Chapter 1: The Bell Rang, Then We Ran

Monday Morning

Troy Robinson

Troy's alarm has already gone off twice. When it blares for a third time, he finally reaches over to the nightstand and hits Turn Off instead of Snooze.

He groans and rubs his eyes. If he doesn't move now, he's going to miss the bus.

A loud snore comes from the floor.

Troy sits up and grabs a pillow, tossing it down at the lump of blankets beneath the bed.

"Dude. Get up. We're gonna be late."

Wyatt shifts but barely opens his eyes. The alarms wake him every time, yet somehow he always manages to fall right back asleep.

"What time is it?" he mumbles through a yawn.

Troy digs through his drawer for a shirt, then reaches under his desk and pulls out a pair of brand-new running shoes. He turns them over in his hands for a second—still spotless. Finally getting to use them at track practice today.

"You're the one wearing a watch." He teases Wyatt.

Wyatt groans and flicks his wrist up to his face. After squinting at it for a second, he mutters, "Thirty minutes." Then he shrugs. "Good thing the pep rally's taking up first period. We planned to sleep in right before it ends, remember?"

"Yeah well, I'm already up." Troy replies.

Wyatt pushes himself upright from the floor, blankets sliding off his shoulders. With a slow stretch he twists left and right until his back cracks.

"Bro," he says, glancing at the bed, "when are you actually gonna let me sleep up there?"

"It's a twin bed," Troy says, tossing clothes over his shoulder.

"Right. Right." Wyatt stands and laughs. "Next time you get the floor."

"Didn't you say sleeping flat is better for your back?"

"I did," Wyatt says, pulling on his overshirt. "But a few nights on the bed wouldn't kill you."

Troy opens his bedroom door and is immediately hit with the smell of breakfast.

The kitchen light is already on. Georgia sits at the table with a bowl of cereal, scrolling on her phone.

Troy nods at her but keeps moving toward the bathroom.

Before going in, he glances back to make sure Wyatt didn't collapse again.

Instead, Wyatt is wrestling with his overshirt—wearing it completely backwards.

Troy laughs, shakes his head, and shuts the bathroom door.

Georgia Miller

Georgia is always up before six.

By the time Troy comes down the hall, she's already dressed—jacket zipped to her chin, long braid hanging down her back. Her duffel bag sits by the front door where she left it the night before.

She glances up from her cereal just long enough to see him nod in her direction before disappearing into the bathroom.

A second later the door clicks shut.

Not long after, Wyatt wanders down the hallway, still fighting with his shirt.

"Bro," he calls toward the bathroom, "my shirt's backwards."

Georgia huffs a quiet laugh into her cereal bowl.

Wyatt staying over isn't unusual. It happens enough that she barely notices anymore.

She sets her spoon down and glances toward the front door where her bag waits.

The house still feels different sometimes.

For most of her life it was just her and her dad, Lonnie. Just the two of them in a much quieter place than this. Weekends were usually spent outside—walking the woods, tracking deer, practicing with the bow he bought her when she was younger.

She tried rifles later. Even a crossbow once.

But the bow always felt right.

Things changed last year when her dad remarried.

Now the house smells like Maureen's cooking in the mornings, and Troy moves through the hallway getting ready for school.

Georgia doesn't really mind it.

Maureen is kind—easier to talk to than Georgia expected.

Troy, though... that part is still a work in progress.

Neither of them has ever had a sibling before, and it shows. Most mornings they just exchange quiet nods in the kitchen before heading out the door.

It isn't bad.

Just unfamiliar.

And slowly, day by day, it's starting to feel a little more normal.

Wyatt Clarke

Wyatt shuffles through the hallway, running a hand wildly through his short, wavy hair in a failed attempt to tame it.

It never really works.

His watch glints on his wrist as he pulls his sleeve down over the collared shirt he insists on wearing under everything. Khakis, as usual.

The look is something he picked up from his grandpa years ago—and never really dropped.

Wyatt wanders into the kitchen and immediately snatches a few stray pieces of bacon from the counter before anyone can stop him. He chews as he drifts toward the table where Georgia sits.

"Sup, Gia," he says through a mouthful of bacon.

"Wyatt," Georgia replies without looking up, flipping through the newspaper spread across the table.

Her eyes briefly catch a small headline buried near the bottom of the page:

Local Research Facility Temporarily Closed After Safety Inspection.

She pauses for half a second, then turns the page.

Wyatt smirks. "Damn, Gia. Of course you're ready. You've probably been up since, like, five."

"Doesn't hurt to wake up early," Georgia says calmly. She turns another page before glancing up at him. "It also doesn't hurt to go to bed on time."

Wyatt scoffs, grinning. "Okay, okay—yeah, we stayed up later than we should've. But listen... we still got up."

He spreads his arms like he's expecting applause.

Georgia lets out a quiet laugh and shakes her head.

