Tuesday morning began like any other, but Sophie felt a subtle shift within herself. The events of the past weekend had left her with an unshakable sense of clarity. For the first time, she wasn't just existing—she was stepping into who she was meant to be.
At her locker, Rachel appeared, holding her phone up with an excited grin. "Guess what?"
"What?" Sophie asked, cautiously amused.
"Your poem," Rachel said, thrusting the phone into Sophie's hands. "It's trending on the school forum. Someone recorded you at the open mic!"
Sophie stared at the screen, her face warming as she saw a video of herself reading her poem. The comments below were overwhelmingly positive, filled with words like beautiful, relatable, and raw.
"Why didn't anyone tell me they were recording?" Sophie murmured, equal parts mortified and touched.
Rachel shrugged. "Does it matter? You're officially the girl everyone's talking about—for a good reason!"
---
By lunchtime, the buzz around Sophie's poem had only grown. A few students approached her in the cafeteria, congratulating her or sharing how much her words meant to them.
"I didn't know you wrote like that," said Emma, one of the more popular girls in their grade. "I write too, but I've never been brave enough to share."
"You should," Sophie said earnestly. "It's scary, but it's worth it."
Emma smiled. "Maybe I will. Thanks, Sophie."
As Emma walked away, Sophie glanced at Rachel and Max.
"You're becoming a poetic guru," Max teased, stealing a fry from Sophie's tray.
"Stop," Sophie said, laughing. "It's not that serious."
But deep down, she was starting to believe that maybe it was.
---
That evening, Sophie sat at her desk, scrolling through the forum comments. The support felt overwhelming in the best way, but it also came with a hint of pressure.
What if her next poem didn't live up to expectations? What if she wasn't as good as people thought?
She closed her laptop and grabbed her notebook, hoping to quiet her doubts through writing. But the words wouldn't come.
---
The next day in English class, Mr. Daniels handed back their essays with feedback. Sophie's was marked with a bright red A.
"Great work as always, Sophie," he said, pausing at her desk. "By the way, I noticed the video of your poem on the forum. You've got quite the audience."
Sophie blushed. "Yeah, it's a little overwhelming."
Mr. Daniels nodded. "That's understandable. But remember, your voice is yours. Write for yourself first. The rest will follow."
His words stayed with her for the rest of the day, offering a much-needed sense of grounding.
---
That evening, Sophie returned to her notebook with renewed determination. This time, she didn't think about the forum or her peers. She wrote simply for the joy of it, letting the words flow freely.
When she finally set her pen down, she felt lighter—like she'd reclaimed a piece of herself.