The Last Day of School

The Last Day of School

By [Javid khan]

Genre: Fiction / Teen Drama / Slice of Life

Period 1 – Homeroom

The morning bell rang like a sigh.

Everyone was buzzing, throwing notes, hugging, already talking about summer. The walls had that strange smell — marker ink, dust, and anticipation. It felt like the room knew it would never hold us the same way again.

Lena sat two seats ahead of me, legs tucked under her, hair braided the same way since sophomore year. She glanced back, smiled, and held up a finger. One day left, she mouthed.

I nodded. One day.

We used to sit together. Back in freshman year, we were inseparable — lunch tables, group projects, late-night phone calls about nothing. But somewhere around junior year, something shifted. We drifted. Or maybe I let go first.

Period 2 – Literature

Ms. Collins passed out blank sheets of paper. “Write a letter to your future self,” she said, as if it weren’t already the most emotionally loaded day of the year.

Everyone groaned, but I stared at the page.

I wrote, You miss her more than you’re willing to admit. And you don’t even know why you let it get this way.

I watched Lena from the corner of my eye. She scribbled fast, always had something to say. Her lips were moving silently — she did that when she was deep in thought. I remembered the way she'd once read poetry like it mattered.

I wondered if her letter included me.

Period 3 – Chemistry

The teacher gave up on teaching and let us wander around in lab coats taking selfies.

I found Lena near the windows, looking out across the football field. I walked up beside her, pretending to adjust my safety goggles.

She didn't look at me. “Remember when we tried to build that vinegar volcano and it exploded all over your pants?”

I laughed. “You mean when you misread the instructions?”

Her lips curled into a smile. “I missed this,” she said softly. “Us.”

I wanted to say Me too. But I didn’t. Instead, I said, “It doesn’t have to end.”

She turned to me then. “Doesn’t it?”

Period 4 – Lunch

Everyone signed yearbooks with rushed hearts and inside jokes.

Lena’s yearbook sat between us on the cafeteria table, untouched by my pen.

“You’re quiet,” she said.

I shrugged. “Just thinking.”

“I know,” she said, poking at her mashed potatoes. “You’ve been thinking for two years. About something. You never said what.”

I looked up. “You want to know?”

She nodded slowly.

I leaned in. “You were always the brave one, Lena. The one who said what she felt. I wasn’t like that. I kept things in. Too long.”

She blinked. “What things?”

“I liked you,” I said. “Freshman year. And sophomore. And probably still. But I didn’t say it. And I think that ruined us.”

She stared at me. The air between us was thick, the hum of other conversations muffled.

Then she whispered, “I liked you too. I waited. But then… I stopped waiting.”

Period 5 – History

We sat in the back. Our knees touched under the desk.

Mr. Donnelly droned on about revolutions, but we weren’t listening.

“Why now?” she asked.

“It’s the last day,” I said. “I didn’t want to leave without telling you the truth.”

She smiled, but it was sad. “So we get one day to be honest?”

“It’s better than none.”

We didn’t talk for the rest of the class. But she didn’t move her knee.

Period 6 – Final Bell

Lockers slammed. Hugs were exchanged like currency. Some kids cried. Others sprinted down the halls like prisoners finally free.

I met Lena by the front doors, the late afternoon sun pouring through the glass.

“Want to walk with me?” she asked.

We stepped outside together, the sky impossibly blue.

Side by side, we walked to the school gates.

She stopped just before the edge. “This is where it ends,” she said.

“Or begins,” I said.

She turned to me, smiling — no sadness this time, just the kind of smile you give someone when you forgive them, when you remember everything that mattered and decide to keep it anyway.

“I don’t know what happens next,” she said.

“Me neither,” I replied. “But maybe we figure it out. Together.”

She reached for my hand. I let her take it.

And we stepped through the gates.