybe we can figure it out when we get there." Jackie blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift in tone.
Jackie frowned, watching Shauna's profile as the car glided down the street. It wasn’t just the dorm decoration that had been making Shauna so distant. Lately, everything felt different. Shauna had been distant—about Rutgers, about Jeff, about soccer, about Jackie. They didn’t have much to talk about anymore, and that, more than anything, unsettled Jackie.
It felt wrong.
They had always had so much to say. So much. They’d known each other since they were six, when they met at the playground through Shauna’s mom, who had been the one to make the first move. Ever since then, they’d been inseparable. They used to talk for hours. About everything. About their families, their favorite movies, their favorite music, the gossip in school, the endless minutiae of life. And now… now it felt like there was nothing left to say.
Jackie caught herself staring at Shauna, watching the way her hands gripped the steering wheel. It had been like this for months, but Jackie had never allowed herself to think about it until now. Why? Why was Shauna pulling away? Why couldn’t they talk anymore?
The last time they had shared anything close to a meaningful conversation was before nationals—before everything had changed. Shauna had been quieter, more reserved, and Jackie couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something Shauna was keeping from her. Something that hadn’t been said. Something Jackie wasn’t meant to hear.
Was it her? Was it something she had done?
Jackie wondered if, somewhere along the way, she had drained Shauna dry. Had she bored her? Made her want to escape?
The thought gnawed at her, and she had to swallow the discomfort that came with it.
Jackie had never once gotten bored of Shauna. How could she? Shauna was so… so much. So much more than Jackie could ever hope to be. Shauna was smart—so smart. She was a writer, for God’s sake, and Jackie… Jackie liked pop music and played soccer. She had nothing to offer compared to Shauna’s world of deep literature, poetry, and obscure music. Sometimes, when she really thought about it, Jackie felt small next to Shauna.
And maybe that was why things were changing. Maybe Shauna had outgrown her. She’d always been the better one, the more interesting one. And soon, they were going to be surrounded by new people at college—people who were smarter, more talented, more like Shauna. And Jackie would be left there, trying to keep up, trying to be enough.
Jackie felt the weight of the silence in the car as it stretched between them. The hum of the engine, the faint static of a song on the radio that neither of them was really listening to, filled the space.
She glanced over at Shauna again, trying to read her face, but Shauna was looking straight ahead, her expression unreadable.
Jackie opened her mouth to say something, to break the tension, but she couldn’t. Not yet. It was too hard to say what was on her mind, too difficult to admit to herself that things were changing in a way she didn’t understand.
So instead, she said, quietly, “I guess we’ll figure it out when we get there.”
Shauna didn’t respond.
And for a moment, neither of them said anything.
The silence in the car lingered, and Jackie, unsure of how to break it, tried to steer the conversation in a different direction.
“So, Lottie’s going away party. Are you ready?”
"Yeah, sure. I think it’ll be fun. One last night before we all head off to college."
Jackie smiled, trying to feel some excitement, but she still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off between them. "I want to have fun. It’ll probably be the last time all the Yellowjackets are together, you know?"
Shauna glanced at her briefly, then back at the road, her face thoughtful. "Yeah, that makes sense. It’ll be weird… not having the team, the games, all of it."
"It’s crazy to think everything’s ending," Jackie commented, more to herself, looking out the window. "I’m going to miss the team. Miss how everything used to be."
Shauna nodded slightly. "I’ll miss it too. But hey, we’ll keep in touch. It won’t be the end, just the start of something new."
Jackie was quiet for a moment, letting her words sink in, then turned to Shauna. "Do you really think Nat, for example, will come back from Boston just for a team reunion?"
Shauna laughed, a short, almost nervous laugh. "Why are you thinking about Nat?"
Jackie shrugged. "I don’t know. I just… I think she’s one of those people I’m sure I’ll never see again. She got that scholarship to Boston, right? I think that’s really cool for her. She deserves it."
Shauna seemed curious but didn’t seem eager to talk more about Nat or about anything really. "Yeah, she deserves it. But why do you think we won’t see her again?"
Jackie gave a sad smile. "Because she’s going to Boston, you know? She’ll be around new people, and honestly, she dont' even like us that much and that while being in Wyskayok, meaning that we are her only option."
Shauna glanced at Jackie for a moment before turning her attention back to the road, thoughtful. "And who else do you think we’ll never see again?"
Jackie thought for a second before answering. "Probably Taissa. She’s going to Harvard, and she definitely won’t want to keep in touch with us after that. And probably Van too… I don’t know, she’ll probably just go off and do her own thing."
Shauna looked at her quickly, as if trying to gauge Jackie’s feelings more deeply. "And would you want to stay in touch with them? With Taissa and Van and Nat?"
Jackie shrugged again. "I love the team, you know? I’d like us to keep in touch. But in the end, as long as you’re with me, I think everything will be okay."
Shauna seemed taken aback by that response, her expression turning more serious. She appeared uncomfortable with Jackie’s words, and Jackie noticed a subtle tension in the way she was acting. "Of course, I’ll be with you. I’ll always be by your side, Jackie."
Jackie looked at her, sensing the undertone of guilt in Shauna’s voice, and felt a pang in her chest. What did that mean? She didn’t know, but something was happening. Something beyond the words.
Shauna seemed a little unsettled, and Jackie wasn’t sure what to make of the weight in the air between them.
"It’s okay," Jackie said, trying to ease the tension. "I just wanted to know how you feel about all this."
"I’ll always be by your side," Shauna repeated, this time more firmly. "No matter what happens."
It didn’t take long for them to reach the school. Jackie immediately made a beeline for Jeff, her steps quick and purposeful. Shauna rolled her eyes, watching her best friend move away from her without a second thought.
