Chapter 9: Apparently I'm Not The Only One That Occupies The Library In This School

  Monday morning arrived with the residue of a fever dream—something about ice cream and a sequence of events so vivid they made reality feel thin by comparison. I stared at the ceiling for a moment, letting the dream dissolve before reaching for my phone.

  It’s a habit I hate to admit I’ve formed—constantly auditing the digital silence for any mention of the assembly.

  A vote?

  I scrolled back, squinting. I didn't remember anyone mentioning a student vote on our failed plan. I must have reached a level of inattentive mastery during the meeting where my brain simply filtered out the most critical data points. Of course there would be a vote; every major initiative at Aethelgard ended with the student body playing judge and jury.

  Whatever, I'm just gonna focus on getting ready for school.

  Even if it means returning to a place I want to disappear from. I want to start over.

  I pushed myself out of bed and crossed to the window. The world outside was gone, replaced by a fog so dense it felt like the dormitory was floating in a gray vacuum. It was 6:56 AM. If I moved fast, I could secure forty minutes of silence in the library before the first-period rush.

  I headed for the door. The stairwell was a concrete echo chamber, my footsteps sounding like rhythmic thuds against the quiet of the building. I reached the lobby, my eyes fixed on the exit, but just as I reached for the handle, a sharp tug on my shirt killed my momentum.

  "Hey, Zeke!"

  Remi. She was short in stature but possessed a voice that could cut through lead.

  "Hey, Remi," I muttered, the weight of my exhaustion settling back into my shoulders.

  "The school dance is Wednesday. Are you showing up, or are you pulling your usual disappearing act?"

  Why does she talk with me like we're best friends? I can't really ignore her now, we've already started our conversation.

  She spoke with the kind of unearned familiarity that only extroverts can pull off. I considered a polite lie, but that required more energy than I had. "I'm skipping. I always skip."

  "Hah! Typical Zeke," she said, punctuating the sentence with a playful slap to my back that nearly knocked the wind out of me.

  "Like you even know me well enough to say that..."

  "C'mon, Zeke. We might not have talked much this semester, but I know a professional 'function-skipper' when I see one."

  Her face was more smug than ever when she said that. I gave a curt nod, my gaze drifting back to the double doors. The silence between us started to thicken into something awkward, so I threw out a lifeline. "We should probably head to the school."

  "Right!"

  She skipped past me, her energy a jarring contrast to my snail-like pace. I followed her into the gray.

  Small talk, in my experience, is just a frantic bridge people build when they’re terrified of the stillness of silence. Frankly, I don't find much worth in it, but as I watched Remi navigate the fog with effortless cheer, I wondered if my "laziness" was actually just a fear of the effort it took to be that reachable.

  The bay was invisible, the water hidden behind the mist. I had wanted to look over there to process the events of last week, but Mother Nature had effectively ended that wish.

  "Foggy today, huh?" Remi noted, her voice muffled by the damp air, still cutting through my thoughts.

  "Mhm."

  "Sooo, Zeke," she pried, her eyes focused on my face. "What’cha gonna do once we're inside? You gonna go anywhere?"

  "I'm heading to the library."

  "Oh! Same here! I’ve got a book to return."

  "Then I’ll find somewhere else," I countered.

  "Oh really, like where?" She pouted, her expression was a mix between amusement and hurt.

  "...I don't know."

  "Haha! Exactly." She pointed a finger at me, triumphant. "I won't be there long, don't worry about me ruining your sanctuary."

  Oh really, now.

  We walked in silence for a few yards, the dampness of the fog sticking to my uniform. I looked at Remi, then back at the path. My curiosity finally overrode my caution. "Hey, Remi? About the dummy tester thing... what happened with Alizée after the assembly?"

  "Oh, that?" She laughed, though it sounded a bit brittle. "Alizée went totally berserk. But then she started to realize I was right. I honestly thought I was a goner for a second there."