"You know I absolutely hate that nickname," she says.

"That's why I love it," Wyatt replies with a grin.

A few minutes later the bathroom door opens and Troy walks into the kitchen, dressed in a plain white tee, a zip-up hoodie, and sweatpants.

"Anything left?" he asks.

Wyatt slowly turns toward him with a guilty look.

"Oh... sorry," he says. "You wanted some?"

Troy glances at the bowl that once held the bacon.

Completely empty.

He laughs and shakes his head. "It's alright. I'll grab something at school."

Across the kitchen, Georgia stands and walks to the front door. She unzips her duffel bag just enough to check inside.

Her bow rests neatly within it beside a case of arrows.

She closes the bag again.

Troy and Wyatt finish gathering their things, adjusting backpacks and shoes just as the school bus honks outside.

Wyatt grabs his worn running shoes near the door and eyes Troy's new pair.

 "Don't think those are saving you at practice today," he says.

"Oh yeah?" Troy shoots back. "Watch me leave you in the dust I kick up."

Georgia is the first out the door.

The boys rush after her.

On the ride to school, Troy notices an odd number of police cars speeding past them in the opposite direction.

One.

Two.

Three.

By the time they reach the edge of town, he's counted five.

Strange for a Monday morning.

But he brushes the thought aside.

Cram Academy

The bus slows as it approaches the school gate.

With a mechanical hum, the metal barrier rolls open. A teacher standing beside it lifts a hand and waves the bus through.

Cram Academy rises two stories above the morning crowd, its brick buildings stretching across campus. Students spill across the walkways and fields—some heading toward the entrance, others drifting toward the gym or the athletic fields.

The bus doors fold open with a hiss.

Georgia steps down first, Troy and Wyatt close behind her.

Troy has his brand-new running shoes tied together by the laces and slung over the back of his neck—his subtle way of making sure everyone notices them.

They join the steady stream of students heading toward the school entrance. Voices echo through the courtyard—friends calling to each other, basketballs thumping somewhere near the gym, lockers slamming inside the building. A group of students rush past them toward the gym, arguing loudly about the pep rally.

Halfway to the doors, they nearly collide with Chase Lewis.

He joined Troy and Wyatt back in middle school and somehow turned their duo into a trio. Chase drifts between their group and a few others, but he always ends up finding them eventually.

"Sup, boys," Chase says brightly, then nods at Georgia. "And girl."

Georgia offers a small smile. "Boy."

"How late did you guys stay up after I hopped off?" Chase asks.

"A few hours. We got bored without you playing," Troy says.

"We literally got so far into the run. Why'd you leave us hanging?" Wyatt adds.

"Aww, you guys missed me." Chase grins. "Maybe if someone let me come over, I wouldn't get yelled at by my parents." He shoots Troy a look.

"One of you over is enough," Troy says with a laugh.

Chase clutches his chest dramatically. "That hurts. Right here."

They laugh.

"Anyway, I'm heading to the gym to ball with the boys before the rally. See ya!"

He jogs off toward the courts, already calling out to someone across the yard.

Georgia watches him disappear into the crowd.

"He's so..." she mutters.

"Hyper," Wyatt finishes.

Troy snorts, and the two of them shake their heads as they keep walking toward the doors.

Wyatt suddenly picks up his pace beside Troy and Georgia, a little extra energy in his step.

They both glance at each other before turning back to stare at him like he's lost his mind.

"Now what's up with you?" Troy asks.

Wyatt notices their identical expressions and smirks. "Wow. Are you sure you two aren't actually siblings? Because you look exactly the same right now."

Georgia laughs and relaxes her face while Troy nudges Wyatt with his shoulder.

"No, seriously," Troy says. "Why are you so excited all of a sudden?"

Wyatt grins. "Because... look that way."

Before Troy can react, Wyatt grabs his head and turns it toward Jenny.

She's standing near the courtyard with a few friends.

Troy quickly looks away again.

Wyatt wiggles his eyebrows. "C'mon, bro. This is your moment."

Troy nudges him back. "Alright, chill," he mutters, sneaking another glance to see if she noticed.

Wyatt smirks. He's always considered himself Troy's wingman—though embarrassing him is usually part of the job.

Georgia watches the exchange with an amused smile.

"Have you talked to her at all since last time?" she asks.

Before Troy can answer, Wyatt jumps in.

"Nope."

Troy shoots him a look. "You don't know that."

"Sure I do," Wyatt says. "Read it in your diary."

"What? I don't have a diary!"

Georgia joins in immediately. "Yeah, that blue notebook you're always carrying? I read it too."

Troy groans. "Those are notes for—okay, yeah, very funny."

He stops mid-sentence, realizing there's no winning this one.

"Just walk over there and say good morning!" Wyatt says.

Before Troy can object, Wyatt shoves him forward.