Jeff avoided eye contact, his usual awkwardness on full display. Shauna swallowed hard, watching the scene play out before her. She watched Jackie smile up at Jeff, eager to be in his orbit, and it made Shauna’s stomach twist.
She hated Jeff.
It was almost ironic, considering the fact that she had been sleeping with him regularly for the past two months. It was supposed to be a secret—a quiet, tangled mess that neither of them dared to talk about. But still, the weight of it all pressed down on her, and it was becoming harder to ignore.
Shauna hated this. She hated how Jackie—without even trying—made her do the worst things, like sleeping with her boyfriend. She hated the way it made her feel, the sense of guilt that gnawed at her. Every time they were together, the thought of Jackie in the back of her mind haunted her. The betrayal felt so sharp and so deep, yet… there was something about it that made it feel like the only thing she had left.
It didn’t make sense. The pain, the confusion. Everything about it was wrong. And yet, there was something satisfying, almost comforting, about the way Jeff held her, about the way their bodies fit together, even if it was all so tangled in deception.
But then, there was Jackie. And how she was everything that Shauna wanted. Everything that was right. And the worst part was, Shauna knew it—she was betraying her best friend, the person who meant more than anyone else.
Jackie was just so… infuriating.
Shauna had been accepted to Brown, and she was going. But Jackie couldn’t know that. Not because she was keeping it from her intentionally, but because Jackie had never cared enough to ask. Jackie just assumed that Shauna would go to Rutgers with her, because that was the only place Jackie could picture herself. Not because Shauna wasn’t smart enough to get into better schools—she was. It was because Jackie never bothered to look beyond what was right in front of her.
Jackie assumed everything would be just as she wanted it, and Shauna would follow along. Because that’s what Jackie always expected, right? For everyone to just fall into place around her. The truth was, Jackie never cared about academics. She never had to. She had everything else—popularity, influence, looks, and athleticism. Jackie was perfect, and she didn’t need to try hard in school to prove anything.
Shauna, though, was different. She needed this. The acceptance to Brown, an Ivy League school—it wasn’t just a number on a piece of paper. It was her future, her chance to break free from the limits that had been placed on her. It was everything she had worked for, everything that made her feel like she could be someone.
And yet, Shauna had to hide it. She had to pretend she was as committed to Rutgers as Jackie was. Because if Jackie knew the truth, if she knew Shauna was going somewhere else, somewhere better, it would change everything between them. And Shauna didn’t know if she could handle that.
Jackie never needed to care about the future the way Shauna did. Jackie had always been the golden girl, everything coming easy to her. Shauna had to fight for her place, for everything she had. And maybe that’s why she resented Jackie, in some twisted way. Because while Jackie had everything handed to her, Shauna had to claw her way through life.
And now, Shauna was going to Brown. No matter what Jackie thought. No matter how much it would hurt to leave their old life behind.
Lottie, who was also heading to Brown, had been trying to convince Shauna to tell Jackie.
Shauna remembered the conversation clearly—just the two of them, passing the ball back and forth on the field during practice, the sky dull and gray above them, the grass soft beneath their cleats.
"Have you told Jackie yet?" Lottie had asked casually, not looking directly at her, just tossing the ball with ease like it was any other day.
Shauna shook her head, her eyes locked on the ball at her feet. "No. And I don’t want to talk about this with her standing on the other side of the field."
Lottie didn’t let it go. She rarely did. "She’s going to find out, Shauna. Eventually. What are you going to do—tell her the day before you leave?"
Shauna let out a sharp breath, frustrated. "No. I don’t know. I just... I don’t know when the right time is."
"There won’t be a right time," Lottie said, her tone quiet but firm. "But the longer you let her plan your green-and-pink dorm room and talk about how you’re going to live together next year, the worse it’s going to be. And the harder it’ll be to fix it later."
The guilt flared in Shauna’s chest. She knew Lottie was right.
The truth was, maybe telling Jackie would mean losing her. But not telling her might lead to the same thing. Either way, she was stuck—staring down a choice where every outcome hurt.
"I don’t even know how to talk to her about this," Shauna admitted, her voice soft and brittle.
Lottie caught held the ball beneath her feet, pausing to look directly at her. "Shauna. If there’s one person in this entire world who knows how to talk to Jackie Taylor, it’s you."
Shauna had wanted to believe that, but lately that was not really the case. She had nodded, even smiled a little, trying to convince herself.
That conversation had been a month ago.
Now, with only one month left before they both left Wyskayok behind, the truth was still locked inside her. Waiting. Growing heavier every day.
But it wasn’t like Shauna wasn’t already a professional at lying to her best friend.
She was having an affair with Jackie’s boyfriend.
God, she hated herself.
But in a month, they wouldn’t be in Wyskayok anymore. All of this would be behind them. It might take time, but Jackie would understand why Shauna had chosen Brown. She’d come to see it wasn’t personal—it was just the future. And Jackie? Jackie would find someone better than Jeff. Eventually, she’d dump him, and Shauna wouldn’t have to carry the weight of this mistake into whatever came next.
Jeff would stay behind—where he belonged—and Jackie and Shauna would move forward together. Just like it was meant to be.
Shauna knew she was betting more on luck than she should’ve been. But at this point, what other choice did she really have?
The worst part was that Shauna knew better.
She knew how much Jackie loved Jeff—or at least how much she thought she did. She knew every look Jackie gave him, every time she talked about their future like it was something solid, something promised. Jackie had built a version of her life around that boy. Around the idea of him.
And Shauna had destroyed it in the quietest, most cowardly way.
