I’ve always had a terrible sense of direction. It took Jackie six years to teach me how to navigate the world. Every summer, he’d drag me through the winding streets of Boston, making me memorize every brick and cobblestone of Beacon Hill and the North End. When I got lost, he’d laugh, affectionately rapping his knuckles against my forehead. “If you can’t even find your way home, what am I going to do with you later in life?” Eventually, I memorized every turn. My sense of direction became flawless. Then came junior year of high school. A transfer student, Candice, joined our class. She was a quiet scholarship kid who was constantly getting lost, which made her an easy target for the meaner kids at school. It was Jackie who stepped in, standing between her and the whispers. After that, he started driving her home every single day, going miles out of his way. That detour lasted all the way until graduation. And I was left walking alone. Today is our joint birthday—mine and Jackie’s. By tradition, our families always celebrate together. Standing outside the restaurant, the rain pouring down, he took a call. When he hung up, his face was tight with anxiety. “Candice got turned around in the city,” he said, not looking at me. “She’s lost. I have to go get her.” And for the hundredth time, he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving me standing alone in the rain. I took a slow breath, pulled out my phone, and logged into the college enrollment portal. I changed my decision. Jackie spent years teaching me how to find my way. But looking back over these last two years, of all the roads we traveled, not a single one led back to him. If that’s the case, I’m done walking. … He hung up, his face full of raw worry for Candice. I squeezed the gift box in my coat pocket, the cardboard bowing under my grip. The words I’d spent all week preparing withered in my throat. I only managed a quiet, “Go ahead.” When I walked into the restaurant, the rain was still drumming against the glass. Jackie’s mother, Mrs. Landry, waved me over with a warm smile. “There’s my girl! Come sit. Where’s Jackie?” “He had to go pick up a classmate,” I said softly. “Who?” “Candice. Candice Wells.” A shadow of disapproval crossed Mrs. Landry’s face. She patted the back of my hand consolingly. “That boy… he doesn’t know what’s important.” I forced a smile and let it drop. A while later, the door swung open. Jackie was soaked through, water dripping from his jacket. But Candice, standing beside him, was completely dry. A dull, cold knot tightened in my chest. Jackie always hated the feeling of wet clothes sticking to his skin. He was the type to complain for hours about a damp collar. But right now, there wasn’t a trace of annoyance on his face. He smiled, introducing her. “This is Candice. She’s a close friend of mine and Chelsea’s. I thought she should join us for our birthday dinner.” The private dining room went dead silent. Thankfully, the waiter came in to take our orders, breaking the tension. Midway through the meal, Jackie reached across the table and placed a prime piece of ribeye onto Candice’s plate. Mrs. Landry cleared her throat pointedly. “Jackie, since when do you stop serving Chelsea first?” He offered a quick, easy grin. “Mom, come on. Of course I’m going to take care of Chelsea. I’m just being a good host.” A tiny spark of hope flickered in my chest. But a moment later, he cracked open a lobster tail and dropped it onto my plate. I stared at it, then gently pushed the plate back. “What’s wrong?” he asked, genuinely confused. “I’m allergic to shellfish, Jackie,” I said, my voice flat. “I have been my whole life.” He froze, his expression blanking. “Right. God, I’m sorry. I forgot.” Sensing the sudden chill, Candice tried to smooth things over. “You guys are so lucky. Sharing a birthday, having your families celebrate together like this. It’s beautiful.” “We’ve done it since we were kids,” Jackie said, his voice warming up again. He ladled some butternut squash soup into a bowl for me. “Here, Chelsea. Don’t be mad. Try this.” After dinner, he drove us home. Candice sat in the passenger seat; I sat in the back. As we drove past the Prudential Center, Jackie let out a soft laugh. “Remember this place?” I looked out the window, answering automatically, “Not really.” But he didn’t even hear me. I looked at the front seats. Candice was playfully swatting his shoulder. “Why do you keep bringing that up? We said we wouldn’t talk about it!” My breath caught. He hadn’t been asking me. He was talking to her. It felt like a physical blow, a heavy weight pressing down on my chest. I sat there, wondering what I was doing in the backseat of this car. It was humiliating. “Seriously, Candice, you have the worst sense of direction. How do you get lost in a mall with only three exits?” “It’s not my fault! That place is a maze!” Jackie’s laugh was loud, easy. “Okay, okay, I