A little too hard.

Troy stumbles and drops everything he's carrying across the sidewalk. The running shoes hanging around his neck slip loose and smack against the concrete, scuffing slightly.

"Oops..." Wyatt mutters.

Georgia immediately steps around the mess. "This is where I keep walking."

She disappears into the crowd without another word.

Troy sighs as he kneels to gather his things.

He glances up.

Jenny definitely saw that.

Perfect.

The first thing he grabs are his running shoes. He rubs at the fresh scuff along the side, but the mark doesn't budge.

Wyatt crouches beside him to help pick everything up.

Troy shoots him a glare. "And to think I was going to let you have my bed next time you stayed over."

Wyatt's face drops. "Wait—seriously?"

"Not if you don't carry these for me."

Troy piles several books into Wyatt's arms, slings his bag over his shoulder, and grabs his running shoes by their laces before speeding off down the sidewalk in a fast walk.

Wyatt watches him for a second before breaking into a run to catch up.

"Bro, I was just trying to help!"

Jenny Collins

Jenny watches Troy and Wyatt disappear through the school doors.

She can't help smiling.

Troy dropping everything and scrambling to pick it up in front of half the courtyard should have been embarrassing.

Instead... it was kind of adorable.

A faint blush creeps onto her cheeks before she quickly looks away.

"Wow," a voice says beside her. "Those two are such dorks."

Jenny glances over.

Faye Ramsey walks beside her, already scrolling through her phone, her manicured nails tapping rapidly against the screen.

Jenny had known Faye since kindergarten—the first friend she ever made, the one who used to scare off the kids who picked on her.

"Why am I forced to spend all day in a building with people like that?" Faye scoffs.

Jenny rolls her eyes. "Stop. They're actually kind of cute."

Faye slowly looks up.

A smirk spreads across her face.

"You mean Troy's actually cute."

Jenny freezes. "What?"

"Oh please." Faye tilts her head, studying her. "You literally get shy every time he's around."

Jenny looks away, trying—and failing—to act casual.

"If he won't say anything," Faye continues, "maybe you should. Or should I do it for you?"

Jenny quickly shakes her head.

"No. That's fine," she says, adding a bit of snark. "I can say something myself. Thanks."

Faye laughs.

"Oh, I'd pay to see that."

The two girls head toward the front doors with the rest of the morning crowd.

Jenny steals one last glance down the hallway Troy disappeared into before following Faye inside.

They step into the building, weaving through the morning chaos—laughter, conversations, and students packed into every corner of the hallway.

Faye groans. "Why does everyone have to be so damn loud? It's literally seven in the morning. It's making this headache worse."

Jenny chuckles. "Let's head to the gym. The pep rally should start soon anyway."

"Sure. Do you have any ibuprofen? My cramps are literally killing me." Faye groans.

Jenny rummages through her bag. "Um... I don't. We can ask Claire or Peyton if we see them."

Faye makes a face. "Claire? Yeah... you can ask her for me." She rolls her eyes.

Jenny smirks. "I will."

They enter the gym and toss their bags onto the bleachers.

Across the court, Claire and Shelby sit together, heads close as they talk. When they spot Jenny, they wave.

Their expressions barely change when they notice Faye.

Faye doesn't even look their way.

Instead, she drifts over to Peyton near the opposite side of the bleachers while Jenny walks toward Claire and Shelby.

"Hey," Jenny says. "Do either of you have ibuprofen?"

Shelby checks her bag, then shakes her head. "Sorry, Jen. I don't think I do."

"I do," Claire says, "but my bag's in the locker room. I'll grab it for you in a few."

"Yeah, that's fine! Are you guys ready for this week's game?" Jenny asks with a smile.

Shelby groans, then laughs. "I am—but I'm still terrified of flying. Every time Peyton and the girls throw me up, I swear I'll never get used to it."

"You look great when you do it, though," Jenny reassures her.

Claire, who has been quiet until now, scoffs softly.

"Wish someone else thought that," she mutters, her eyes flicking toward Faye across the gym.

Then she looks back at Jenny.

"Be honest," Claire says. "How do you put up with her? She's so bitchy and for no reason sometimes."

Jenny pauses for a moment before answering.

"I like to think I'm a good listener," she says. "You know my mom's a therapist, so I kind of grew up hearing how she talks to people. Faye can come off that way, but she's got walls up. She's not as bad as she seems."

Claire snorts. "Those walls must be made of diamonds, 'cause damn, that girl is hard to be around."

Shelby purses her lips and stays quiet, fiddling with the strap of her bag.

"Well," Jenny says after a moment, "I'm going to go see what's up with Peyton. See you in a few."

Claire and Shelby wave as Jenny heads across the court.

Faye and Peyton stand near the bleachers, talking quietly.

"I could literally ruin his life if I wanted to," Faye mutters.