It wasn’t even about Jeff. It had never really been about Jeff. That was the part that made it all so much worse. Jeff was just there—easy, dumb, willing. He didn’t know what she needed, not really, but he gave her a kind of attention she couldn’t get anywhere else. Not from Jackie. Not in the way she wanted it.
And that made her sick.
Because when it was over—when she was lying in the dark of her room, or standing under too-hot water in the shower, or walking alone down the halls of their dying high school—what stayed with her wasn’t the shame of touching Jeff. It was the thought of Jackie. Of what Jackie would do if she knew. The way her face would fall, slow and quiet, like it always did when she got hurt but refused to let it show. The way her voice would go flat. The way she’d say Shauna’s name like it was someone she used to know.
And Shauna couldn't bear it.
So she lied. About Jeff. About Brown. About everything that mattered.
It was easier to pretend—just for a little longer—that she and Jackie were still on the same path. That nothing had changed. That she hadn’t already broken the most important person in her life and was just waiting to feel the pieces fall.
She told herself it would all work out. That Jackie would get over Jeff. That she’d forgive the college thing. That somehow, when the dust settled, they’d still be them.
But deep down, Shauna knew she was building a future on borrowed time. And every minute she kept the truth buried, she was pushing Jackie further away—not just from her, but from the girl Jackie thought she knew. The one Shauna used to be, before she started lying. Before she started taking.
And if Jackie ever found out who she really was now… she wouldn’t just lose her. She’d lose the version of herself she liked best. The one she only got to be when she was standing beside Jackie Taylor.
They only saw each other again at lunch, at the Yellowjackets’ table.
Jackie dropped her tray beside Shauna’s and sat down with a bright smile, like nothing in the world had changed. Like things were still easy.
Even Natalie was sitting with them these days. It felt like everyone was trying—just a little—to soak up what time they had left. The season was over, graduation was creeping in, and there was this unspoken agreement to hold onto the last scraps of familiarity while they could.
"I seriously can’t wait for Harvard," Taissa said between bites of her sandwich, her tone nonchalant, but with that usual spark of ambition that never quite left her voice.
Everyone groaned good-naturedly.
"God, you’re so pretentious," Mari teased, grinning.
"Just a little." Jackie added with a laugh.
Laura Lee, ever the one to keep things light, leaned forward. "Is anyone actually planning to keep playing in college?"
Nat shrugged, chewing slowly. "I got a scholarship for it, so… yeah. Guess I have to."
Jackie perked up immediately. "Same. I seriously can’t wait to play against you at nationals someday. You’re going down, Scatorccio."
Nat rolled her eyes, but there was a ghost of a smile there. "Please. You’ll be lucky if you survive the first round."
Lottie stirred her juice and spoke up next. "I wish I could, but… with business school and everything at Brown, I doubt I’ll have the time."
"Wait," Mari said, blinking at her. "That makes two pretentious Ivy Leaguers at this table."
Everyone laughed, even Tai. Jackie was mid-sip from her water bottle when she caught it—a glance from Lottie to Shauna. Brief. Weighted.
And Shauna—Shauna immediately looked down, like she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t have.
Lottie, sensing the shift in the air—or maybe just choosing to ignore it—tilted her head and smiled.
"Okay, but... does everyone already know what they’re wearing to the party?"
Just like that, the tension cracked, and conversation rushed in to fill the gap.
"Oh my God," Mari groaned dramatically. "I literally have nothing. I’ve tried on, like, six outfits and I hate them all."
"You always say that and then show up looking like a model," Van muttered, sipping her soda.
Jackie perked up, glad for the distraction. "I’m thinking the gold dress. The one with the slit? Feels appropriate for the end of an era, right?"
"Very ‘goodbye, high school—hello, chaos,’" Mari said with a smirk.
Laura Lee frowned playfully. "Just don’t get arrested."
"No promises," Nat said under her breath, and the table laughed.
Then Lottie leaned back, like she’d been waiting for the right moment.
"My parents aren’t gonna be home this weekend, obviously. So… why don’t we all just crash at my place after the party? Bring pajamas, toothbrushes, whatever."
"Sleepover after the end-of-the-world bash? I’m in," Tai said immediately.
"Same," said Mari.
Jackie clapped her hands once. "Perfect. That way we can be hungover and disgusting together like a real team."
Shauna smiled faintly, but she nodded along with the rest of them.
Everyone agreed—it was set.
The rest of the week dragged by with a strange kind of weightless inertia.
Classes still happened, but no one was really paying attention—not the teachers, not the students. Everyone was just... waiting. Floating in that liminal space between high school and everything that came after. The grades were in, the college decisions made. No one was pretending to care about worksheets or pop quizzes anymore.
Practice still happened too, but it wasn’t really practice. There were no more games, no more stakes. Just running drills they all knew by heart, half-speed sprints, lazy passes across the field. They laughed more than they played. They lingered on the turf long after they were supposed to leave, laying in the grass and talking about things they’d probably forget in a year.
And yet—no one wanted to go home early. Not really.
This was the end, and they all felt it, even if no one was saying it out loud. So they stayed, stretched time, filled the gaps with old jokes and new silences, trying to memorize the way it felt to be a team before they stopped being one.
Then Saturday came.
Shauna pulled up outside Jackie’s house just as the sun was starting to sink behind the trees, turning the whole street a lazy gold. The same spot she always parked in. The same worn horn she always tapped twice.
Beep beep.
She waited, hands gripping the steering wheel.
They were going to Lottie’s house early to get ready before the party. Just like they’d done for homecoming, for regionals, for every big moment before this one.
Lottie’s house was already glowing by the time Shauna and Jackie arrived—golden light spilling from the front windows, music floating faintly through the warm early evening air. Her parents, as promised, were nowhere to be seen. The house was theirs for the night.