  I'm surprised she didn't get offended by that, I also didn't expect myself to actually ask her either. Sometimes I can't even predict my own social triggers, let alone hers. "Do you notice anything... off with Ophelia lately?"

  Remi tilted her head, looking at the gray sky as if searching for an answer. "Kind of. But everyone has their off days. She can't be a lighthouse of confidence twenty-four-seven."

  Looks like I'm not alone in those feelings, it's almost devestatingly reassuring.

  "I see. I just thought she looked... different."

  "No sweat. She’ll bounce back. She always does," Remi said, her smile returning. She looked at me curiously. "I always see you in the library this time of day. Face-down on the table. Is that your second home?"

  "It’s my second bed," I corrected, adjusting my headphones. "I’m in a perpetual state of sleep debt."

  "You're funny, Zeke! I never would have guessed you had a sense of humor hidden under all that silence."

  "You're just saying that."

  "Don't be so humble. Flaunt your traits!"

  "I don't want to 'flaunt' anything. I don't want to stand out."

  The expression on her face shifted, as if I just stabbed her in the chest just now. Is my philosophy really that hurtful for others, or is she just not able to see the good side of being the ghost in a world full of spirits?

  "But don't you want people to like you more? You'd be popular if you were just... approachable, honest!"

  I opened my mouth to argue, but the words died. I looked at the ground. "Maybe."

  She giggles.

  "Okay then, Boring ol' Zeke." she joked.

  I've never been able to keep conversation with someone of her caliber, maybe that's the one part of me that's not quite developed enough. I'll have to accept the fact that she's on a different level.

  The walk ended at the school’s front doors. It was 7:03 AM. Forty minutes of library time remained—if I could survive the hallway. I stayed on the opposite side of the corridor as we walked, a tactical maneuver to ensure no one mistook us for a couple—if it's even achievable with the method I'm using.

  "We're here, Zeke. Time to head to the library!"

  She said I'd be more popular if I became more approachable, is that really true? I'll need to hear it from other people to truly verify that thought.

  "Hey, Zeke? You ever gonna take those headphones off?" Remi asked.

  "No."

  She pouts, then puts up a coldfront.

  "You're so cold." She added, trying to mimic my stoic behavior in a mocking manner.

  "I'm just being myself. I'm a bit lethargic today, that's probably why."

  "More like lethargic everyday." She playfully joked.

  As we neared the library, the quiet dissipated. A tall male student was hovering over a table of girls, his shadow stretching over their open textbooks. I recognized him instantly—the delinquent who had bowled me over on the stairs last week.

  "Hey! There's a spider on your head!" he barked at one of the girls, placing the toy spider on her head.

  "Huh?! Where?! Get it off!" The girl shrieked, her chair screeching against the floor as she scrambled up.

  The guy doubled over, clutching his stomach. "Hah! It’s a toy, girls! Look at your faces!"

  SLAP.

  The sound echoed off the lockers like a gunshot. The guy clutched his cheek, his "prankster" grin remaining eerily intact despite the red mark blooming on his skin.

  Whats with girls resorting physical abuse to solve problems in this school?

  "You disgust me," one of the girls spat, her voice trembling with genuine anger.

  "Heh. I knew that. Goal achieved," he responded, quick-witted even in his defeat.

  "Your stupid little prank would've worked if it was just them," another girl added, her eyes cold. "Thanks for ruining the morning."

  "No problem!" He waved at them, a performance of bravado that felt strangely hollow.

  Remi and I shared a look. "That was... kind of funny, right?" she whispered.

  "Eh."

  We pushed into the library, but as our presence became evident, the delinquent turned. His eyes locked onto mine, and for a second, the "prankster" mask slipped.

  "Oh, hey there. Did you guys witness that masterpiece? I call it "The Carter Prank", the name's got a nice ring, right?"

  He just asked us two questions, so having to clarify which one I answered to will be a pain.

  "Yes—" I started, but Remi was already ahead of me.

