Chapter 17 - Mia Comes Back
Mia returned to Boston during spring break.
She texted Anna first.
Coffee? If that isn’t weird.
Anna stared at the message.
Then replied:
It’s definitely weird. Okay.
They met at a bakery near Westbridge.
Mia looked different.
Shorter hair.
No designer bag.
Still nervous.
“How’s Chicago?”
“Cold.”
“Boston is cold.”
“Chicago is aggressive about it.”
Anna smiled.
They ordered hot chocolate.
Mia asked about Kayla.
“She’s back.”
“I know.”
“You two talk?”
“Barely.”
“Good barely?”
“Mostly.”
Mia nodded.
“I saw the copycat account.”
“Everyone did.”
“I wanted to call you.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I didn’t know if I was still allowed.”
Anna frowned.
“Allowed?”
“In your life.”
The sentence made her uncomfortable.
“You’re dramatic.”
“I learned from Kayla.”
Anna’s expression changed.
Mia immediately said:
“Sorry.”
“No. It’s okay.”
They sat quietly.
Mia had started therapy in Chicago.
Not court-ordered.
Not school-required.
Her choice.
“I realized something,” she said.
“What?”
“I used to think being less cruel than Kayla meant I was good.”
Anna listened.
“Like, I wouldn’t have thrown the books.”
“Congratulations.”
“I know.”
Mia smiled sadly.
“But I took the car photo.”
“Yes.”
“I helped post rumors.”
“Yes.”
“And every time I felt guilty, I told myself Kayla was worse.”
Anna understood.
Moral comparison as escape.
As long as someone else was worse, you never had to ask whether you were good enough.
“What do you want me to say?” Anna asked.
“Nothing.”
“Then why tell me?”
“Because I used to apologize so you’d tell me I wasn’t terrible.”
Mia looked directly at her.
“That’s still asking you to take care of my feelings.”
Anna had never thought about apologies that way.
Mia continued.
“I’m trying to stop.”
Anna sipped her drink.
“Good.”
Mia laughed.
“That’s all?”
“What do you want, a certificate?”
“No.”
They both laughed.
Before leaving, Mia pulled something from her bag.
A photograph.
Not digital.
Printed.
It showed Anna at the Wellington debate tournament receiving her award.
Anna frowned.
“How do you have this?”
“School newsletter.”
“Why print it?”
Mia looked embarrassed.
“Because I wanted to remember you as something other than someone I hurt.”
Anna stared.
“That is unbelievably weird.”
“I know.”
She almost took it.
Then stopped.
“Keep it.”
Mia looked surprised.
“Why?”
“It’s your weird thing.”
Mia smiled.
“Fair.”
They hugged awkwardly outside.
Not best friends.
Not strangers.
Something without an easy label.
When Anna returned home, Elena asked:
“How was she?”
“Different.”
“Everyone in this story is becoming different.”
“Annoying, right?”
“Very inconvenient.”
Anna sat.
“Elena Torres, philosopher.”
“Respect your mother.”
Westbridge’s spring term ended with student-council elections.
Ben pushed Anna to run.
“No.”
“You’d win.”
“That’s exactly why I’m not doing it.”
“Why?”
“I don’t want to become school-famous for the fountain.”
“Then run on something else.”
Anna considered.
She cared about student representation.
Privacy.
Scholarship culture.
But running also meant posters.
Speeches.
People looking at her.
For months she had fought not to be defined by attention.
Now she had to decide whether avoiding visibility gave the past another form of control.
She ran.
Her campaign had no photograph of the fountain.
No mention of Kayla.
No “survivor” language.
Her platform focused on transparent fees, academic support, student complaint channels, and reducing hidden costs for activities.
The hidden costs mattered.
Scholarship covered tuition.
Not always uniforms.
Field trips.
Dance tickets.
Club dues.
Students quietly opted out.
Anna knew.
Her campaign slogan:
BELONGING SHOULDN’T HAVE SURPRISE FEES.
She won vice president.
Not president.
Ben was outraged.
“Rigged.”
“The other candidate was better.”
“You’re supposed to be bitter.”
“I’m busy.”
Kayla did not vote for Anna.
She told her later during a student assembly setup.
“I voted for Priya.”
Anna laughed.
“Why would you tell me?”
“Because I didn’t want you thinking I voted for you out of guilt.”
“That’s almost insulting.”
“Priya had a better parking proposal.”
“Fair.”
It was the most normal conversation they had ever had.
No apology.
No past.
No tension.
Just parking.
Anna walked away smiling.
Maybe healing was not becoming close to the person who hurt you.
May you like
Maybe it was reaching a point where every interaction no longer required the old wound to enter the room.
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