Betty´s POV
The music thumped around me, the bass vibrating through the floor, but it barely registered.
Jade was sprawled in a chair nearby, boots propped on the coffee table as she scrolled through her phone, her brow furrowed. Carlos lay on the floor, tossing popcorn into the air and catching it in his mouth. Mira halfheartedly swatted at him each time he missed muttering something about ants. Sasha sit on the couch, her hands moving wildly as she recounted her latest misadventure and her laughter infectious enough to have everyone else cracking up.
Everyone but me.
I watched them all.They didn’t care about my past, didn’t comment on my size, didn’t push me to be anything but myself.
But even surrounded by them, I felt alone. Like no matter how hard I tried, I was always on the outside looking in.
"Betty," Sasha’s voice cut through my thoughts.
I blinked, looking up to find her grinning at me, though her smile faltered slightly when I didn’t immediately respond.
"You with us?" she asked.
"Yeah.Just tired."
"You’re always tired," Carlos teased.
"Maybe you’re exhausting to be around."
I fiddled with the edge of my sleeve, my gaze drifting to the snack table across the room.
"I’m grabbing a drink."
At the table, the sight of cookies, chips and candy stirred something restless inside me. I grabbed a handful of cookies, nibbling on one absentmindedly. Then another. And another.
The sugar hit my tongue, momentarily dulling the ache in my chest.
The familiar wave of guilt crashed over me, sharp and suffocating.
I slipped into the small bathroom and locking the door behind me. The fluorescent light flickered buzzing faintly as I leaned over the sink, gripping its edges tightly.
"You shouldn’t have done that," I muttered, staring at my flushed reflection. "You’re better than this."
But the guilt sat heavy in my chest, spreading like poison.
I sank to my knees by the toilet, tears stinging my eyes.
The door rattled suddenly, a knock following it.
"Betty?"
My heart leapt into my throat. I scrambled to my feet flushing the toilet to mask my panic. "Just a minute!"
The door opened before I could stop it.
Mira stood there, her sharp green eyes narrowing as they flicked over me—my trembling hands, flushed cheeks, glassy eyes. She stepped inside and closed the door behind her without a word.
"Betty," she said softly.
"Nothing.I wasn’t feeling well. That’s all."
"Don’t lie to me."
I tried to push past her, but her hand shot out grabbing my arm.
"Hey," she said. "I’m worried about you. We all are. You’ve been off lately—distracted, skipping out early. And now this?"
"I’m fine," I snapped, pulling my arm free.
Mira frowned, crossing her arms. "Look, if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine. But we’re your friends, Betty. You don’t have to go through whatever this is alone."
Her words hung in the air and for a second, I thought about telling her.
But the thought of saying it out loud was too much.
"I’m just not feeling well," I said, my voice quieter now. "I should go home."
Mira didn’t look convinced, but she stepped aside. "Promise me you’ll take care of yourself, okay?"
"Yeah," I said. It felt like a lie.
I left quickly, grabbing my bag and slipping out of the lounge without saying goodbye to anyone.
The night air hit me like a slap, but it didn’t do much to clear my head. I didn’t need Mira to tell me I wasn’t okay. I already knew.