Have you ever had one of those moments where the past suddenly reappears, uninvited? One minute, I’m wiping down tables at the restaurant I call home, and the next, I’m staring into the eyes of the girl who made my high school years a living nightmare.
So, picture this: I’m just minding my own business, cleaning tables at the cozy restaurant where I work. The kind of place where the smell of freshly brewed coffee hits you before you even step inside. The regulars know your name, your favorite drink, and probably your life story if they stick around long enough.
Today, I’m helping out with extra cleaning because Beth, one of our waitresses, isn’t feeling well. She’s pregnant—glowing and beautiful—but she had a faint spell earlier, so the rest of us are picking up the slack. We’re like family here; when one of us needs help, we don’t hesitate.
I’m scrubbing a table in the back, lost in thought, when I hear it—laughter. Not just any laughter, but the kind that takes you right back to high school. My stomach tightens, and even before I look up, I know. I know exactly who it is.
It’s Heather.
Heather Parker, the queen bee who ruled the high school social scene and made my life hell for four straight years. There she is, strolling into the restaurant with that same confident swagger, her signature laugh echoing through the room, followed by her entourage: Hannah and Melissa.
It’s like nothing’s changed. They used to mock me relentlessly—my clothes, my hair, even my dreams of leaving that town someday.
I freeze, gripping the cloth in my hand, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. They haven’t seen me yet, but I can already feel that familiar burn on the back of my neck—the whispers, the sneers, the looks that cut you down without a word.