Inside, the rest of the Yellowjackets were already spread out across the living room and upstairs hallway, bags open, makeup scattered across coffee tables and bathroom counters, curling irons heating beside bottles of cheap vodka and peach schnapps.
It smelled like hairspray, perfume, and something vaguely citrusy someone had spilled on the carpet.
They were all already half-laughing, half-drunk.
Nat was doing Mari’s eyeliner while Mari tried—and failed—to sit still. Tai and Van were arguing over who had stolen whose top. Laura Lee was painting her nails lemon yellow on a towel in the corner. Lottie floated between everyone with the easy calm of someone who had already accepted the chaos, dressed in silk pajamas and sipping from a wine glass like this was just another pregame at a country club.
Shauna and Jackie were greeted like royalty.
"Finally!" Tai called, tossing a scrunchie at them. "We thought you were ditching us."
"As if," Jackie said, grinning, already shrugging off her jacket and dropping her overnight bag onto the pile.
Shauna stayed a little quieter, slipping behind her friend as the wave of noise and nostalgia swept them both up.
There was music—someone had put on a playlist that felt like a time capsule of the last four years: early 2000s radio hits, songs they’d played in locker rooms, in cars, in basements. Every lyric felt like it had history.
They did their makeup in pairs, trading mascara wands and inside jokes. Someone passed a flask around. Someone else dug into the snacks Lottie had barely remembered to put out. They took turns in the mirror, adjusting straps and fixing hair and laughing too hard at stories they’d all heard a thousand times.
"Remember freshman year, when Coach made us run laps in the rain because Mari wore glitter to practice?" Nat said.
"It was homecoming week!" Mari protested, mouth full of popcorn. "I was being festive."
"You looked like a disco ball," Van added.
"I was a disco ball."
Talk of the future came in soft waves—colleges, roommates, big-city plans.
"I don’t even know if I’ll keep playing," Van admitted quietly at one point. "It just feels weird thinking about doing it without you guys."
There was a pause, a kind of collective inhale. The ache of almost-goodbye settling in again.
"We’ll keep in touch," Jackie said firmly. "We’ll make it happen."
Everyone nodded.
No one was quite sure if they believed it.
But for now, they were together. Still a team. Still girls in glitter, painting their faces for one last night of being exactly who they’d always been.
Downstairs, the noise from the party was starting to swell—doors opening, music growing louder, the low thrum of conversation and laughter as people began to arrive. But in Lottie’s bedroom, the world was still soft, still quiet.
Everyone else had already headed downstairs, voices trailing behind them like echoes. Only Shauna and Jackie remained, finishing the last touches of getting ready in the golden-hued light filtering through the curtains.
Jackie was bent over slightly, steadying Shauna’s face gently with one hand as she finished the winged eyeliner with the other, tongue poking out slightly in concentration.
"Stop blinking," Jackie murmured, her tone light but focused.
"I’m not blinking," Shauna whispered back, breath catching a little from how close they were.
"There." Jackie pulled back, admiring her own work. "You look beautiful, Shipman."
Shauna blinked, this time on purpose. She looked at Jackie, still so close, and tried not to let the compliment sink too deep.
"You’re always beautiful," she said softly.
Jackie rolled her eyes in that effortless, performative way she always did when she didn’t know how to take something seriously. But there was a small smile on her lips too, the kind that only appeared when she was actually touched.
"You ready?" Jackie asked, turning slightly toward the mirror, smoothing down her dress. "For our goodbye party?"
Shauna hesitated just a beat too long. Then: "Yeah. I’m ready."
Jackie spun around with a laugh, the moment diffusing like perfume in the air. "Good. You better enjoy it. After this, it’s nothing but lame frat parties and dorm mixers at Rutgers for us."
Shauna’s throat tightened.
"Yeah," she said, forcing the smile. "Rutgers."
The silence that followed pressed down around them like fog.
Shauna reached for her lip gloss, fidgeting with the cap, then glanced toward the door. "We should go down. I think people are starting to show up."
Jackie nodded, adjusting one last strap on her heel before heading toward the hallway. "Let’s do it. Before Mari finishes the vodka without us."
Shauna followed her out, her smile steady but slipping at the edges
The party was in full swing now—warm, chaotic, loud. The house throbbed with bass-heavy music and the blur of too many voices layered over one another. Most of the team was already drunk, scattered across Lottie’s house in a dozen different pockets of chaos: at the kitchen table playing card games and shouting over rounds of Never Have I Ever, packed around the beer pong table, piled onto the makeshift dance floor in the living room.
Shauna sat on the couch, a red Solo cup half-crushed in her hand, feeling the heat of the room stick to her skin.
She wasn’t drunk enough. Not for this.
From across the room, she could see Jackie. Of course she could. Jackie was always easy to spot—bright, magnetic, unmistakable. She was on the dance floor now, laughing as Jeff spun her around by the wrist, her dress catching the light, her cheeks flushed pink with alcohol and happiness.
Shauna watched her, her stomach twisting into something sour and sharp.
How could Jeff do it? How could he stand there like that, smiling like he hadn’t spent the last two months betraying the girl he claimed to love?
How could he lie so easily? How could he not even flinch when Jackie looked up at him like he was her whole world?
It made Shauna’s blood boil. Not just with guilt—but with rage.
Because at least Shauna hated herself for what she was doing. At least she woke up every day knowing how wrong it was. Jeff didn’t care. Jeff was perfectly fine hurting Jackie in the dark and holding her hand in the light.
He danced with her like she was his.
And Shauna—God—she wanted to get up, walk across the room, and blow it all up. She wanted to tell Jackie the truth, shake her, scream at her if that’s what it took. She wanted to prove that Jeff wasn’t right for her. That he never had been.
