Sunday afternoons always had a weird taste to them. Adam could never decide if it was the leftover quiet of the morning service, or the creeping reminder that Monday loomed right around the corner. Either way, the walk back from church left him with too much space in his head and far too many thoughts he would rather not have swirling around.
The autumn air did not help either. It carried that crisp, faintly smoky scent of fallen leaves being stepped on, and every crunch under his shoes seemed to underline the same annoying thought he had been circling for two days.
He needed to fix things with Abigail.
The problem was, he had absolutely no idea how.
By the time the brick buildings of the school campus rose into view, sunlit and almost indifferent, he had run through half a dozen possible approaches, rejected all of them, and was now walking through the front gates with the same frustrated knot sitting in his chest. The courtyard was busy in that slow, Sunday way, where most students walked in clusters or pairs, chatting quietly or finishing lunch, and the buzz of soft conversations drifted around him like a low, steady hum.
Adam rubbed the back of his neck without thinking, fingers brushing the chain of the necklace beneath his collar, the small cold weight of it pressing lightly against skin. The spot tingled the way it sometimes did when he thought too hard about things he would rather ignore. He lowered his hand quickly and forced a breath out through his nose.
Think. There had to be some way to break through the silence Abigail had wrapped herself in. Every time he had tried approaching her since Friday, she had brushed him off like he was a draft of cold air coming through a cracked window. Not rude, not angry, just... distant. Closed.
The hallway swallowed him the moment he stepped inside, buzzing with scattered voices, squeaking shoes, and the faint chemical smell of freshly scrubbed floors. A group of girls laughed near the lockers. Someone opened a soda can somewhere behind him, the hiss echoing oddly between walls. Adam moved through the flow of students with a slow, purposeful walk, scanning faces, listening half-heartedly to bits of conversation drifting past his ears, and still circling the same frustrating question.
How do I talk to her?
Then an idea slid into place so suddenly that he stopped walking entirely.
Her sisters.
If Abigail would not talk to him, maybe one of them would. Maybe they could nudge her, explain something he could not, or at least give him a clue about what had triggered this sudden cold shoulder... Well beside from the obvious.
Anissa. Or Amber.
Between the two, Anissa felt like the better place to start. She was sharp, observant, always holding herself like she was two steps ahead of everyone else. If anyone understood Abigail beyond surface level, it would be her.
Adam pivoted, heading down the side corridor that led to her usual classroom. The windows along the hall let sunlight spill in long stripes across the floor, and each step sent those stripes breaking over the dark rubber of his shoes. His heartbeat thudded with a strange, tight anticipation, part nerves, part hope.
When he reached the doorway of her class, he peeked inside. Empty. Not even the rustle of papers or the faint smell of perfume lingering in the air. Just silent rows of desks under bright fluorescent lights.
He sighed and pulled out his phone.
'Hey, can you meet me in 2C? It's important.'
He stared at the screen, thumb hovering over the send button for a moment longer than necessary, then tapped it. The message whooshed off. He waited. Nothing. The hallway hummed around him, a few students walking past with backpacks thumping against their sides, sneakers squeaking, lockers clanging shut.
A minute passed. Then another. His fingers drifted again to the side of his neck, brushing the edge of the necklace through the fabric. A quick, instinctive scratch. A small tremor of tension in his shoulders.
The phone buzzed.
'Fine. I'm on my way.'
Adam exhaled slowly. Good. Progress. Maybe.
He stepped into Classroom 2C and sat on the second desk from the front. The room carried the faint, chalky scent of dry-erase markers and old textbooks. Sunlight pushed dust motes into slow drifting spirals through the warm air. His foot tapped against the tile floor without his permission.
A few minutes later, footsteps approached the doorway. Steady. Controlled. With that unmistakable crisp rhythm that somehow always made the air feel tighter when she walked in.
Anissa appeared.
She stood framed in the doorway, her posture impossibly straight, her uniform immaculate, hair pinned back in that way she always preferred, revealing the sharpened clarity of her expression. Her dark eyes flicked around the empty room before settling on him with cool precision.
"This better be important," she said, voice quiet but carrying an edge that made it feel sharper than if she had shouted. "It is important... Right?"
Adam sat up straighter. "Yeah. It is."
She walked in slowly, not hesitant, just measured, like she was assessing the room for threats or nonsense. Her gaze landed on him again, and he tried offering a small, casual smile to soften the air. "So. Uh, nice Sunday so far?"
Her eyebrow lifted just a fraction. "If we are doing small talk, I'm leaving."
"Right. Yeah. No small talk." He scratched his cheek, wincing internally. Smooth. Very smooth.
Anissa folded her arms across her chest, weight shifting lightly to one leg. "State what you want."
No warmth. No pretended politeness. Just that blunt efficiency she wielded like a scalpel.
Adam swallowed. "I need help. With Abigail."
For a split second, he thought he imagined the way her expression tightened. It was tiny, almost invisible, but the air felt like it dropped a few degrees. Her eyes thinned. Her jaw set.
"What about her," she asked, and her voice was flatter than before, almost metallic.
"She's not talking to me," he said, leaning forward slightly, trying to make his tone earnest. "And I messed things up. I know I did. I just... I don't know how to get through to her, and I thought maybe you or Amber might have advice. Or maybe you could help me talk to her."
The reaction was immediate.
Anissa snapped back like he had said something offensive. "That's not my problem, Adam."
He blinked. "I'm not asking you to fix anything for me. I just thought you might know what is going on or how I could apologize properly."
"You should learn to clean up your own mess," she said, her tone suddenly sharp. "Don't drag other people into them."