  "Yeah! It was a pretty funny prank," she said, her voice bright but carrying a warning edge. "You might want to avoid doing that around Alizée, though. She’s not big on toy spiders."

  "Well!" He clasped his hands together, shifting into a mock-polite bow while keeping that jagged, joker-like grin. " I'll keep that in mind, that's my newest target. I'm glad I’ve added at least one fan to my roster. I’m Carter. Carter Pickford. Full-time troublemaker, part-time student. Nice to meet you."

  "Remi Cross. Student Council," she replied, her tone matching his energy level.

  Carter gasped dramatically, leaning in until he was inches from her face, his eyes darting around as if the walls had ears. "You're not gonna tell on me, are you? A big-shot Council member like you?"

  "Haha, no! Of course not," Remi laughed, waving him off.

  "Good. Because I heard about your little stunt at the assembly," Carter said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial hum. "Turns out some people hate you for it, and some don't. Personally? I’m a fan of your self-destructive style."

  I watched Remi’s posture falter for a fraction of a second. "Oh. Well... I’m not exactly proud of it. I just did what I thought was right."

  "Oh, c'mon! Don't be lame," Carter teased.

  I stood back, observing the conversation at work. It was a clear demonstration of the hierarchy. Remi had been teasing me only minutes ago; now Carter was teasing her like they were childhood friends. It was a food chain, and in this ecosystem, I was definitely the prey.

  My gaze drifted to the hallway where the girls had vanished, they were even further down than ever. I noticed Alizée trailing behind them, her shoulders tight. She was part of the group, yet she walked a few paces behind, an outlier in her own circle.

  "Oh, right! My book!" Remi remembered, breaking the spell. she dashed to the return chute and dropped the volume in with a metallic clack.

  Carter turned his attention to me. "Alright, what about you, man? What’s your name?"

  "Zeke Beaumont," I said, my voice heavy with the morning's accumulated fatigue.

  "You look like the type to sleep through a tornado if given the chance. That's so me!" He offered a fist bump. I gave in, meeting his hand with a reluctant tap. Obnoxious or not, leaving him hanging felt like a higher energy cost than just complying.

  "Wait—I recognize you," Carter said, squinting. "You're the headphones kid. Sorry about the stairwell incident. My buddy was chasing me because I 'borrowed' his lunch."

  "It's fine," I said. Up close, his hair was a marvel of chemical warfare—bleached nearly white, spiky yet strangely fluffy, like a radioactive cloud.

  "You looking at the hair, Prince Charming?" Carter grinned.

  "Huh? Oh. Yeah."

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  "You've got a cool look yourself, man. What product do you use?"

  "Product?"

  "Oh! Natural bedhead? Respect."

  I had no idea what we were even talking about anymore. The conversation was drifting into a vacuum of nonsense. Fortunately, Remi called out a goodbye and headed for the exit. Carter beamed a farewell, then his gaze went dull for a second, his "prankster" mask flickering as he looked around for his next hit of dopamine.

  His eyes landed on the couch near the library fireplace. A girl was curled up there, buried in a book.

  "Oooh," Carter whispered, his predatory grin returning. "Think I should go bug her next?"

  I recognized the girl instantly as I took a closer look. My blood ran cold. It was Aaxya.

  "No," I said, my voice firmer and louder than I intended. Carter blinked, surprised by the sudden iron in my tone. "You should just head off. She seems... more peaceful than the girls you messed with. Leave her be."

  Carter looked at Aaxya, then back at me. A strange expression of respect crossed his face. "True, true. Know when to fold 'em. Alright, see you never!"

  He galloped off toward the exit, his energy finally leaving the room. I watched him go, wondering if he genuinely liked his role or if he was just as trapped in his "Delinquent" mask as Ophelia was in her "Leader" one.

  I walked over to Aaxya. She was hyper-focused, her eyes darting across the pages with a hunger that suggested she wasn't just reading—she was escaping. I sat down next to her, and it became evident she wasn't aware of my presence just yet.

