Naomi
The confirmation page glows on the laptop screen. *Your application has been received.* It’s a quiet declaration of war. My own private rebellion, executed in the heart of enemy territory. My hands don’t shake. My breathing is even. The girl who cried herself to sleep over a scraped knee is gone. The woman who stands here now feels nothing but the cold, clean burn of purpose.
I close the laptop, the soft click sealing the decision. I need to get out. I move through his room, a ghost in a place that felt like heaven an hour ago. My clothes are in a heap on his armchair. I pick them up, the scent of my perfume now mingled with his. It makes my stomach clench.
I dress quickly, mechanically. My fingers feel clumsy on the buttons of my shirt. I can’t look in the mirror again. I can’t face the girl with the bruised neck and the dead eyes.
My shoes are by the door. I slip them on and open it a crack, listening. The house is quiet. I slip out, pulling the door shut without a sound. Each step down the grand, carpeted staircase is a step away from him, a step toward myself. I reach the front door and let myself out into the cool morning air.
The walk back to my foster parents’ house next door takes less than a minute, but it feels like crossing a continent. I let myself in the back door, the familiar squeak of the hinge a sound from another lifetime.
“There you are.”
I jump. Trevor is standing in the kitchen doorway, a half-eaten piece of toast in his hand. His brow is furrowed with concern.
“I was getting ready for graduation,” I say. My voice sounds flat, unfamiliar even to me.
“Nate’s been calling. He said you were gone when he got back.” He takes a step closer. “Are you okay, El? You look… pale.”
“I’m fine, Trevor. Just tired.”
“Tired? Naomi, last night happened. I know it did. Nate’s on cloud nine. He told me he’s going to talk to my parents today, make things official.”
Each word is a fresh twist of the knife. He’s happy. Of course he is. He got his warm-up. His practice run.
“That’s nice,” I say, my voice a perfect imitation of polite disinterest. I walk past him toward the stairs.
“Nice? That’s all you have to say?” He follows me, his voice rising with disbelief. “Naomi, this is what you’ve wanted forever. It’s what he’s wanted, too, even if he’s an idiot about showing it.”
I stop on the bottom step and turn to face him. “It was one night, Trevor. It’s not that serious.”
His jaw drops. “Not that serious? You’re joking, right? This is Nathan we’re talking about. You can’t just… treat him like he’s nothing.”
The irony is so bitter it nearly chokes me. “I’m not. I’m just saying people are making it into a bigger deal than it is.”
“People? *He* is making it a big deal. He’s talking about forever.”
“Well, maybe he shouldn’t,” I say, and the ice in my tone finally makes him flinch. “I need to get ready. The ceremony is in two hours.”
I don’t wait for a reply. I walk up to my room and lock the door behind me.
An hour later, I’m showered and dressed in my cap and gown. My foster mom, Sarah, knocks on the door.
“Naomi, honey? Can I come in?”
I take a deep breath, pasting a smile on my face before I open the door. “Hi, Mom.”
Her eyes are misty. “Oh, look at you. My brilliant girl. All grown up and ready to take on the world.” She fusses with my tassel. “I can’t believe you’ll be at Caltech in just a few short months. Our own little rocket scientist.”
The lie tastes like ash in my mouth. “I’m really excited.”
“We’re so proud of you. Tom and I, and Trevor… and Nathan. He’s practically family, you know. He’s going to miss you like crazy.”
“I’m sure he’ll manage,” I say, keeping my smile fixed in place.
The graduation ceremony is a blur. Names are called, speeches are made. I sit between two girls I barely know, my hands clasped tightly in my lap. I scan the rows of graduates until I find him. He’s looking right at me. When our eyes meet, a brilliant, possessive smile spreads across his face. He thinks he owns me.
I give him a small, tight nod and immediately look away, focusing on the speaker at the podium. I can feel his gaze on me for the rest of the ceremony, a physical pressure I refuse to acknowledge.
Afterward, it’s chaos. Families and friends flood the field, a sea of flowers and balloons. My foster parents find me first, crushing me in hugs.
“Congratulations, sweetie!” Tom booms, clapping me on the back.
“We knew you could do it!” Sarah says, her voice thick with emotion.
Then a shadow falls over us. “There she is.”
Nathan’s voice. It’s low and proprietary. I don’t turn around.
“Nathan, congratulations!” Sarah says, pulling him into a one-armed hug. “We were just saying how proud we are of you both.”
“Thank you, Sarah,” he says, but his eyes are locked on the back of my head. “Can I borrow Naomi for a minute? I haven’t had a chance to talk to her all day.”
“Of course,” Tom says with a wink. “Go on, you two.”
A warm hand closes around my arm. The touch that sent shivers down my spine last night now makes my skin crawl. I finally turn to face him.
