Fleeting Fireworks, Permanent Separation

Justine saw the Disneyland passes online and booked two tickets without hesitation. One for herself and one for her best friend Jared. After linking them to her account, she glanced at me. Got your ticket yet?

I watched them walk toward security, shoulders brushing, then swallowed hard and bought a single adult pass. By the time I entered, Jared had messaged our group chat. Taking too long, Marc. Were hitting rides first. Dont wait up.

On a trip for three, they always walked together. I was the one left behind. I deleted my draft that said I was coming to find them.

Jared posted a photo of him and Justine in matching Mickey ears, faces close. The caption read, Celebrating our 30th photo together. In ten days in Los Angeles, they had taken thirty photos. I had been left behind thirty times.

At dusk, crowds gathered for fireworks. I finally found them. Justine smiled and held up her phone. Marcus, let me take your picture! I stood alone under the glowing castle, flashing a stiff peace sign.

Before I lowered my hand, she shoved the phone back and looped her arm around Jared. Now take one of us! We want the castle like Nick and Judy. I stared at the screen, handed the phone back, and walked away. This summer trip would never have the ending I had imagined.

Justine hurried after me, catching my arm. "The fireworks aren't even over. Where are you going? Don't wander off and get lost again."

I blinked against the stinging in my eyes, forcing a smile as I turned back. But my gaze fell instantly on their tightly intertwined hands. The smile died on my face.

"I think I want to go back to the hotel."

"Justine, hurry up! The crowd is moving, we need to grab the best viewing spot up front!" Jared's voice cut over mine, loud and urgent.

Justine didn't hesitate. She let go of my arm, turned around, and pulled Jared into the throng.

The surging crowd quickly swallowed them up, pushing me further and further away. It occurred to me then that even if I stood perfectly still, they would still find a way to leave me behind.

As the fireworks erupted into brilliant colors behind me, I walked out of the park gates. I stared blankly at the gridlock of cars stretching into the night. Before we left, Justine had insisted on making all the plans herself, claiming she couldn't trust me to handle the logistics. Now, I was left to navigate the unfamiliar transit system alone, following the signs toward the subway station.

A hand suddenly grabbed my shoulder from behind.

Justine was panting, her face slick with sweat, but her voice carried a sharp chill. "You've been pulling away from us all day. Do you have any idea how exhausting it is to try and enjoy the park while constantly searching for you?"

"I'm sorry..."

The familiar apology died in my throat. During the past thirty times I had been abandoned, I was always the one who apologized.

Jared draped an arm over my shoulder, offering a sweet, easy smile. "Don't mind her, Marc. She's just a typical blunt girl, she doesn't know how to show she cares about guys."

I looked at the heavy backpacks Justine was carrying, along with the giant stuffed animals they had won at the carnival games. Taking a step to the side, I let Jared's arm slip off my shoulder.

"Looks to me like she knows how to care for you just fine," I said quietly.

Jared grinned at Justine. "Aw, looks like our little Marcus is jealous."

Justine scowled, her irritation flashing clearly in her eyes. "He's passive-aggressive from morning to night. Who has the energy to decode his constant mood swings?"

Before I could reply, she spotted a large rideshare vehicle pulling up to the curb. She grabbed Jared's hand and pulled him toward it.

"Those people are looking for passengers to split the fare! Come on, let's go negotiate with them."

After walking a few steps, she seemed to remember I was there. She turned around, calling out over the din of the traffic.

"Marcus, stop throwing a fit. This is the busiest hour, and it's impossible to get a private ride. Jared and I are taking this one. You find three other people to split another car."

Jared waved energetically from the window as the car door slid shut. "See you at the hotel, Marcus!"

I stood frozen on the sidewalk, watching the sleek black car merge into the sea of taillights. At that moment, the sheer panic and humiliation of being abandoned in an unfamiliar city at midnight finally broke me.

Tears spilled over my cheeks, and I wept openly under the streetlights, ignored by the rushing crowds.

I remembered the day high school ended. Justine had been the one to suggest this trip to Los Angeles. She had looked into my eyes under the schoolyard trees and said, "Marcus, let's be official."

But when we arrived at the station on the day of departure, I found out she had bought a ticket for Jared, too.

I pulled out my phone and sent her a text.

Justine, let's break up.

Her reply came almost instantly.

Marcus, are you serious? Are you really throwing a tantrum just because Jared and I walked together today? I did it for your own sake. Your leg can't handle long walks anyway.

