Ximena's POV
The atmosphere at Frederick's felt lighter today.
Instead of feeling like we were performing under a microscope, the diner wrapped around us like a warm blanket. This was our sanctuary, the place that had never cared about high school politics or social media drama.
We claimed our usual corner booth, the same worn vinyl seats we had squeezed into since middle school. Anton and Ezekiel settled on one side while Glenda and I took the other. The familiar symphony of clinking silverware, sizzling bacon, and casual chatter created the perfect background for what felt like the first normal moment we had shared in weeks.
Glenda twisted her straw around her iced coffee, creating tiny whirlpools in the dark liquid. "So tell me the truth," she said, fixing Anton with an expectant stare. "Is yesterday still the hot topic?"