won’t tease. But really, what are you going to do in the future with a sense of direction like that?” Candice’s voice dropped to a soft, teasing murmur. “Well… I have you, don’t I?” They kept talking, trading inside jokes and references I didn’t understand. The back of my throat burned. To hide how completely out of place I was, I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the cold glass, pretending to sleep. Once we dropped Candice off, the car plunged into silence. “Chelsea,” Jackie said quietly, “how long are you going to pretend to be asleep?” “I’m not pretending.” He smirked, catching my eye in the rearview mirror. “Come on. I know you too well to fall for that.” When he pulled up to my driveway, he turned around. “Did you say something to my mom? She was giving me looks all through dinner.” “I didn’t say anything.” “Good.” He paused, reaching over to touch my arm. “Chelsea, don’t be jealous. You know we’re getting engaged after college. That’s a given. Everyone knows it.” “Candice just gets so easily turned around, and I worry about her. That’s all.” “Tomorrow, let’s hit the grocery store. I’ll cook you something special. Deal?” I nodded slowly. “Sure.” He smiled, satisfied, and ruffled my hair. “That’s my girl.” I looked away, staring out the window. I had seen it. The matching woven leather bracelet on his wrist—the exact same one Candice was wearing. The next morning, his car was already idling outside my house. When he saw me, his smile was bright. “Ready, Chelsea?” At the grocery store, he pushed the cart, stopping in the produce aisle to pick up a carton of sour plums. “Try these. They’re great for you.” I stared at the carton. I’ve hated sour food since I was a child. But they were Candice’s favorite. Without a word, I picked up a small container of sliced mangoes instead—something I actually liked—and walked toward the register. He frowned. “You want that? The smell is a bit much, isn’t it?” My voice was even. “I’ve always loved mangoes, Jackie.” He opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out. Then, he pulled out his phone and swiped to his notes app. It was a note he’d kept since we were kids—a digital log of everything I liked and disliked, from my favorite coffee roast to my allergies. Except, when I glanced at the screen, I saw the last edit date. Two years ago. Since Candice had entered the picture, the note had sat abandoned, a relic of a past he’d forgotten to keep up with. His face paled slightly. He slipped the phone back into his pocket. “I’m sorry. I’ll update it later.” “Don’t worry about it.” I dropped the mangoes into the cart. “Let’s go.” After we checked out, he carried the bags to the car. “I’m making roasted lamb chops tonight. You said you wanted them last time, right?” “Last time” was a year ago. But I just smiled. “Sounds great. Just don’t overseason them like last time.” “I know, I know. I’ve got it down,” he said, taking my hand as we walked toward the exit. Suddenly, his phone buzzed. He glanced at me, hesitating before answering. “Hey. What’s wrong?” The voice on the other end was frantic, high-pitched. I couldn’t make out the words, but Jackie’s brow furrowed instantly. “Where are you? What’s around you?” He looked at me, his voice dropping. “Candice’s lost again.” Maybe I wanted to test him. Maybe I wanted to see if there was any part of him left that chose me. For the first time in my life, I didn’t step back. “Call an Uber for her, Jackie,” I said quietly. He shook his head, his hand already slipping from mine. “I can’t. It’s not safe. What if the driver takes the wrong route? She won’t even realize she’s in the wrong place.” I stared at him, feeling the familiar, cold ache settle deep into my chest. It was exactly what I expected. “I’ll drop her home first and come straight back to you. I promise.” And there it was. The moment he finished teaching me how to navigate the world, his very next move was to leave me behind in it. I walked home alone. My throat felt tight, dry. I unscrewed a bottle of water and took a sip, but it tasted salty. I couldn’t tell if it was the water or my tears. I waited from noon until dinner, and then past midnight. He never showed up. I was about to go to bed when I opened Instagram. Candice had posted a photo. It was a shot from behind: Jackie, holding an umbrella, tilting it completely over her shoulder to keep her dry while his own back was soaked. The caption read: “Finally, I know what it feels like to feel safe.” In the comments, classmates had already chimed in: “Oh my god, is that Jackie? Aren’t he and Chelsea practically engaged?” “Out with the old, in with the new, I guess. Looks like Candice won this one!” Candice had replied with a shy monkey emoji: “Don’t say things like that.” I stared at the screen for a long time. Then my phone buzzed. A text from Jackie: “Just got her settled. Sorry for the late reply.” “Those comments on her