The Fear of Falling

The school gate felt cold against Elena’s palms, its iron scrollwork digging into her skin as she stood there, watching. The afternoon light had softened to a pale gold, casting long shadows across the courtyard where students streamed out in pairs and small clusters. Their laughter carried in the crisp air, light and carefree, and Elena felt herself an island, separate and still.

She had been standing here for what felt like an eternity, though the clock above the main building had only moved ten minutes since she’d first pressed her fingers to the metal. Ten minutes of watching girls her age walk arm in arm, their voices bright with talk of evening plans, of beaus and dresses and the simple future that awaited them. Ten minutes of wondering if she had made a terrible mistake.

The notebook Jonas had given her three days ago sat heavy in her coat pocket. She could feel its weight against her ribs like a second heart beating out a rhythm of doubt. It was beautiful, that notebook. Leather-bound, with pages that felt like silk beneath her fingers, and a small pressed flower tucked between the first and second leaves—a forget-me-not, he had said, his voice soft, his eyes holding something she had never seen before. Something that made her breath catch even now.