That maybe—just maybe—the person who was right for her was standing ten feet away, heart breaking quietly.
But that wasn’t true either, was it?
Because Shauna wasn’t right for Jackie. Not like this. Not when she was still lying. Still too much of a coward to tell her about Brown. Still hiding in every way that mattered.
So instead, she just tipped her cup back and finished her drink in one long, bitter swallow.
And kept watching.
Eventually, Jackie found her.
She dropped down onto the couch beside Shauna, slightly out of breath, hair a little messy from dancing. Her cheeks were still flushed, eyes bright with the haze of too many drinks and too little care.
"Hey," Jackie said, nudging Shauna with her shoulder. "How are you holding up?"
Shauna glanced at her, then looked away again. "I’m fine."
Jackie laughed, tipsy and loud and soft all at once. "God, you’re clearly drunk. You only get all moody like this when you start getting tipsy."
Shauna rolled her eyes but didn’t smile. I’m not drunk, she thought. I’m irritated. And not because of the alcohol. Because of you. Always you.
But all she said was, "I’m fine. Really."
Jackie leaned her head back against the couch and stared at the ceiling for a second. "Then come dance with me."
Shauna shook her head, staring into her empty cup. "I’m not drunk enough yet."
Jackie groaned. "Fine, fine. But I’m holding you to it. I’m coming back for you later. Don’t forget."
"I won’t."
Jackie stood up, brushing imaginary dust off her skirt. "I’m just gonna go touch up my lipstick. Upstairs. In Lottie’s room. You coming?"
Shauna hesitated. It was one of those tiny moments—one of the little cracks where everything could go one way or another.
But she shook her head. "Nah. I’m good."
Jackie didn’t seem bothered. She just leaned down and kissed Shauna’s cheek, soft and easy, like she always did. Like it didn’t mean anything. Like it didn’t shatter something inside of Shauna every single time. Like this wasn’t the last time that would happen in months; in Shauna’s head, forever.
"Don’t disappear," Jackie said, already turning toward the stairs.
And Shauna just watched her go, the sound of her footsteps fading up the hall.
She should’ve gone with her.
If she had known—if she had known—what was about to happen, she would’ve gone. She would’ve stood up, followed Jackie up those stairs, said anything to stop what was coming.
But she didn’t.
And Jackie found her journal
Jackie knew it was wrong.
She knew it the second she stepped into Lottie’s room, and saw Shauna’s bag wide open, her journal peeking out from the side. She knew it was wrong to even think about it. To even let her fingers hover for a moment over the worn leather cover.
But curiosity gnawed at her, sharper than her conscience. She had to know.
Maybe, she told herself, in Shauna’s journal, there would be answers. Things Shauna had never said aloud—things she’d never told Jackie. Maybe it would help her understand. Maybe it would fix whatever was slowly breaking between them.
Jackie knew it was wrong, but that didn’t stop her. Not when her hands were already trembling, not when the alcohol blurred the edges of her judgment. She pulled the journal out of the bag, the weight of it almost comforting, as if it was meant to be in her hands.
She sat on Lottie’s bed, her heart thumping too loudly in her chest. She couldn’t quite breathe right as she cracked open the journal. The pages felt almost sacred under her fingers, the ink and paper alive with secrets that she had no right to uncover.
But she opened it anyway.
And the words—God, the words—stung harder than she could’ve ever imagined.
Every line, every sentence, felt like a hammer to her chest. Shauna’s honesty, raw and bleeding, was there in black ink. Her fears, her guilt, her confusion. Jackie read, and the deeper she got, the more her stomach twisted in knots.
Shauna had been hiding more than she ever let on. About her own pain, about what she was doing—what they both were doing. But the worst part? The worst part was how Jackie’s name kept appearing. Over and over, like a thread weaving through every thought, every unsaid thing.
And then there it was.
The truth.
She was going to Brown. She never planned to go to Rutgers.
Shauna had been lying to her. She’d been lying about so much more than just her feelings. She hadn’t even told Jackie the most important truth. The truth that could’ve shattered everything.
Jackie’s hands shook, but she couldn’t stop reading. Every word felt like a betrayal. But it was her own fault, wasn't it? She shouldn’t have been curious. She shouldn’t have let herself go this far.
But now that she knew, now that she had seen it all, there was no going back.
Jackie thought about stopping there. She could have, right? She could’ve put the journal down and pretended she hadn’t seen it. That maybe, if she just ignored the fact that Shauna had lied about Rutgers, ignored the fact that they weren’t going to college together like they’d always planned, that everything could go back to normal. But the tears blurred her vision, her breath coming short in her chest, and she couldn’t stop herself.
She kept reading.
And then, there it was. Her heart froze, the air leaving her lungs in a sharp gasp.
Jeff.
Shauna had written about him. Not just once, but over and over again. The words were like knives in Jackie’s gut, each sentence carving deeper into the trust she thought she had with Shauna.
She hated him, but she couldn’t stop.
She wasn’t supposed to be with him. She knew that. She knew it wasn’t right.
Jackie felt sick. The words were spilling from the pages like poison, like Shauna’s secret had been waiting all this time to rip her apart. Shauna had been lying to her, to both of them, pretending everything was fine while she was in Jeff’s bed, betraying Jackie with the one person she should’ve never trusted.
The words kept coming, each one another blow to Jackie’s heart.
I hate myself for this...
Jackie’s vision swam, the tears now blurring the ink on the pages. She couldn’t breathe, her chest tightening as if the weight of the betrayal was crushing her from the inside out. Her hands were shaking violently now, and she almost dropped the journal, but she gripped it tighter.