Adam stared, taken aback. His mind leapt to the worst, did Abigail tell her about last weekend? About the tryst? The timing made his stomach twist. His voice stumbled. "Wait, did she say something to you or–?"
"No," Anissa cut him off instantly, tension flickering like static in her eyes. "And even if she did, it wouldn't matter. The point stands. This is your issue. Handle it yourself."
Then she turned away, her steps clipped, her posture iron straight. The sound of her shoes hitting the tile floor echoed sharply as she walked out.
"Anissa, hold on, I didn't mean–" he called, but she did not even pause. Her silhouette slipped down the hall, movements tight, almost stiff with irritation.
Adam remained frozen in place, baffled.
That went... badly. Very badly.
He replayed the moment. The shift in her face. The sharp dismissal. The hostility. It made no sense. It felt personal, but how could it be? He scrubbed a hand through his hair, the faint chalk scent of the classroom filling his lungs as he breathed deeply. Something here was missing. Something obvious that he clearly was too stupid or oblivious to catch.
After a lingering moment of confusion, he slowly stood and wandered back into the hallway. The air outside felt heavier now, like the building itself had absorbed some of Anissa's irritation and reflected it back at him. Students drifted past, chatting in small pockets of quiet laughter and lazy footsteps.
Adam walked aimlessly down the hall, thoughts knotting themselves again. Maybe he should try Amber next. She was easier to talk to, more expressive, less guarded. But would she react the same way? Was this some sister thing he did not understand?
He was mid-thought when a flash of motion caught his eye.
Amber came into view from the far end of the hallway, arms overflowing with multicolored soccer balls. They were stacked chaotically against her chest, wobbling every time she took a step. Her short hair bounced slightly with each movement, and she puffed her cheeks as she adjusted her grip.
When she spotted him, her whole face brightened instantly.
"Adam," she said, voice cheerful and airy, "hey. Perfect timing. Coach told me to grab these for practice and they are already trying to escape. Look."
One of the balls wiggled out of the pile and nearly dropped, and Amber performed a dramatic knee-lift to trap it, wobbling slightly as she caught her balance. She grinned up at him like it was the funniest thing in the world.
He could not help smiling. "Here. Let me help."
She froze for half a second, like she was rebooting, then her smile widened into something soft and pleased. "Really? Yes please. I swear these things are plotting a rebellion."
Adam took half the pile, the leather cool and slightly rubbery against his palms. The faint scent of turf and plastic drifted from them, mixing with Amber's citrusy shampoo as she came closer.
Together they started down the hallway, balls tucked awkwardly in their arms. Amber talked in cheerful bursts, words bouncing as energetically as she did. She told him about how the team had been joking about starting a competitive juggling league, and how Coach had given them a thirty minute lecture about discipline that somehow turned into a rant about proper shoelace tying. Adam laughed, shaking his head, and Amber's eyes sparkled like she had been waiting for that exactly.
At one point she nudged him lightly with her elbow after making a joke about the soccer balls having better attendance than half the team. The touch was brief but warm, and he noticed the faintest pink tint rising in her cheeks when he chuckled in response.
For a moment he forgot about Abigail entirely.
But the reminder struck him again as they neared the exit doors leading to the soccer field. His stomach tightened. This was his chance. He needed help, and Amber was right here, smiling at him like talking to him actually made her happy.
He cleared his throat. "So, um, Amber, I actually wanted to ask you something."
"Sure," she said, tilting her head slightly. "Shoot."
"It's about Abigail. I need help smoothing things over with her."
Everything changed.
Her smile flickered. Then erased completely.
They stepped out into the open field at the exact moment her expression shifted from bright to cold. The sun lit the grass in vivid green, the faint smell of cut turf floating in the breeze. Shouts from players warming up drifted across the space. But Amber's focus was nowhere near any of that.
"You need help with Abigail," she repeated, her voice suddenly low.
"Yeah. She's upset with me and I thought maybe you could–"
"Of course you did," she said. Not loud. Not angry. Just tired, frustrated, and edged with something unmistakably jealous.
Adam blinked. "Amber–"
"She's always the focus for you," she said, staring straight ahead at the field instead of at him. "Even now. Even when we're talking and everything is fine, it still circles back to her. It always circles back to her."
A pang moved through her voice, subtle but real. Her grip on the soccer balls tightened.
Adam opened his mouth but no words came. He had no idea she felt this way. No idea at all.
The silence stretched.
Amber exhaled, long and shaky. "Look, never mind. I'm sorry, that just slipped out. This is dumb."
"That's not what I meant, I was just–"
"I know," she said quickly, forcing a tight smile that did not meet her eyes, as she took the ball from Adam. "I just need to cool off before practice."
With that, she stepped away, clutching the balls to her chest again as she moved toward the field. She did not say goodbye. Did not look back. The distance between them grew with each brisk step she took, until she disappeared into the cluster of players by the goalpost.
Adam stood frozen in place.
The wind ruffled his hair. Distant whistles blew. The grass rustled with footsteps of the team getting ready. But none of it mattered. His chest felt hollow.
Anissa had snapped the same way. Amber had reacted almost identically. Something was going on. Something he was clearly too dense to see.
But whatever it was, he could not afford to chase it right now.
He inhaled slowly, letting the scent of damp grass and cool October wind fill his lungs, the weight of everything pressing down on him until the thought solidified.
Fix things with Abigail first.
Everything else could wait. Everything else had to wait.
He had already done enough damage. It was time to start making things right.
And this time he would not fail.
He squared his shoulders, tightened his jaw, and stepped forward with a new determination anchoring itself inside him.
Whatever it took, he would mend this.