Chapter 5: Rooftop Rain and a Broken Heart

After the results, I texted my guidance counselor. She replied instantly, overflowing with pride. Seven Venmo notifications popped up—$711 total. I laughed, half in disbelief, half in joy. Who knew success smelled like seven Venmo notifications and a guidance counselor’s happy dance?

She insisted I was the top liberal arts student in school, maybe even in the state. I hadn’t told my parents; they still thought I’d barely passed. Three hours later, no one asked about my score—their attention was all on Aubrey, who was still crying for a recheck.

The weather app said rain. I had a stuffed animal drying on the roof deck. The sky was bruised gray, thunder rumbling. I wrapped up in a jacket and crept upstairs.

Our building is old, the stairs to the roof narrow and steep. I stepped outside, rosemary brushing my ankle. The wind whipped the sheets like sails.

The summer night was thick, the air both stifling and cool. And then I saw Caleb—back to the city, hands in his jacket pockets, the glow of his phone lighting his face. Aubrey stood in front of him, shoulders shaking.

Raindrops started to fall, making the air smell like wet concrete. Aubrey’s voice was soft and broken: "Caleb, I messed up, I didn’t do well, I really blew it..."

She pressed her hands to her face, sobbing. Caleb watched her, jaw tight. I pressed myself into the shadows, chest squeezed so tight I wondered if I’d ever breathe right again. I wanted to scream, but all I could do was disappear into the darkness.

I should’ve left. But I stayed, like an addict, hoping Caleb would say something harsh. But he wasn’t that kind of guy.

"It’s okay. 1100’s still good. You can always go to grad school," he said, voice calm and steady.

Aubrey sobbed, "But now I can’t go to the same school as you."

She looked up at him, eyes shining with tears.

Caleb didn’t answer. The rain picked up. He looked up, squinting at the sky.

A cold drop landed on my nose. "It’s raining," he said, then took off his windbreaker and draped it over Aubrey’s head, tugging it gently down. For a second, their faces were inches apart.

Aubrey stood on tiptoe, arms wrapping around Caleb’s neck. Their bodies leaned together, the city blurring behind them. My heart cracked, slow and silent.

Their heads leaned together, lips just inches apart.

I slipped down the stairs, heart pounding, knowing I’d never be the girl he looked for in the rain.