  "A-Aaxya?" My voice cracked, the sound betraying my nerves.

  "Huh?" She startled, her book snapping shut with a muffled thump. "Oh! Sorry! I didn't mean to... oh, hello, Zeke."

  "Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. You seemed into the book."

  "O-oh, yeah. It’s... it’s pretty good." She clutched the book to her chest. "I was just reading to pass the time. To wait—for someone!"

  "For who?" My oblivious nature seeping out.

  "..." She looked at me, her face reddening. "...For you," she clarified.

  The realization hit me hard. She had waited for me. In this world of social predators and prey, she’d chosen to seek me out. That was because we were both prey, forming an alliance to fight against that very hierarchy.

  No, it was more like a bond.

  "I'm glad I spotted you at the bay last week," I said, trying to thaw the silence.

  "O-oh, well. I was happy you came to talk to me," she whispered, her gaze drifting to the fireplace. The warmth of the flames was growing, but the heat in my own chest felt more significant. "I thought... I thought you didn't want to talk to me anymore. Since the assembly."

  "What? No—I wanted—" I stopped. I couldn't tell her I was a broken mess who didn't want to be seen. "I’m sorry. I didn't get the chance. Student Council was... heavy."

  I hate lying, but being real just means you have to be ready to face reality. I knew in that moment that it was all just a perfectly constructed white lie, and in all honesty it was just as pathetic as the last.

  "Oh! I'm sorry then," she said, her eyes wide with guilt. "I feel so selfish for saying that..."

  "You're not selfish," I said quickly. "If you're selfish, then so am I."

  I checked my the lone clock on the wall. 7:55 AM. The deadline was closing in. "We should get going. What's your first class?"

  "Alchemy. Why?"

  "N-Nothing... Just checking."

  Aaxya sat there, frozen for a moment. "I want to try my best here, Zeke. But that class... it makes me feel like I’m not good enough."

  Don't fall into that trap. I thought. Don't let those grades define you, it overshoots the person you really are.

  "It’s alright," I said, though I knew my advice was thin. "You can still try your best even if you fail. I’m sorry—that’s probably terrible advice."

  She smiled softly at me, her English becoming more fluent with every word she spoke. She stood up, and so did I, "We should go to class now, Zeke."

  "Right."

  We parted at the library doors. As I headed toward Astronomy, the taste of the white lie remained in my mouth, but for the first time in a week, the need to do so faded.

  Astronomy, not a class to remember. I effectively fit the lesson, lectures, and notes all into one folder and put it in the trash. There wasn't a single piece of important information in that folder anyways.

  With that, I slept through most of Astronomy. I’m convinced the school day contains "dead zones"—portions of my life cut from my memory because the boredom reaches a frequency that my brain simply refuses to record.

  "Alright, class. You may be dismissed," the professor announced, gesturing vaguely toward the skylight. "Think as if you're one with the stars!"

  Now I have to worry about my second class; Writing. It's second in introspective nature, since some of it involves critical thinking. I'm not one to judge though, I lack critical thinking in everything.

  I gathered my things, I wouldn't be surprised if he had a part-time job as a fortune teller, I wondered.

  I walked out, hands shoved deep into my pockets, and headed for the stairwell. Last week, I would have never considered getting up at all, but my current goal was efficiency. Being late isn't apathetic; it’s an issue that causes more problems that challenges apathy.

  I was halfway down the corridor when Alizée stepped out of the restroom. Our paths were on an unavoidable intercept course.

  It'd be awkward if I didn't exchange a greeting with her.

  "Hey, Alizée," I said, deciding to expend the energy to speak first.

  "Bye, Zeke," she responded, her voice flat. She didn't slow down. No eye contact. No follow-up.

  What was I thinking...? I'm never doing that again.

  She effectively killed the conversation before it could even draw breath. What the hell was that for? I shrugged it off—or tried to. As I descended toward the Writing wing, I spotted her usual friend group standing near the lockers.

