The bus smells like heat and plastic and Axe body spray.
Everyone's talking - loud, careless chatter that bounces off the windows - but none of it includes me.
I take a step on and already feel it - the shift in atmosphere. Heads turn. Not to look at me, exactly. Just to acknowledge that I'm here. Existing. Showing up to the senior trip like I didn't get the silent memo: You don't belong.
Someone near the middle laughs louder when I walk by. I pretend not to notice.
---
It's a week after my birthday.
And people still haven't said a word about it. Or the party.
Even the ones who saw the flyer my mom plastered all over group chats. Even the ones who swore "We should totally hang out after finals!"
They didn't come.
But I came here.
Because I refuse to let them win.
Because I still believe in museums and field trips and the weirdly thrilling silence of a bus ride that takes you somewhere new.
Even if I have to do it alone.
---
I pause halfway down the aisle, scanning for an empty seat.
They're all full.
Or worse - they're half full.
With bags dropped like barricades. Legs spread wide. Eyes flicking up with fake surprise, like Oh, sorry, didn't see you there.
I know this routine.
I've memorized it.
The quiet rejection. The soft humiliation of being reminded that no one wants to sit next to the only Black girl in an all-white, old-money school unless they need her to finish their project.
My throat feels tight. My fingers start picking at the sleeve of my hoodie.
I take a breath.
I almost turn around.
---
Then I hear him.
"Senna."
I glance up.
Luca is near the back.
Alone.
His bag is on the floor. His hand is on the empty seat beside him.
He's already looking at me like of course I'll sit there. Like there's no question.
Like it's not a thing.
But it is.
Because the moment I take a step toward him, the talking dips.
Like someone turned the volume knob down on the whole bus.
Whispers start - sharp and jagged.
"Is she seriously-"
"Since when are they friends?"
"I didn't know stair girls were allowed in his world."
I hear every word.
I feel it settle on my skin like ash.
But Luca just keeps looking at me.
Not smiling. Not pressuring.
Just... waiting.
Like he always does.
---
I sit down.
I don't say anything at first. Just fold my hands in my lap and look straight ahead.
He doesn't fill the silence. Doesn't ask if I'm okay. Doesn't look at me like I need fixing.
Instead, he reaches into his backpack, pulls out a bag of sour gummies, and offers me one.
My favorite kind.
I blink at him.
Then take two.
And just like that - I stay.
---
By the time the bus pulls out of the school lot, the talking has resumed.
But I don't listen to it anymore.
Because I'm sitting next to Luca.
And he made space for me.
Not in secret. Not under the stairs.
But here.
In front of everyone.
And maybe that's louder than all their silence combined.