post are just people joking around. Don’t take them seriously.” “I’ll pick you up for driving school tomorrow morning. Sleep well.” I typed out two letters: “Ok.” He said he was late replying. But the truth was, he was two years late. And some things can’t be fixed. I opened my laptop and stared at the digital acceptance letter from Boston College. Going to BC together had been our pact since we were kids. But since Candice arrived, even our dreams had been crowded out. Without hesitating, I logged into the portal, clicked to decline my spot, and officially accepted the offer from the University of Chicago. If there was no room for me in his life, I would step out of it entirely. The next morning, his car was waiting at the curb. Candice was already in the passenger seat, beaming. “Morning, Chelsea!” Jackie had promised our families he’d help me prep for my driving test. But of course, Candice was here too. By now, I was used to our duo being turned into a trio. I opened the back door and climbed in. Jackie frowned, looking at me through the rearview mirror. “Chelsea, why don’t you sit up front? You haven’t sat next to me in forever.” I shook my head. “It’s fine. More legroom back here.” He started the engine, offering a quick explanation. “Candice wanted to start practicing for her license too, so I figured I’d sign her up at the same school.” “I’m working on getting my motorcycle permit, so I can hang out while you guys practice.” “That’s nice,” I said. Though we were in the same graduating class, Jackie was a year older, having taken his test the previous winter. Hearing me agree so easily, he seemed to relax. “You really need to focus, Chelsea. Don’t be as stubborn as you were when we were kids. You were a nightmare to teach.” Candice chuckled. “Was Chelsea really that bad?” “Terrible,” Jackie said, his voice lifting with fond memory. “I had to show her the same turn eight times before it stuck. In the end, I had to walk her through the neighborhood every day for three months just to give her a basic sense of direction.” He was smiling, lost in the warmth of the memory. Candice watched his expression, her smile faltering for a fraction of a second before she fell silent. When we arrived at the training lot, the summer sun was brutal. As we got out of the car, Candice gasped, shielding her arms. “Oh, it’s so hot. My skin breaks out in hives when I’m in the sun too long.” Jackie’s brow furrowed. He immediately went to the glove box, rummaged around, and pulled out a pair of UV protective arm sleeves. “Here,” he said, handing them to her. “Put these on.” That glove box was where he kept things specifically for me. I used to burn easily, and he had bought those exact sleeves for me last summer, promising he’d never let me get sunburned. Now, he handed them over to someone else without a second thought. Candice slipped them on, her fingers lightly brushing against his sleeve as she smiled up at him. “Thanks, Jackie.” “Of course. Don’t worry about it.” I watched them, waiting for the familiar pang of jealousy, but nothing came. Maybe I was numb, or maybe I had simply stopped caring. After thirty minutes of driving practice, Jackie brought over two iced lattes from the nearby cafe. “Take a break, girls. Have a drink.” I looked at the cups. Candice’s was lukewarm, no ice. Mine was sweating with condensation, packed with ice cubes. I didn’t say anything. He had memorized Candice’s cycle and knew she shouldn’t have cold drinks during her period. But today was the start of mine, too. “What’s wrong?” he asked, noticing my silence. I wanted to tell him I couldn’t drink cold liquids today. But then I saw him reach out to gently wipe a speck of dust from the corner of Candice’s mouth. The words dissolved. “Nothing,” I said quietly. Our instructor, a middle-aged man leaning against the fence, chuckled. “You’re a sweet kid. Real attentive to your girlfriend’s needs, getting her the room-temperature one.” Candice blushed, lowering her eyes. Jackie froze, glancing at me before quickly correcting the man. “Oh, no, sir. Candice isn’t my girlfriend.” The instructor pointed between them, then back at me. “Come on, son. The way you look at her versus the way you look at your sister over there? It’s night and day. Anyone can see Miss Candice is the one.” The air turned heavy, thick with awkwardness. Even a stranger could see it. To Jackie, she was the girl he loved; I was just the sister he was obligated to care for. Candice, wanting to break the tension, quickly changed the subject. “Jackie, did you submit your final college decision yet?” “Yeah. Boston College, like we planned.” Candice’s eyes lit up. “My scores are good enough! I can go there too.” “We can all stay together.” Jackie reached out, affectionately rubbing the top of her head. “Look how excited you are.” He turned to me. “What about you, Chelsea? Did you lock it in?” “I took care of it,” I said. He