Whenever I complained, Justine's excuse was always that she was doing it "for my own sake."

But the only reason my leg couldn't handle long walks was because of them.

During the summer before our senior year, we had taken Jared's family's beat-up minivan to the coast. Jared had insisted on swapping seats with me, forcing me into the passenger side while he played a rowdy game of charades with Justine in the back. They got so wild that Jared accidentally slammed into the driver's seat, forcing the steering wheel out of control.

The van crashed violently into a rock wall. The crumpled passenger door crushed my leg.

During the most intense months of exam prep, I had to navigate school with a heavy plaster cast. Justine had carried me on her back up the stairs for an entire semester. I had allowed myself to believe she did it out of love.

Now, I realized it was nothing more than guilt.

It was nearly midnight by the time I managed to find a rideshare. Since my destination was the furthest, the other passengers gradually filtered out, leaving me alone in the back seat.

I opened the maps app on my phone and realized the driver had veered off the main highway, heading down a dark, unfamiliar road.

Panic seized me. I shared my live location to the group chat, tagging both of them repeatedly.

Where are you guys? Can you look at my route?

This driver is taking a very sketchy turn. Justine, call me on speaker right now so he knows someone is expecting me.

Are you guys there?

The silence stretching inside the car was suffocating. Finally, my phone buzzed with a message from Jared. I wiped the cold sweat from my palms and tapped it open.

Marc, stop spamming the chat. Justine and I are in the middle of a mobile game and the connection keeps lagging because of your notifications.

I stared at the words on the screen for a full minute, and then a dry, hollow laugh escaped my chest.

The driver glanced at me through the rearview mirror, his voice gruff but kind. "Hey kid, we're pretty far out. You should send a message to your family to let them know you're safe."

I nodded numbly, thanking him, but the tears kept silent pace down my face.

When I finally reached the hotel, Justine was sitting on the steps near the lobby. Seeing me limp toward her, she let out a long, weary sigh.

"Marcus, it took you two hours to get a rideshare. I don't even know what to say to you."

I brushed past her, keeping my head down. "Did you see my messages?"

She looked up, her eyes vacant. "What messages?"

Jared walked out of the lobby doors, casually messing up my hair. "Hey, look who finally decided to show up. We thought you got lost in the city forever."

He sat down on the wicker chair next to Justine, immediately leaning over her shoulder to analyze their last game match.

I turned and walked toward the elevators. As the metal doors slid shut, separating me from the two of them, I caught my reflection in the polished steel. My face was pale, my eyes bloodshot and swollen.

The lingering hesitation in my heart finally died.

I pulled out my phone and sent a voice note to my mother.

"Mom, I want to go to McGill. I'm not going to Stanford."

My mother, hearing the exhaustion in my voice, asked if Justine and I had fought. I didn't give her a direct answer.

The next morning, Jared's bed remained perfectly made. He hadn't slept in the room last night.

The group chat was completely silent.

Justine had sent me two private messages in the middle of the night.

Marcus, I just saw the group chat. Next time you call a rideshare, make sure the license plate matches the app.

She followed it with a link to a safety blog post about how to protect yourself in a stranger's car.

There was no apology, no concern. Just cold, clinical advice.

I deleted the link and walked out of the room, determined to end things clearly. I wanted to tell her that this trip was a disaster, and that I was leaving. But when I knocked on her door, there was no answer.

I called Jared's phone. Justine answered.

"You're awake? The hotel breakfast runs until ten, make sure you grab something."

"Where are you guys?" I asked.

The line went quiet for a moment before Jared's voice took over.

"Hey Marc, the hotel gave us a free couple's photoshoot package that expires today. Since you were sleeping in, Justine said we shouldn't bother you. So we just came out to do it ourselves."

"The photographer is waiting on us, so you just relax at the hotel, okay?"

In the background, I heard the photographer's muffled voice. "Come on, guys, show some affection! You're a couple, don't be shy. Press your cheek against hers, perfect, now hold that!"

My fingers trembled, and I hung up the phone.

To distract myself, I booked a last-minute ticket to a local museum. Subconsciously, I wanted to prove a point. I wanted to show them that I could have fun on my own, that I could be the one to abandon them.

But the truth was, they didn't care.

When Justine found out I was at the museum, she sent a brief text.

Cool. Jared and I are meeting an old classmate for lunch. Have fun, let's meet up at the night market tonight.

