The Ninety-Ninth Goodbye

ana

Jax Little broke my he

hool' s mythology, spoken in the same breath since we were kids building forts in his backyard. We were childhood sweethearts, the quarterback and the dancer, a walking, talking

as if the world was his to conquer and he was just waiting for the right moment. He was the king of our small universe, and I, willingly, was his queen. His family, newly wealthy from his father's ventures in the oil and gas sector b

above his eyebrow was from a fall off his bike when he was seven, and he knew the melody I hummed when I was nervous was from a lullaby my grand

or year, the perf

ike eyes and a story for every occasion. She was beautiful in a fr

er in this school," he'd said, his voice earnest. "Catalina is new here, having

mping onto my bed and burying his face in my pillow

g my fingers through his hair. "

so n

t" on her way to the library. Then he'd be late for our lunch dates beca

ation of his "duty." He' d wrap his arms around me, kiss my

volved into dismissive shrugs. His phone would buzz with her name, and he' d

embled and my hands were slick with sweat. "I can't

en since we were fifteen and he thought he'd lost me in a crowded mall. He swore it would stop, that I was the only one. He didn't just w

atalina to a "family emergency" that turned out to be a forgotten p

f our shared past. He reminded me of our UCLA dream, of the apartment we were going t

ca

once born of genuine pain, became empty pleas. And Jax, he learned. He learned that my threats w

ain became an inconvenience, my tears a childish tantrum. "Ellie, relax," he'd say, his

. I hadn't.

gering, bitter taste in my mouth. But this, the ninety-ninth, w

shimmering blue pool that reflected the string lights overhead. Catalina, in a ridiculousl

re was no apology in his eyes, no guilt. Just a cool, challenging

n with her as she fell. The cold water was a shock, my dress instantly heavy, pulling me down. I sputtered, trying to

lling her to the edge of the pool, ignoring my own struggle just a few feet away. His expression, when he loo

back at me, my hair plastered to my face, my body shive

as drowning in. It was a calculated cruelty, a final, definitive push to break me

thes. I stood there, dripping and humiliated, as he wrapp

the pitying and mocking stares of

he empty street as I walked ho

t was just another turn in our tired old dance. He pro

back once, and I saw him laughing, h

en clutching for years, finally shattered into dust. I

ety-nin

not be a o

walked straight to my laptop, my fingers moving with a clarity that felt foreign. I opened the

my application status, my acceptance letter glowin

sign from the universe. They had wanted me to go to UCLA, to stay close, but they had always said the choice

ed the

ppeared. "Welcome to

den film of tears. But these weren't tears of heartbreak

ge. I untagged myself from years of photos on social media. I took down the framed pictures

m our freshman year, the dried corsage from our first prom, the little silver locket with our init

should have. It held the we

me at a carnival when we were ten. I held it for a momen

eyes by the pool. Your li

r into the box an