frowned. “Make sure you do. The portal closes in two days. Don’t leave it to the last minute.” “I know.” He studied my face for a moment, but didn’t press further. On graduation night, our class gathered for an after-party on the football field. Someone in the crowd started chanting: “Jackie! When are you finally going to ask Chelsea out? You two have been acting like a married couple since middle school!” “Yeah, come on, Landry! We’re waiting!” The cheering grew louder, drawing the attention of students from other classes. “Say something, Jackie!” As the eyes of our entire graduating class fell on us, I felt my heart rate spike. With nowhere to hide, Jackie offered a stiff smile and opened his mouth to speak. Beside him, Candice lowered her head. She tugged at his sleeve, her shoulders trembling slightly. “Jackie… I think I want to go home.” Jackie looked at her, his smile vanishing instantly. He turned back to the crowd, his voice cold. “Alright, guys. Stop it.” Hearing those words, a sudden lightness washed over me. There was no bitterness, no crushing disappointment. Just a clean, quiet release. The crowd went quiet, people trading confused glances. I turned and walked away from the field. “Chelsea!” he called, jogging to catch up. I stopped but didn’t turn around. “Why are you leaving? Everyone’s watching,” he said, his breath hitching. “I wanted to leave. Is that a crime?” He went quiet for a second. “She was crying, Chelsea. How was I supposed to answer them?” “She’s fragile. What did you want me to say to her? You have to be understanding.” I let out a soft, humorless laugh. “Understanding?” He grabbed my wrist. “Yes. Our relationship is between the two of us. Do we really need to put on a show for everyone else?” “You’re right,” I said softly, pulling my hand away. So he did understand that relationships were supposed to be between two people. He just chose to ignore it. “In a few days, we’re going to Lake Tahoe to unwind,” he continued, trying to soften his tone. “I booked three tickets. Candice’s coming too. She’s never seen the lake.” When we were kids, we promised each other we’d spend the summer after graduation in Lake Tahoe. Just the two of us, renting a cabin, doing nothing but walking along the shore. He had promised that even if I got lost, he would always find me. Now, he was talking about three tickets. “Chelsea?” “Yeah.” “What do you think?” “We’ll see,” I said, and walked away. The next afternoon was the practical portion of our driving school. Candice and I were paired up for a long-distance drive to a test site in the suburbs. Once we cleared the city limits, the roads became a tangled web of highway exits and unmarked turnoffs. I was completely lost. But Candice drove with absolute confidence, navigating the twists and turns without even opening her GPS. I watched her, a small doubt creeping in. Wasn’t she supposed to have no sense of direction? But I kept the question to myself. We took a sharp turn down a secluded, tree-lined service road. Suddenly, the engine sputtered and died. My phone showed zero bars of service. With the sun setting fast, panic began to rise in my chest. But Candice calmly tapped the screen of her smart band. “What’s that?” I asked. “Jackie got it for my birthday,” she said, showing me her wrist. “It has a built-in GPS tracker. He was worried I’d get lost.” I stared at the woven leather band on her wrist—the perfect match to the one Jackie wore. My heart missed a beat. So that was it. A small light on her band flickered, indicating that the signal had been sent and help was on the way. In that moment, the last remaining spark inside me went cold and dark. An hour later, Jackie arrived with a highway patrol car. He sprinted toward us, his face pale with terror. He threw his arms around me, checking my arms and face. “Chelsea, are you okay? Are you hurt?” “I’m fine,” I said. Once he was sure I was intact, he turned to Candice, his voice dropping to a low, soothing murmur as he talked to her. I leaned against the hood of the broken-down car, looking out at the dark trees. I thought I would feel a rush of emotion seeing him run to me first. But the truth was bitter. If it hadn’t been for the tracker he bought her, we would still be sitting in the dark. Jackie, I thought, I am so tired of being an extra in your movie. For once, he didn’t drive Candice home. He arranged for her to ride back with the patrol officer, insisting that he needed to drive me home himself because I must have been shaken up. When we got back to my house, I went straight to my room to change. Jackie sat on the sofa in the living room, waiting. My laptop was open on the coffee table. When I walked back out, he was staring at the screen, his face completely pale. He looked up at me, his voice trembling. “Chelsea… why does your portal say you accepted the offer from UChicago?”
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