I looked past them to their table. They all had the same smiles and the same sharp eyes, just with better makeup.
“I can sit for a few minutes.”
“Then come sit with us.”
Ashley pulled out a chair for me. “So, what do you do?”
“I manage a marketing team.”
“Of course you do,” Brielle said. “You look like you send emails people are scared to ignore.”
“Only when they deserve it.”
Ashley laughed. “I like her.”
That stung.
“I manage a marketing team.”
In school, Ashley had once asked if my face hurt from looking like “that.” Now she liked me because she didn’t know I was the same person.
Then Madison arrived, loud enough for three tables to turn.
“Please tell me you saved me a seat,” she said, dropping her clutch beside Ashley’s glass.
Ashley grinned. “Madison, meet our new friend.”
Madison looked me over. “Well, thank God. This table needed help.”
“Madison, meet our new friend.”
I smiled. “Rough night?”
“Reunions are always rough,” Madison said. “Too many people pretending they peaked after graduation.”
“Happy to serve,” I said. “Most people did peak in high school, they’d just never admit it.”
For a few minutes, she sounded normal. She talked about traffic, work, and how weird it was seeing everyone older.
Then the organizer tapped the microphone.
“Everyone, don’t forget our ‘Where Are They Now?’ slideshow starts soon!”
“Rough night?”
Madison clapped. “Oh, this is going to be amazing.”
Ashley’s smile faded. “What did you send in?”
“The funniest clip.”
Brielle covered her mouth. “Please tell me it’s not sophomore year.”
Madison grinned. “The hallway video.”
My hand tightened around my glass.
“What did you send in?”
“The one with Evangeline?” Brielle asked.
“Yes!” Madison said. “I forgot how funny that was.”
Ashley shifted in her chair. “Madison…”
“What?” Madison said. “Come on. She was basically our class mascot for awkward.”
I set my glass down before I dropped it.
“What was she like?” I asked.
“I forgot how funny that was.”
Madison smiled like I’d handed her a gift.
“Oh, it was tragic. Braces, frizz, always red in the face. You barely had to say anything, and she’d panic.”
Ashley looked down. “We were awful.”
Madison rolled her eyes. “It was high school. Everybody got teased.”
“Not everybody went home crying,” I said.
The table went quiet.
Madison narrowed her eyes. “Did you know her?”
“We were awful.”
I smiled, but my chest ached.
“Better than you did. Excuse me. I need the bathroom before the show.”
They nodded and continued speaking to each other.
I made it to the restroom before my hands started shaking.
I called Mom from the sink.
“They don’t know it’s me,” I whispered.
“I need the bathroom before the show.”
Mom went quiet. “Well, that tells me they never really saw you.”
“Madison sent in a video. They were laughing about it.”
“Oh, Eva.”
“I want to leave.”
“Then leave.”
I swallowed. “Really?”
“You don’t owe them anything.”
“I want to leave.”
I looked at myself in the mirror. I was wearing the red dress, my eyes were wet, and my mouth was shaking.
Then Mom said, “But you don’t have to run either.”
I pulled the cardigan from my bag.
Mom saw it and said, “Put it on if you want to. Just make sure it’s a choice, not armor.”
I held it for a second.
Then I folded it and left it on the counter.
I looked at myself in the mirror.
“I’m going back in.”
“Why?”
“Because Madison said my name like I wasn’t in the room.”
Mom’s voice warmed. “Then go take your place in the room.”
The lights dimmed as I returned.
The slideshow began with weddings, babies, dogs, promotions, and smiling vacation photos. People clapped and laughed.
“Then go take your place in the room.”
Then my slide appeared.
EVA.
A photo of me in Chicago filled the screen. I was standing with my team after a campaign launch, smiling with my arm around a younger coworker.
Under it were the words: Marketing Director. Community Mentor. Chicago.
People clapped.
Brielle leaned forward. “Who’s that?”
Then my slide appeared.
Ashley stared. “The woman that was sitting with us, no?”
Madison barely looked up from her phone.
Then the music cut off.
A grainy hallway video appeared.
Blue lockers. Dirty floor. Fluorescent lights.
Then sixteen-year-old me appeared on the screen, clutching my books.
Madison barely looked up from her phone.
Teenage Madison’s voice rang through the speakers.
“Careful, everyone. The before picture is trying to walk.”
Someone laughed in the video.
My books hit the floor.
The girl on the screen dropped to her knees so fast that it looked like she was apologizing for existing.
The ballroom went silent.
Madison laughed once.
No one joined her.
Someone laughed in the video.
The organizer rushed toward the laptop. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize…”