Jackie felt her heart crack into a thousand pieces. The realization was too much, the pain too sharp. Shauna had been lying to her. She had been hiding everything—her feelings, her guilt, her secret relationship with Jeff—and now, Jackie could barely recognize the person she thought she knew.
She sat there, alone in Lottie’s room, clutching the journal to her chest as the world spun around her. The party, the laughter, the music—it all felt so far away, like she was no longer a part of it. She was lost in this world of lies, and everything she thought she knew was slipping through her fingers.
She had wanted the truth. She had asked for it. But now that she had it, she wished she could unsee it.
Her chest ached, and she finally let the tears fall, the weight of everything sinking in. Shauna was never going to be the person she thought she was.
And Jackie? She wasn’t sure who she was anymore, either.
Jackie’s head was spinning. The alcohol had taken hold, and the pain in her chest only intensified with every breath she took. The journal. The lies. The betrayal.
She couldn’t stay still anymore.
She had to confront Shauna.
Without thinking, she got up from the bed, clutching the journal like it was the only thing keeping her tethered to reality. Her hands were shaking, but she didn’t care. Her thoughts were a blur, fueled by hurt, anger, and confusion.
She stumbled down the stairs, not bothering to hide her unsteady steps, the chaotic music from the party vibrating through the walls. Shauna had to know what she’d found. She had to know what she’d done.
She entered the living room, and her eyes locked on Shauna, sitting on the couch, laughing at something Tai had said. For a moment, the room seemed to slow down. Shauna’s smile. The way she tilted her head. Jackie’s heart thudded in her chest.
Before she could stop herself, she stormed across the room, throwing the journal in Shauna’s chest.
“You lied to me!” Jackie’s voice was loud, slurred, her words coming out faster than she could even process. The room fell silent as everyone turned to look at them, only the music left playing.
Shauna froze, her eyes widening, and Jackie felt a surge of satisfaction. “You’ve been lying to me this whole time!” she repeated, her voice shaking with emotion. “About everything!”
Shauna stood up, trying to back away, but Jackie wouldn’t let her. “I read it, Shauna. I read your fucking journal. You’ve been hiding everything from me. All this time, you—” Her voice cracked, and she didn’t even know how to finish. “You’re going to Brown, aren't you? And all this time, you’ve been pretending we were going to Rutgers together!”
Shauna’s face turned pale. “Jackie—”
“No!” Jackie shouted. “And you’re fucking Jeff! You’ve been fucking him all along. That’s why you’ve been acting like a stranger! You’re fucking him while pretending to be my friend.”
The words hung in the air, heavy with anger and betrayal. Shauna’s eyes flickered with guilt and something else Jackie couldn’t place—fear, maybe.
“That’s enough,” Shauna said, her voice low and shaking.
But Jackie wasn’t done. “No, you don’t get to say that, Shauna. Not when you’ve been lying to me, not when you’ve been making me look like a fool.”
Shauna took a step forward, her fists clenching, her face flushing with anger. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You have no idea what’s going on.”
“Oh, I have plenty of idea, Shauna,” Jackie hissed, leaning in, her breath heavy and harsh.
But before things could escalate any further, the group of girls surrounding them shifted uncomfortably. Lottie was the first to step in, her hand on Jackie’s arm, her voice firm. “Okay, that’s enough. Both of you.”
Tai and Van immediately moved in, grabbing Shauna’s arms gently but firmly, leading her away from the confrontation. “Come on, Jackie, you need to calm down,” Tai said, her voice unusually stern.
Lottie, meanwhile, pulled Jackie back, practically dragging her towards the staircase. “This is not happening here. We’re getting you both upstairs. Misty!” Lottie shouted, looking towards the hallway. “Get everyone out of this damn house.”
Misty appeared at the top of the stairs, her face caught between confusion and concern. “What’s going on?” she asked, but Lottie didn’t waste any time explaining.
“Just do it, Misty. Get everyone out. Now.”
Lottie, Tai, and Van managed to get Jackie and Shauna to Lottie’s room, pushing them both inside the dimly lit space. The tension was thick, the walls pressing in as the door slammed shut behind them. The noise of the party was muffled, but the storm inside the room was just beginning.
Jackie was pacing back and forth, seething while Shauna stood in the center of the room, avoiding Jackie’s gaze. She was clearly shaken, but Jackie couldn’t bring herself to care.
“Do you have anything else to say to me, Shauna?” Jackie’s voice was sharp, almost venomous now. “Are you going to lie some more? Tell me that I’m imagining everything? That I don’t know what I read?”
Shauna stayed silent, her arms crossed tightly, her eyes still downcast. Jackie wasn’t sure if she was ashamed, scared, or just exhausted by it all. But Jackie was beyond feeling any sympathy at that point.
“You’ve destroyed everything,” Jackie muttered. “You know that, right? Everything. All the trust we had… It’s all gone.”
There was a long, heavy silence, broken only by the muffled sounds of the party downstairs. The only thing louder than their breathing was the unspoken distance between them.
The echo of Jackie’s voice still hung in the room. Shauna stood frozen, fists clenched at her sides, her chest rising and falling with uneven breaths.
Her eyes locked on Jackie’s, wet with disbelief and betrayal.
“You read my journal,” Shauna said, her voice sharp and low, like something she was forcing herself to keep under control — but barely.
Jackie didn’t deny it. She couldn’t. Her eyes were already brimming with tears, her face tight with emotion.
“How could you?” she asked, her voice cracking under the weight of what she was feeling. “You were my best friend. You don’t even like him!”
