Harper stood at the wrought-iron gates of Westerleigh Prep, the polished brass plaque catching the morning sun like it was proud of the legacy it guarded. The campus beyond stretched wide and pristine — sandstone buildings, climbing ivy, and students scattered in tight-knit groups across the manicured lawns. It looked like a movie set: glossy, curated, untouchable.
She didn't belong here.
Her fingers tugged at the sleeves of her hoodie, pulling them down past her wrists. A nervous habit. The school uniform kids wore — straightened blazers, pleated skirts, polished shoes — only reminded her of how she was supposed to dress at home.
A student walked past and double-took, recognition flickering in their gaze. Harper looked away before it turned to whispers.
She turned the corner by the courtyard, heart tightening, and then—there she was.
Camille Washington.
Brunette curls bouncing, wearing her cheer jacket unzipped over her uniform, white sneakers immaculate as always. She leaned against the brick wall like it was choreographed, typing something into her phone, completely unaware of the storm walking toward her.
Harper stopped for a second. She hadn't seen Camille in over a year — not since the night she knocked on her door and sat in her bedroom to say goodbye, to tell her she was turning herself in. That she couldn't let Camille take the fall. That she loved her too much for that. Even if she never said it out loud.
And now, here she was again. Standing in front of her like no time had passed — and yet all the time in the world had.
Camille looked up.
Their eyes locked.
For a moment, neither of them moved. The air shifted, holding the weight of memories, of friendship, of the quiet pain that had rooted itself between them since that night.
Then Camille's face broke open in a bright, disbelieving smile.
"Holy shit!" she said, pushing off the wall. "You actually came."
Harper's chest twisted. "Yeah.." she said, quiet. "I said I would."
Camille didn't hesitate. She crossed the space and threw her arms around Harper, holding her like she meant it, like nothing — no time, no mistakes, no police reports — had changed what they were. Harper froze for a beat, then sank into it, her forehead brushing Camille's shoulder.
It was the first real hug she'd had in months.
"I was so angry." Camille admitted softly. "Not at you — just... at everything. I wanted to hate you for taking the fall, but I knew you had to. I just—" She reached out, tucking a strand of Harper's hair behind her ear with gentle familiarity.
"I missed you like hell."
Harper blinked fast, her voice rough. "I missed you too."
They stood like that for a moment, the buzz of the school behind them fading. Students passed, casting glances, but Camille didn't care — her arm slid around Harper's shoulder like it belonged there, and suddenly Harper didn't feel like an outsider anymore.
Camille stepped back, grabbing Harper's hand without asking and pulling her gently toward the side courtyard.
"Come on. We can't stand here like a scene from a teen drama. Everyone's already staring. Let's walk."
They cut across the polished cobblestone path and ducked into a quieter part of campus, the hum of chatter and footsteps fading behind them. Trees lined the perimeter, branches casting dappled shadows across the perfect green lawn.
Eventually, Camille peeked over at her, her voice softer now, more careful.
"So... how are you doing? I mean, really?"
Harper shoved her hands into the pockets of her hoodie, staring down at the cracks in the stone path. Her voice was low but honest.
"I'm... getting better."
Camille slowed, her brow furrowed. "Yeah?"
Harper nodded. "The place they moved me to after juvie... Still locked down, but... calmer. I guess I needed it." She gave a small, bitter laugh. "God, that sounds so fucking corny doesn't it?"
Camille stopped walking and looked at her, really looked. "No, it doesn't. It sounds real."
They stood there for a beat, the sun filtering through the leaves, and Harper realized just how much she'd missed this—someone looking at her without fear, without judgment. Just... love.
Camille's lips curved into a lopsided grin. "You seem... steadier."
"I don't feel it most days." Harper admitted. "But I'm trying."
Camille nudged her gently with her elbow. "Trying's enough. I'm really proud of you."
Harper looked away, blinking quickly. "Don't get all mushy on me."