It was noon. They had just finished their photoshoot. It was clear they had never intended to invite me to their lunch.

That evening, the night market was packed. When Justine saw me, the relaxed expression on her face instantly tightened into a frown. She handed me a cup of boba tea, her voice laced with annoyance.

"Finally, the young master decides to grace us with his presence."

Jared took a long sip of his own drink, his eyes lingering on the iced lemon tea Justine was holding. Without a word, Justine naturally handed her cup to him. Jared took a drink, complained it was too sour, and handed it back. The gesture was so seamless, so practiced, it was obvious they did it all the time when I wasn't looking.

I slowed my pace, letting them drift ahead until the distance between us stretched.

As I walked with my head down, a sudden, heavy force slammed into my shoulder.

A cup of sweet milk tea splattered all over my shirt, and a man's phone flew out of his hand, crashing onto the pavement. The screen shattered into a web of cracks.

The man grabbed my arm with a crushing grip, nearly tearing the skin off my wrist. "Are you fucking blind? This is a brand new phone! Pay for it!"

In the chaos, I looked over the heads of the crowd, locking eyes with Justine.

But she was looking in the opposite direction, frantically pulling at Jared's sleeve. Jared was in a heated argument with a street vendor over a failed digital payment.

"Justine! I have a problem over here, can you help me?" I called out.

Seeing me turn my head, the man slammed me hard against a brick wall. I fell to the ground, and his heavy boot stepped directly onto my swollen ankle, grinding down.

A wave of white-hot agony washed over me, and my vision went dark.

Across the street, Jared finally settled his dispute with the vendor. Justine looked back toward me one last time. Her gaze lingered on my collapsed form for less than a second before Jared grabbed her hand and pulled her around the corner.

In the end, it was an elderly bystander who called the police for me.

By the time I finished giving my statement at the station and returned to the hotel, it was long past midnight. I limped through the lobby, my ankle twice its normal size, throbbing with a dull, sickening heat.

Justine came rushing out of the elevator when she heard the noise, holding a plastic bag of ice and spray from a local pharmacy. She knelt down, trying to touch my ankle.

"Let's ice it first, then use the spray. We'll see how it looks tomorrow."

I stared down at her face. She possessed a cold, analytical maturity that felt entirely unnatural for her age. Her movements were gentle, but all I felt was a freezing numbness.

"You saw me, didn't you?"

Her hands paused on my ankle, but she didn't look up. "I didn't see any fight. Jared was arguing with the vendor, and I was trying to keep him from escalating things."

Her voice was perfectly level, her expression unchanged.

I stared at her, realizing how pathetic I had been.

Jared stood behind her, casually chewing on a candied apple, his voice dripping with mock concern. "Marc, you really shouldn't be so spacey in crowded places. You have to watch where you're going."

Justine let out a soft laugh. "You're acting like you just met him. He's always been clumsy, constantly getting lost."

"Did I choose to get lost?" my voice cracked, cold and sharp. "You saw me. Why didn't you come?"

The warmth drained from her face, replaced by a flash of deep irritation. "Your situation was an issue, but Jared's wasn't?"

I forced myself up, the agony in my ankle making me gasp for air, but I refused to let myself crawl before her anymore.

"Justine, if I'm always your second choice, then don't bother pretending to care."

"Justine, go after him," Jared murmured from behind her, his voice soft and helpless.

Justine raised her voice, her anger finally breaking through. "Don't bother! We agreed to travel as a group, but he is the only one playing the victim!"

I hobbled back to my room, packed my bags, and booked the earliest train ticket home.

When I opened my phone, I saw a new post in the group chat. Jared had uploaded a group photo of the three of us from the night market. It was the first time in eleven days that I had appeared in their photos.

He tagged me.

Marc, Justine said this trip was to make up for the sophomore trip I missed. I didn't know my presence bothered you this much. If it does, I'll buy a ticket and leave tomorrow.

The implication was clear. I was the interloper.

Years ago, during our sophomore summer, Justine had crashed her bicycle into Jared, causing him to undergo a minor brain surgery. Even though the doctors said it was an accident, she had carried the guilt ever since. From that point on, Jared had inserted himself between us, an immovable wedge.

Justine's reply in the group chat was swift.

I won't allow you to leave.

Her favoritism was absolute.