  Alizée was conspicuously absent from the circle. That's strange. I wondered if their class routes just didn't intersect, or if their strained relationships was already beginning to isolate her.

  Eh, it's probably just their class routes that don't intersect.

  I made it to my class. I know absolutely no one here, but its whatever.

  I looked at the board, seems like we'll have to answer the big question on display. I'll think about it later, I'm just wondering which nap position seems most comfortable at the moment.

  Writing class was a room of strangers. I took my seat in the back, tucked against a window that looked out over a long, quiet porch running along the side of the building. The fog was thinning, but it still clung to the edges of the world like a fading memory.

  As I got my pencil and paper out of my bag, I looked at the whiteboard a little bit closer.

  "What is one thing in the world that you think is stupid?"

  I didn't have to think. I wrote my name, the date, and a single word: School.

  I rested my head on my arms. I knew the ritual—the class would spend the next hour in a heated, performative debate over the prompts, allowing me to slip into the void.

  That void would help blur the lines between this class and the next.

  I didn't even dream. It was just a blink and third hour is already over.

  My slumber effectively disrupted my sense of time, but there wasn't much to comment about for the classes that followed. I was caught in the time plane again once I realized lunchtime was just around the corner.

  By using the momentum of the swing, I wrapped the schoolbag strap around my shoulder and began the painfully long journey to the cafeteria.

  By the time I reached the cafeteria, my hunger had finally overridden my desire for isolation. I wound up walking behind a slow-walker—a specific brand of torture. I eventually navigated around them and scanned the room.

  While I was debating which line to eat in, before choosing the sandwich line. Then I saw Alizée’s friend circle again.

  Four of them were huddled at a table meant for four. Then, one of them reached out and pulled a chair from a neighboring table to make room for a fifth person. My chest tightened for a second before I realized they were making space for Alizée. My theory was wrong. She wasn't being excluded.

  Why do I even care? I chided myself, grabbing a sandwich and retreating to an empty circle table.

  I sat there, dissecting my own lunch and my own thoughts. My meal intake was becoming as inconsistent as my social life. It was a flaw I needed to overcome; self-diagnosis is a dangerous game, but I didn't want to start checking boxes for a depression diagnosis. Most doctors probably spend half their day dealing with "anxious overthinkers" who’ve spent too much time on medical forums.

  "Zeke! Hey!"

  The cafeteria was full of overcrowded chatter, but Remi’s voice was a frequency I could never quite tune out. She emerged from the crowd and leaned over my table, her black hair flicking back as she scrutinized me.

  Seems like she's grown more attached to me by the day. Doesn't she have other friends?

  "You tired already, Zeke?"

  "Not really..." I lied, placing my sandwich on the table, punctuated by an instinctual yawn.

  "Mmm. Well, I want to start over."

  What?

  She reached out a hand, her expression turning uncharacteristically formal. "I'm Remi Cross!"

  I stared at her hand, confused. "I'm Zeke Beaumont. Why are we... 'starting over'?"

  She laughed, though it was tinged with a rare awkwardness. "I just feel like I made a bad impression. I wanted you to know that the 'saboteur on stage' isn't the real me."

  I shook her hand. Before I could return to my sandwich, she was already backing up, stretching her head out while scanning the room. "Doesn't Alizée have this lunch? We should all eat together! It’ll be like a Council bonding session."

  "I think she's with her friends, Remi. We should—"

  "Ooh! I see her! Let's go!"

  Damn it, Remi.

  She gestures me to follow, but I stay seated.

  I stayed seated, watching Remi charge toward Alizée’s table like a social wrecking ball. I felt the obligation pull at me like we were attached by rope. I stood up and trailed behind her just as she reached Alizée.

  "Alizée! You should come eat with me and Zeke!" Remi beamed.

  Alizée looked up, mid-swallow. "No way. Can't you see I'm busy?"

  "We're all Student Council, though," Remi persisted. "Just this once?"