Shauna felt something sting at her core. Because Jackie was right — she didn’t like Jeff. God, she hated him. She hated his smug face, the way he looked at Jackie like she was a prize, the way he acted like he wasn’t complicit in all of this. But more than that, she hated the way Jackie always looked at him like he was worth all the chaos. She was angry — so fucking angry — and not just at herself. She was always angry at Jackie.
“And how would you know?” Shauna snapped, taking a step forward. “You’re so obsessed with yourself I’m surprised you’re aware other people even exist.”
Jackie flinched. Shauna kept going.
“You know you never even asked me if I wanted to go to Rutgers? You just assumed I would go wherever you wanted. You tell me what to wear, what to do, who to hook up with—”
Her voice cracked, but she pushed through it.
“I don’t even like soccer! But you just get everything you want. All the time. Like it’s nothing. And the rest of us? We’re just extras in the movie of your fucking life.”
Jackie’s mouth opened, but for a moment, she said nothing. She blinked like she’d been slapped, like she couldn’t quite process that the girl standing in front of her — the girl she’d shared every piece of her life with since they were six — had actually said all of that out loud.
Then the pain twisted into something bitter and cruel.
“My god, you are such a cliché,” Jackie said, her voice thick and sharp with tears. “Oh, is the sad little sidekick mad?”
Her sarcasm wasn’t even subtle anymore. She wanted to hurt Shauna. She wanted to wound her so deeply she wouldn’t be able to just walk away and feel nothing.
“Did I force you to live in my shadow, Shauna?” Jackie continued, her words like knives. “It must be hard being this jealous all the time.”
Shauna let out a bitter, disbelieving laugh.
Jackie pressed on, not letting herself stop.
“What? You’re so jealous of me you can barely breathe.”
Shauna stared at her like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
“Are you quoting Beaches at me right now?”
And Jackie wanted to disappear. Fuck. She was quoting Beaches. Her brain had gone to autopilot and, even now, even through all this mess, her heart had gone straight to the place where Shauna had always lived — buried deep in her, impossible to root out. She couldn't think of anything else to say.
Jackie tried to cover it.
“What? No.”
But Shauna’s voice was colder now. Clear. Like steel.
“I’m not jealous of you, Jackie. I feel sorry for you. Because you’re weak. And I think deep down, you know it. I know you, Jackie. But you can relax—” she stepped closer, her voice a quiet, deadly blade— “they’ll never know how tragic and boring and insecure you really are. Or how high school is the best your life is ever gonna get.”
The room pulsed with silence.
And then, the door burst open.
Nat, Lottie, Van, Tai, and Mari were standing in the hallway, faces tense, all of them clearly having heard more than enough. The air was thick with tension, and the volume of their fight had peeled through the house like a siren.
“Okay,” Nat said, holding up her hands, her voice firm but careful. “Maybe it’s best if you two stop here. Talk about this another time.”
But neither of them moved. Neither of them even looked at her.
Jackie’s eyes were locked on Shauna, her face flushed and soaked in tears, her whole body trembling — not just from anger, but from heartbreak. From betrayal. From the ache of loving someone more than they ever loved you back.
And Shauna just stared back, like she’d already accepted that something sacred had been burned to the ground.
Jackie stood there, her chest heaving with the weight of her emotions. Her eyes, red and swollen from crying, locked onto Shauna with a mixture of disbelief and sorrow.
"Fuck you. I can't even look at you," Jackie whispered, her voice trembling. "I don't even know who you are anymore."
Shauna's heart ached at the words, but she couldn't let herself show it. She had to be strong, had to stand her ground.
"Or maybe you never did," she replied, her voice steady but laced with pain.
Before Jackie could respond, Natalie stepped forward, placing herself between the two friends, her presence commanding attention.
"Okay, that's fucking enough," Natalie said firmly. "This has gone on long enough. We're done here."
Jackie wiped her tears away aggressively, as if trying to erase the vulnerability she had just shown. She grabbed her bag, her movements sharp and deliberate.
"I'm leaving," Jackie declared, her voice cold and final.
Shauna remained silent, her mind racing. She felt a storm of emotions—guilt, anger, devastation. Everything she had known, everything she had relied on, was slipping away. The bond with Jackie, once unbreakable, was now shattered beyond repair.
“You can’t leave by yourself at this hour, Jackie.” Nat replied, angry.
Jackie, however, was already on her way down the stairs, her footsteps echoing in the quiet house. Natalie, Lottie, and Mari followed quickly behind her, leaving Shauna standing in Lottie's room, feeling more alone than ever.
Tai and Van remained with Shauna, their presence a silent support. Tai glanced at her, her brow furrowed in concern.
"What the hell, Shauna?" Tai asked softly.
Shauna shook her head, her emotions too raw to articulate. She reached for a bottle of vodka sitting on a nearby table, unscrewed the cap, and took a long swig, the burn of the alcohol matching the ache in her chest.
"You should go down there," Tai suggested gently. "Apologize to Jackie. You’re drunk, you’ll both regret this later."
Shauna let out a bitter laugh, the sound hollow and humorless.
"Jackie, Jackie, Jackie," she muttered, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "It's always about Jackie, isn't it? Why can't she apologize to me?"
Shauna fucking hated that for herself it was always about Jackie, too.
Van, who had been silent until now, spoke up, her voice low and measured.
"Because you slept with her boyfriend, called her pathetic, tragic, insecure, and a failure," Van said quietly. Tai looked at Van, a look of love but repreension in her eyes, Shauna met her gaze with a steely determination.
"Fuck it," Shauna muttered, her voice hardening. She grabbed the bottle of vodka and walked toward the back door, not to find Jackie, but to escape—to be alone.
As she stepped outside, the cool night air hit her face, offering a brief respite from the storm inside. She made her way to the pool area, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions.
