The Exit

The winter air was biting cold. It hit Mia’s bare arms, raising gooseflesh, but she didn't stop. She walked across the asphalt of the parking lot, her heels clicking a steady rhythm.

She reached her car—a beat-up Honda that looked out of place among the Range Rovers and BMWs. She fumbled for her keys.

"Mia! Wait!"

The heavy metal door of the gym banged open. Julian sprinted into the parking lot. He wasn't wearing his jacket. He looked frantic.

He caught up to her as she was unlocking the door. He grabbed her arm.

"Mia, stop! You can't just leave!"

Mia pulled her arm away. She turned to face him. Under the harsh orange glow of the streetlamps, Julian looked small. The bravado was stripped away.

"You ruined it," he gasped, breathless. "I had to... I had to improvise. It was a disaster. Everyone was staring."

"I'm sure you smiled," Mia said, her voice flat. "That usually works."

"I'm sorry, okay?" Julian ran a hand through his hair, messing it up for real this time. "I was just talking to Chloe. I didn't mean it. You know how I get. I just... I say things."

He stepped closer, trying to engage the magnetic field that had always worked on her. He lowered his voice, making it soft, intimate.

"You're not staff, Mia. You're my right hand. We're a team. I can't run this school without you. I need you."

He reached for her hand.

Mia looked at him. She saw the panic in his eyes. It wasn't the panic of losing a friend. It wasn't the panic of losing a girl he loved.

It was the panic of a user losing his supply.

She looked down at her wrist. With calm, deliberate movements, she unclasped the pearl bracelet. She took the white rose—now slightly bruised at the edges—and placed it on the hood of her car.

"You don't need me, Julian," she said.

"I do," he insisted. "I really do."

Mia opened her car door. She looked back at him one last time. She didn't cry. She didn't scream. She just felt a immense, hollow weight lift off her chest.

"Write your own speech," she said.

She got in, slammed the door, and turned the key.

Julian stood there, watching her back out. He looked like he was waiting for her to change her mind. He looked like he was waiting for the scene to reset, for the secretary to return to her desk.

Mia shifted into drive. She didn't look in the rearview mirror. She turned onto the main road, leaving the lights of the academy behind her, driving into the dark, open quiet of the rest of her life.