  I glanced at Alizée’s friends. They weren't talking. They were just... watching. There was a look in their eyes—a silent, judgmental exchange of information. It was "social telepathy gossip" at its most toxic.

  But, I've never noticed this before. Her friends were never like that before the assembly. Is there something that happened or am I just now seeing it for myself?

  "Alright, fine," Alizée muttered, wiping crumbs from her chin and grabbing her tray. "Just this once."

  "Yes!" Remi clenched her fists.

  I just nodded along. Alizee got up from her seat, wiping off food crumbs, then picked up her food tray.

  We retreated to my original table, but a new student had stood in our way. Carter Pickford was sitting in my seat, leaning back with a look of supreme boredom.

  "Hey, ladies," he said, his eyes locking onto Alizée.

  The air between them turned electric. Alizée’s knuckles went white as she gripped her tray. "What are you doing at our table, Carter?"

  "No one was sitting here," he replied, his grin sharpening. "Thought I’d get some rest."

  "You don't even have first lunch. Get back to class."

  I know for a fact he didn't know this was my spot, and he's just playing it off by messing with Alizee.

  "Don't worry, I don't really care about my classroom right now. I told them I needed a snack. I ended up here instead."

  Remi clapped her hands, desperate to diffuse the ticking time bomb. "Okay! Let’s all just sit down!"

  "I'm not going to sit at the table with the likes of him." Alizee grudgingly admits.

  She set her tray down on the table anyway, deciding to stand up and eat.

  "Tch, it's not any different from sitting down is it?" He playfully snapped.

  "Shut up, wormface."

  "I've heard that worms actually have some pretty solid facial features."

  "..."

  Alizee is outwitted once again.

  Alizée grudgingly sat, though she refused to look at him. "Your snack time is up. Leave."

  "Fine, fine," Carter said, standing up with a motion so slow it was physically painful to watch. "I'll go... eventually."

  He gets up, in a motion so slow it's painful to watch.

  "Get your ass to class!" Alizée barked, giving him a shove. Carter stumbled, regained his balance, and rubbed his back with a chuckle.

  "You hit hard for someone your size," He mocked, before darting off into the crowd.

  "And you speak too much for your—your..." She responds, trying to come up with a proper comeback.

  "Well Alizee! That was quite the show!" Remi leaned back, clapping.

  "Shut up, Remi," Alizée snapped. "He's such a pain."

  "Woah! Don't lash out at me," Remi laughed, leaning in.

  "Whatever, I'm sorry. I'm not trying to be mean to you."

  "You really mean that? You’re not just being mean?" Her smile grew by the second.

  "Yes, Remi. I mean it."

  "Really? Reaaaally?"

  "Yes! Stop it!"

  "I can't help it! You're too cute for me to stop!"

  I sat back, trying to vanish into the background noise. I’d play the "unaware" card if they tried to pull me in.

  "Zeke!" Remi called.

  "Huh? What’s going on?" I faked it perfectly. That happened faster than I'd anticipated.

  "My friends and I. We’re going horseback riding later. Want to come?"

  "...No."

  "Whaaat? Why?"

  "There's plenty of valid reasons on why I shouldn't go, but I'm a bit lazy to list each one of them..."

  I'm trying to reject her invite, but it's tough. Rejections are one of those things you think you have covered but are actually extremely hard to master.

  "Give me one," she challenged, flashing a puppy-dog face—a high-level social weapon that likely worked on 99% of the male population.

  "You’re the only person there I know."

  "Then get to know people!" she barged in.

  "No thanks."

  "You're so boring, Zeke!"

  I am.

  "Sorry..."

  The bell rang, mercifully cutting the tension. I stood up immediately, intending to disappear into the crowd before Remi could pitch another invite to an event. I needed to reset my energy levels before the next "garbage fire" of a class began.

  The rest of the afternoon moved quickly. I didn’t utter a single word for the final three hours of the day—a personal record in energy conservation. Even Rosalie, usually a persistent girl, was silent. When the final bell rang, she didn't even look my way; she simply gathered her things and vanished into the hallway.