As she passed the living room, she saw that Jackie was no longer there, and neither were Natalie, Lottie, or Mari.
Good, Shauna thought bitterly. I wasn't going to talk to her anyway.
She took another swig from the bottle, the alcohol burning its way down her throat, and stared out at the pool, the water reflecting the dim light of the moon. The world felt distant, unreal, as if she were watching everything from behind a glass wall.
Her life, her friendships, everything she had known, was unraveling. And in that moment, she didn't know who she was anymore.
The night air was cold and still, broken only by the sound of footsteps on pavement and the occasional swig from a bottle. Jackie walked along the sidewalk of Lottie’s neighborhood, the nearly empty vodka bottle gripped tight in one hand, tears streaming down her face. She was crying openly now, not even trying to hide it. Every step felt heavier than the last, like she was dragging the pieces of herself behind her.
Behind her, Nat, Lottie, and Mari followed at a cautious distance. They didn’t speak, not at first — it was clear Jackie didn’t want to be followed, but none of them were willing to leave her like that. Eventually, they caught up with her just outside a small park in the neighborhood, and Mari gently reached out to stop her.
“Jackie, please,” Nat said, her voice soft but steady.
Jackie hesitated, then dropped down onto the edge of a stone planter near the swingset, her breathing shaky. The others joined her quietly, settling into the silence, letting her be the first to speak.
Nat tried to keep her voice neutral, soothing. “You should come back to the house. You and Shauna were both drunk. Just get some sleep, talk it out tomorrow.”
Jackie let out a hollow, bitter laugh, not even looking up. “You think this is something we can just talk out?” she asked. “That we’ll wake up tomorrow and pretend none of this ever happened?”
She wiped at her eyes roughly with the sleeve of her jacket, then looked at Nat with a kind of heartbreak that was too raw to hide.
“She lied to me about everything. All this time. And not once— not once did she seem sorry.”
Mari opened her mouth to speak but closed it again, unsure what could be said.
Jackie shook her head, laughing again, this time more bitterly. “Do any of you know when she started hating me? Like, was there a moment? Because I didn’t see it coming. She was supposed to be my best friend.”
None of them answered. Lottie looked down at her hands. Nat just stared into the distance. The silence was answer enough.
Jackie took another long pull from the bottle and exhaled hard. “I’m such an idiot,” she muttered, voice cracking. “But it doesn’t matter anymore.”
The bottle slipped slightly in her hands, and she caught it before it hit the pavement. She didn’t cry again — not then. She just sat there, like all the energy she had left had been burned through.
Jackie sat on the stone bench, the weight of the night pressing down on her. The vodka bottle was now half-empty, its contents offering little comfort. Her mind raced, replaying the events, the words, the betrayals. She felt adrift, lost in a sea of emotions she couldn't navigate.
Nat, sitting beside her, broke the silence. "Look, Jackie, this whole thing is a mess, okay? I'm sorry for what happened. You didn't deserve this. But it's happened, and we can't just stand here in the middle of the street. Can you please come back with us?"
Jackie shook her head, her voice barely a whisper. "I can't."
Lottie, who had been quietly observing, sighed deeply. "Alright, Jackie. You don't have to go back. I'll get my car and take you home."
Nat interjected quickly, "Lottie, you're drunk."
Lottie met her gaze, a wry smile tugging at her lips. "The tension has definitely sobered me up."
Mari, who had been silent until now, spoke up, her voice tinged with frustration. "So Jackie has to go home while Shauna stays at the party? That's not fair. Shauna's the one who messed up."
Nat rolled her eyes, trying to keep the peace. "Don't start, Mari. Jackie probably doesn't even want to be at the party, and it doesn't look like there's going to be one anymore."
Lottie stood up, determination in her posture. "I'm going to get the car and take Jackie home. You two stay here."
As Lottie walked away, Jackie remained seated, her thoughts swirling. "She didn't even tell me about college. Everything was set, and now... now I have a month. A damn month to find someone else to room with."
After a long pause, Nat sighed, her voice soft. "Why not me?"
Jackie furrowed her brow, confused. "You're going to Boston, Natalie."
Natalie met her gaze, unwavering. "And you can go too. I know Shauna thinks your life peaked in high school, Jackie, but that's just teenage bullshit. Your life can be so much more. I know you got a scholarship like I did to go to Boston. You should come with me, Taylor. You're really good at soccer. You were the captain of the team that won nationals. You should be where you deserve to be: on a real team that competes for real. Forget Rutgers. Let's go to Boston."
Jackie looked at her, the weight of the decision heavy on her shoulders.
Lottie didn’t take long to pull up in front of the park. Her headlights cut through the quiet night, casting long shadows across the pavement. Jackie stood up, brushing off her skirt, still clutching the bottle loosely in one hand like an anchor to keep her steady.
“Rest,” Nat told her softly. “Just… think about Boston, okay?”
Jackie gave a small nod, but her eyes stayed unfocused, like she wasn’t really seeing them anymore.
The car ride was silent. Lottie didn’t try to fill the quiet, and Jackie was grateful for that. She stared out the window the whole time, watching Wiskayok blur by in the dark. Her tears didn’t fall loudly—there was no sobbing, no drama—just silent, steady streaks down her face as her thoughts looped over and over.
Shauna. Jeff. The look on Shauna’s face when she said those words.
The journal.
Boston.
You should come with me, Taylor.
By the time they pulled up in front of her house, Jackie was hollow. She thanked Lottie with a tight nod and went inside without looking back.
Three days later, Jackie Taylor walked on couch Martinez’ office.
“Jackie? Everything alright?”
Jackie nodded once, firm. “Can you talk to Boston?”
The coach blinked, then smiled—like he’d been waiting for her to say it all along.