Jessa

By Wednesday, something felt off.

It started the moment I got to school. Mariah wasn’t her usual whirlwind self. She walked up to me at my locker wearing an oversized hoodie that I swore looked suspiciously like one Jackson owned. It made my brain trip over itself for a second.

“You good?” I asked, eyeing her.

“Totally,” she said a little too fast, then flashed that smile that said don’t ask questions.

I didn’t press, but the feeling sat weird in my chest. ...