  I lingered in my seat for a minute, waiting for the high-energy crowd to clear out. When I finally stepped into the corridor, I spotted a familiar silhouette near the lockers. Ophelia.

  She was walking with her head down, her usual "Leader" posture was unavailable. I realized then how little I’d actually seen of her since the assembly. I’ve been so focused on my own "Point B" that I’d ignored the person who was clearly drowning in Point A.

  I wanted to step forward—to be the hero who offers the perfect, clinical piece of advice—but courage without the proper tools is just a fast way to get hurt. I stayed back, watching her disappear around a corner, and turned toward the library.

  It's weird though, she's been acting strange these past few days, and not even the weekend filtered it. The day felt extremely long, and not even that was as long as her current "depressed" state.

  The walk was peaceful, the student count thinning as the fog finally surrendered to a pale, late-afternoon sun. I closed my eyes for a second, adjusting my headphones to drown out the distant chatter of the courtyard.

  Oof!

  What the...

  The impact was sharp, jolting me back into the physical world.

  "I-I'm so sorry!" a girl cried out.

  "It's fine..." I stumbled back, rubbing a dull pain in my forehead. My headphones had stayed on, mercifully, but the girl’s book was sprawled on the floor between us. I looked down, my vision clearing.

  My headphones didn't fall off this time...

  Should I help her out?

  "Aaxya?"

  "Oh—Zeke? I'm so sorry! I wasn't looking, I was just—"

  "You don't have to apologize again," I said, offering a hand to help her up.

  "I'm sorry," she whispered, then caught herself and looked at the ground, her face flushing a deep crimson.

  I sighed, but it wasn't out of annoyance. It was just... gravity. "It’s fine. Don't worry about it."

  Aaxya shifted her weight, clutching her book to her chest. "Z-Zeke? I was thinking... maybe you'd want to go horseback riding? With me?"

  Her eyes were fixed on a point somewhere near my shoes. I had just told Remi that I wouldn't be going. I had a list of reasons. I had a philosophy to maintain. A simple "No" would've been enough.

  "Yeah," I said, my hands disappearing into my pockets as I looked out at the courtyard. "If you're going. I wouldn't want you to be out there alone."

  A soft, genuine smile broke across her face. "Oh! Okay!"

  ...

  The path to the stables was a quiet ascent. We didn't speak, but it wasn't the heavy, suffocating silence of the Student Council; it was a mutual agreement to enjoy the landscape without small talk.

  However, as the stables came into view, it hit me. Remi. She’d mentioned she was coming here with her friends. My brain had completely thrown that memory off the cliff moment Aaxya asked me.

  "You changed your mind, Zeke?" Remi’s voice carried across the paddock. She cupped her hands around her mouth, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

  I simply shook my head, my face a mask of neutral indifference.

  Then, she noticed Aaxya standing beside me. Her expression shifted instantly. She lip-synced an "Oh, I see," grinning and nodding like she’d just solved a complex puzzle, before trotting her horse back toward her circle of friends.

  I turned away, trying to focus on the ambience of the area. The nearby waterfall created a white-noise roar that made the world feel small and private. But as I watched the top of the falls, I noticed something that didn't fit the landscape.

  Rosalie.

  She was sitting criss-crossed at the very edge of the precipice, a book open in her lap. Her orange hair fluttered in the breeze, backlit by the late sun in a way that felt unnaturally cinematic. The hill leading up to her wasn't steep; it was an easy climb, devoid of the "No Trespassing" signs that usually cordoned off the school’s more dangerous scenic spots.

  "Aaxya, don't go to the stables yet," I said, my voice firmer than usual. "Follow me."

  "Huh? Why?"

  "I need to see what my friend is doing up there," I said, pointing toward the figure on the falls.

  Aaxya followed my finger, her eyes widening as she spotted the orange hair against the blue sky. "Who is that?"

  "Rosalie."