On my feed, Jared had posted a grid of their couple's photoshoot. In the photos, Justine was smiling at him, holding his hand, looking into his eyes with a tenderness she had never shown me.

Our high school classmates were already leaving comments, congratulating them on going official.

I liked the post and added a comment.

You two make a perfect couple.

Minutes later, my hotel door was slammed open. Justine stood there, her eyes flashing with fury as she grabbed my arm. "What is your problem? Why are you leaving passive-aggressive comments on Jared's post? He ran off because of you!"

I stumbled against the wall, my freshly iced ankle twisting again. "Jared is gone?"

"Yes! Thanks to you!" she screamed.

The urgency of finding him seemed to override her anger. I swallowed my tears, limping after her as we searched the dark streets. We split up to cover more ground, and I called Jared's phone dozens of times, getting nothing but voicemail.

At dawn, I dragged myself back to the hotel. I pushed open the door to their room and froze.

Empty beer bottles littered the floor.

On the narrow sofa, Justine had her arms wrapped tightly around Jared's waist, the two of them fast asleep, tangled together.

The sight was the final spark on a long-neglected fuse. The fragile thread of my sanity snapped.

I grabbed a heavy pillow from the bed and began thrashing them with it, screaming in a frenzy.

Did they have any idea how dangerous the streets were at night? Did they care that my leg was screaming in pain?

Jared woke up with a start, his eyes red and swollen with fear. He reached out to stop me. "Marcus, I'm sorry! My phone broke last night, and Justine's phone died!"

I slapped his hand away with all my strength, leaving a bright red mark on his skin.

Justine shoved me back violently, her face dark as night. "Marcus! If you hate seeing us together this much, then get out of this trip! The moment you walk away, our promise is dead!"

I tripped over the edge of the rug, my injured ankle slamming hard against the wooden bedpost. The pain was blinding, but I forced myself to laugh, a loud, hysterical sound to mask the utter humiliation.

"You're already sharing a bed. Why are we even pretending?"

I dragged my suitcase out of the room. Behind me, Jared called my name, but Justine's cold voice cut him off. "Let him go! He thinks the whole world has to revolve around him."

When my mother met me at the train station back home, she took one look at my purple, swollen ankle and gasped.

At the clinic, the doctor stared at the X-rays, his brow furrowed in concern. "This started as a minor strain, but the continuous stress has caused a complete rupture of the Achilles tendon. Even after surgery, you'll have difficulty flexing your heel. You'll likely walk with a permanent limp."

I sat in silence.

My mother held my head against her chest, her tears wetting my hair. "Don't worry, sweetie. We'll find the best doctors. We'll fix this."

The small examination room filled with the sound of my weeping.

A notification popped up in the group chat. It was Jared.

Marc, Justine wants me to apply to the vocational school near Stanford. I checked, and the campus is right down the road. We can all be together again, I'm so happy!

I left the group chat and blocked both of them.

Jared continued to broadcast their trip on the main class group chat.

Thirtieth photo with Justine. We're at the Griffith Observatory today. Someone told me this is the ultimate place to confess. Is that true? Should we try it?

The chat erupted with classmates egging them on.

And then, Jared posted a video.

Justine was holding a bouquet of bright sunflowers, standing on the observation deck overlooking the city lights. Her voice was soft but clear. "Jared, you win. Let's be together."

From behind the camera, Jared laughed. "Okay!"

My chest gave a violent, painful squeeze.

On the night she had agreed to be my girlfriend under the streetlights, she had promised to bring my favorite sunflowers to our college send-off and confess to me properly. Now, those flowers and that promise belonged to Jared.

Three days later, Justine sent me a text.

Marcus, you are so difficult to please. Because of your attitude, I lost a bet to Jared and have to be his girlfriend for three months. When you get to Stanford, don't come see me too often. I don't want Jared to get upset. I'll reach out to you when the bet is over.

But by then, I was already boarding a flight to Montreal.

Justine decided to let me simmer for a few days, convinced I would come around. On the morning of her flight to Stanford, she woke up early and took a taxi to my house, intending to surprise me.

She hesitated at the door for three long minutes, practicing how she would explain that she and Jared were planning to rent an apartment together near campus.

The door opened, and my mother stood there, looking at her with cold surprise.

"Mrs. Zhou, I'm here to pick up Marcus so we can head to the airport together," Justine said, offering her most polite smile.

But my mother's response shattered her composure.

"Justine, Marcus went to McGill."