“Congratulations, Nathan,” I say, my tone perfectly level.
He looks confused, his smile faltering slightly. “Is that all I get? I was hoping for something a little more enthusiastic.” He lowers his voice. “I missed waking up with you.”
“I had to get ready,” I say, pulling my arm gently from his grasp. “It’s a big day.”
“It’s the first day of the rest of our lives,” he corrects me, his stormy eyes intense. “We need to talk. About last night. About what comes next.”
I give him the same plastic smile I gave my foster mother. “Last night was lovely, but there’s nothing to talk about. Now if you’ll excuse me, my parents are taking me for a celebratory lunch.”
I turn my back on his stunned face and walk toward my family, not looking back. “I’m starving,” I announce. “Where are we going?”
Back at the house, the celebration feels like a wake. I pretend to listen to stories, smile at jokes, and accept congratulations from neighbors who stop by. My mind is three thousand miles away, plotting.
I wait until Sarah is alone in the kitchen, refilling a pitcher of iced tea.
“Mom, I have some incredible news,” I begin, forcing my voice to sound breathless with excitement.
“What is it, honey?”
“I just got an email. It’s a last-minute invitation. There’s a special summer program at Caltech for top scholarship recipients. It’s an amazing opportunity, a chance to work directly with Dr. Albright.”
Her face lights up. “Naomi, that’s wonderful! When is it?”
This is the hard part. “It starts Monday. I have to leave tonight.”
Her smile vanishes. “Tonight? But your flight isn’t for another week. We were going to have a proper family dinner, a real send-off.”
“I know, and I’m so sorry. But this is… it’s a once-in-a-lifetime chance. I can’t miss it.”
Trevor walks in then, his expression dark. “What’s this about leaving tonight?”
I repeat the lie. He doesn’t buy it for a second. His eyes narrow.
“That makes no sense. They can’t just spring something like that on you.”
“They did,” I insist. “It’s prestigious. I have to go.”
“This is about Nathan, isn’t it?” he demands, his voice low. “You’re running away from him.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I say, my voice sharp. “This is about my future. Something you and Nathan wouldn’t understand. You’ve had your futures handed to you on a silver platter since birth.”
The words hit their mark. Trevor recoils as if I’d slapped him. Sarah looks between us, her expression wounded.
“Naomi, that’s not fair,” she says softly.
“Maybe not,” I say, my heart aching with a guilt that is almost as sharp as the betrayal. “But it’s the truth. I need to pack.”
In my room, I move with brutal efficiency. I pack clothes, textbooks, the laptop that is my ticket out. I leave behind the framed photo on my nightstand of me, Trevor, and Nathan at the beach when we were twelve. I leave the dried corsage from junior prom he gave me. I leave behind every piece of the girl who believed in him.
Before I close my suitcase, I pull out a piece of plain stationery and a pen. My hand is steady as I write.
*Nathan,*
*Thank you for a memorable evening. I wish you all the best in your future endeavors.*
*Sincerely,* *Naomi*
I fold it once and slide it into an envelope. Downstairs, Trevor is waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs, blocking my path.
“What did you do to him?” he asks, his voice raw. “He came by looking for you. He looked… broken, Naomi. He said you wouldn’t even talk to him.”
“We have nothing to talk about.” I try to step around him, but he moves with me.
“I don’t believe you. Something happened in that room this morning.”
“I grew up, Trevor,” I say softly. “That’s what happened.” I hold out the envelope. “Can you give this to him? I didn’t get to say goodbye.”
He takes it warily, his eyes searching mine for an answer I won’t give. He opens the flap and reads the few short lines. His head snaps up, his face a mask of confusion.
“‘Sincerely, Naomi’? That’s it? It sounds like a damn business letter. What the hell is this?”
“It’s a goodbye note,” I say, my voice devoid of all emotion. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to be late for my flight.”
I push past him before he can say another word. The drive to the airport is a quiet, painful affair. Sarah cries silently in the passenger seat. Tom keeps clearing his throat, trying to find words that won’t come.
At the departures curb, they hug me so tightly I can barely breathe.
“Call us the minute you land in California, you hear?” Tom says, his voice thick.
“I will,” I lie. “I love you both so much. Thank you for everything.”
I pull away, grab my suitcase, and walk into the terminal without looking back. If I look back, I’ll break. And I can’t afford to break.
An hour later, I’m sitting at Gate B27. I pull out my phone and look at my boarding pass. The screen is bright in the dim terminal.
*FLIGHT 1138 TO BOSTON, MA.*
He called me nothing. A warm-up. An exercise.
I am not nothing.
I am a fortress. And I’m about to lay the first stone.