They walked a little more, past the glass greenhouse and the old bell tower, familiar to Camille but foreign to Harper. Camille was talking about school gossip now—light stuff, harmless fluff that Harper let wash over her like warm sun. For the first time in a long time, she felt close to normal.
Camille suddenly stopped, glancing over with a tilt of her head.
"Hey. Do you hate me for what I did? Lying to the police?"
Harper shook her head instantly. "No. I hated myself for letting you do it."
"But you turned yourself in."
"I had to. I couldn't let them ruin your life too."
Camille's voice softened. "I would've done it again."
"I know.." Harper said quietly. "That's why I couldn't let you."
They wandered past the edge of the Westerleigh Prep quad, where perfectly trimmed hedges lined the marble benches and the scent of fresh-cut grass clung to the air. Cheerleaders' laughter echoed faintly from the field, layered over the distant thud of a kick drum from the band building. Harper kept her hands tucked into her sleeves, not quite cold, but in that restless way she always did when her thoughts turned tight.
Camille walked beside her, still effortlessly vibrant in her school jacket and glossy ponytail. Her steps were light, but her eyes flicked toward Harper often, studying her in that quiet, unspoken way only old friends knew how to do.
"So.." Harper finally muttered, her voice low and a little rough. "Enough about me."
Camille looked over.
"How are you doing?"
Camille's face lit up instinctively, like she couldn't help it.
"Still keeping the Westerleigh throne warm, obviously. Between choreography changes, college interviews, and pretending I understand calculus? I'm practically thriving."
Harper gave a dry smirk. "So, the usual."
"Exactly!" Camille grinned. "Only now with more glitter and existential dread."
Harper huffed a soft laugh, gaze dropping to the cracks in the pavement as they walked. Then, after a beat, she asked without looking up.
"Is Josie still around?"
Camille hesitated.
Just enough to be noticeable.
The air between them shifted slightly—like a quiet crack forming in the sidewalk beneath their feet.
"Yeah.." Camille said eventually. "She's around."
Harper's brows knit, her voice cautious. "You sounded weird just now. Why did you pull that face?"
Camille bit her lower lip. "Well... she has a new girlfriend now. She's on my squad."
Harper stopped walking.
Just for a second.
Her head tilted, her face neutral—but too neutral.
"Oh?" She said, as if it didn't matter.
Camille glanced at her. "You didn't know?"
Harper shook her head, a little too quickly. "No. I don't exactly... keep up with Josie's dating life."
Camille nodded slowly, the silence swelling between them again.
"Are you two... okay?" Camille asked gently. "Like... on good terms?"
Harper scoffed, the sound sharp and tired. "We're not on ANY terms."
She didn't look at Camille. Her eyes stayed forward, fixed somewhere in the distance—past the manicured school lawns, past the white-trimmed prep buildings, past the noise of anything that could possibly matter.
Camille studied her for a moment, her expression softer now. "She was a mess after everything, Harp.."
Harper's jaw tensed. "So was I." she muttered. "Difference is, I didn't take it out on everyone else."
Camille stayed quiet.
Harper exhaled through her nose, the breath catching in her chest for a second.
"It doesn't matter anyway. She made her choices. I made mine. Now we are both much happier away from each other."
A pause.
Then Camille gently looped her arm through Harper's—like muscle memory, like something she'd done a thousand times before when they were kids ducking out of boring holiday dinners.
"I'm just really glad you're here." Camille said. "That you're doing okay.."
Harper didn't speak right away.
She let her arm stay linked with Camille's, even leaned into her for half a second.
"Trying's the word." she said finally.
Camille gave her a little nudge. "You've got the whole mysterious-quiet-bad-girl energy now. It's very main character of you."
Harper rolled her eyes. "Main characters usually don't get locked up for a year and a half."
Camille smirked. "Maybe not in Disney movies, but in real life? You'd be the plot twist everyone remembers."
Harper gave a real laugh this time—soft, small, but real. It hung in the air between them for a moment before she brushed a loose strand of hair from her face.