Betty’s POV
It’s official: I am terrible at goodbyes.
I stood in front of Stacey this morning, trying to find something meaningful to say, but everything felt either too cheesy or not enough. She was packing up her things for the camp, tossing clothes into her bag with the kind of precision she normally saves for cheerleading routines. Meanwhile, I just stood there, holding my breath, trying to figure out if we’d always been this close or if it was just the past few months that had made us feel like sisters.
She paused mid-toss, looking over at me with this weird mix of pride and frustration on her face.
“You’re really not coming,” she said, more as a statement than a question.
I shrugged, leaning against the doorframe. “Nope. I need the break.”
Stacey stared at me like she was trying to decode what I wasn’t saying. “Betty, you’re not failing anything. You’re practically the poster child for academic success. Why do you need to figure anything out?”
How do I explain to someone like Stacey—someone who always looks like she has it all together—that I’m so tired of being tossed around by other people’s decisions? First my dad, then Marcus, then Brent, and even her. My grades are perfect, but my head feels like a mess.
Instead, I shrugged again. “Because I want to. Is that okay?”
Stacey sighed, throwing the last of her clothes into her suitcase and zipping it shut with a little more force than necessary. “You do you, Betty. But just so you know… I’m going to miss you.”
I blinked, caught off guard. Stacey wasn’t the mushy type—well, not unless there was a reason. And this? This felt real.
***
That was the easy goodbye.
The hard one came later.
Marcus showed up while I was trying to pack, leaning against the door like he owned the place. His hair was a little messier than usual, and his smirk was just as annoying.
“Heard you’re not coming to camp,” he said, not bothering with a hello.
I didn’t even look up. “And yet here you are, stating the obvious.”
“Just thought I’d check,” he said, stepping inside uninvited. “Too much happened for you to deal with, huh?”
That got my attention. I straightened up, glaring at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He held up his hands defensively, his smirk fading into something more serious. “It means I get it, Betty. Since the day you spilled that drink on my shirt and ruined my watch, things have been crazy for you.”
I stared at him for a second before bursting into laughter. “You’re still mad about that?”
“It was a nightmare,” he said, crossing his arms.
I rolled my eyes. “You deserved it.”
He grinned, taking a step closer. “Maybe. But it turned out well, didn’t it?”
I froze. He was too close now, his voice too soft, too… something. “Marcus, I really have to fix myself. Figure out what I want, you know?”
His expression shifted slightly, something unreadable in his eyes. “Promise me, when the new semester begins, you’ll still be my Betty?”
I opened my mouth to say something—anything—but before I could, he grabbed my arm and kissed me.
It wasn’t one of those slow, testing kisses. It was hard and full of all the things neither of us had said yet.
By the time he pulled away, I was too stunned to speak. He leaned close, his voice low and almost teasing. “I’ll see you at the end of summer.”
And just like that, he walked away, leaving me standing there like an idiot with my fingers brushing over my lips.
So yeah. Goodbyes? Not my strong suit.