Peyton notices Jenny approaching and quickly cuts in. "Heyy."

Faye stops mid-sentence.

"Hey, Peyton," Jenny says as she joins them.

Peyton stands with the girls often enough, but she never quite feels like she belongs to either side of the group. Jenny and Faye usually stick together, while Claire and Shelby are inseparable.

Most days, Peyton feels like the extra person in both conversations.

She had run for cheer captain earlier in the year, but Faye ended up winning the spot. Since then, Peyton usually keeps her opinions to herself around her—smiling and laughing when expected, even when she doesn't always agree.

Still, being captain of the volleyball team makes up for it.

"Peyton doesn't have any. You ask those two?" Faye asks, rolling her eyes toward Claire and Shelby—mostly Claire.

"Claire has some," Jenny says. "Her bag's in the locker room though. She'll grab it for you in a bit."

"Ugh, I literally can't wait that long," Faye groans, dropping onto the bleachers.

"You can't wait a few minutes?" Jenny asks with a small smile.

Across the court, Claire and Shelby burst into laughter.

Faye looks up, quietly mocking their laughs under her breath before holding her head. "It's loud in here too," she mutters.

Peyton smirks, but quickly wipes it away when she notices Jenny doesn't laugh along.

Just then, a basketball comes flying toward them, nearly hitting Faye in the legs.

Jenny and Peyton jump as it smacks against the bleachers and bounces away.

Faye barely reacts. She just looks up and kicks the ball back onto the court.

"Jesus, Leon," Faye calls rubbing her temples, "that shit almost killed me."

Leon jogs over, throwing up his hands.

"My bad, my bad," he says, scooping up the ball.

"God, my head is killing me," Faye mutters.

Jenny glances toward the court as more students begin filling the bleachers.

The pep rally crowd is slowly building.

"Come on," Jenny says. "We should change before this place gets packed."

Faye groans but pushes herself off the bleachers.

"Fine. But if I die from cramps during this rally, I'm blaming you."

Jenny laughs as the two of them head toward the locker rooms.

Behind them, the gym continues to fill with students, voices echoing louder with every minute.

Leon James

Leon tosses the ball back toward the court where Gene, Wesley, and Chase are already waiting.

He is one of the wrestlers—tall, athletic, and moving with easy confidence.

"Alright, I'm out," he calls. "Need water."

"Soft," Gene shouts after him.

Leon just laughs and jogs toward the hallway outside the gym.

He stops at the water fountain, leaning down as the stream trickles.

That's when he pauses.

His gaze locks onto someone walking past the entrance.

Charlie.

Charlie King

She's juggling a backpack, a binder stuffed with papers, and a box of supplies as she walks past the hallway.

Trailing a few steps behind her is Kenny Park, a freshman from student council struggling with an armful of poster boards.

Leon straightens immediately.

He hesitates for half a second before jogging over.

"Whoa—here, let me help," he says, taking the box from Charlie before it can slip.

Charlie looks up, surprised for a moment, then smiles.

"Thank you."

"No problem," Leon says, adjusting his grip. "What's all this for?"

"The pep rally," she replies with a small sigh. "Student council decided we needed decorations, and yearbook wants photos of everything."

Kenny shifts the posters in his arms.

"Also the banners," he adds quietly.

Charlie nods. "And the banners."

Leon chuckles. "Sounds like a lot."

"It is," Charlie admits.

They walk down the hallway together, the noise from the gym echoing through the building as the rally crowd grows louder.

After a moment, the main office comes into view.

Charlie pushes the door open, letting Kenny step inside first while Leon follows with the box.

"Good morning!" the receptionist greets cheerfully.

Her eyes land on Leon and she raises a brow.

"Leon James... on student council now?"

Leon laughs awkwardly.

"Oh—no, just helping carry stuff."

Charlie takes the box back from him.

"Thanks again," she says, already turning toward the flex room. Kenny trails behind her.

Leon holds the door open for them.

For a moment, he considers saying something—anything to keep the conversation going.

But the words never quite come.

The door swings shut.

Leon exhales and presses his fist lightly against his forehead.

"You should've asked her," he mutters to himself.

As he turns to leave, he notices a few familiar faces sitting near the front desk.

Fred Smith

Fred is there, hunched forward in his chair. Even sitting down, he looks massive—broad shoulders, thick arms, built like someone who could run through a wall if he felt like it.

Beside him sit Shiloh and Alec.

Alec leans back in his chair, adjusting the beanie on his head.

"You think we're getting suspended?" Alec asks.

Shiloh snorts from the chair beside them, lazily tugging at the lace on her boot.

"Yeah, Alec. They dragged us in here bright and early on Monday just to suspend us immediately," she says dryly. "That makes total sense."

Alec rolls his eyes. "You know what I mean."

Fred's leg bounces nervously.

"Be glad they didn't already," he mutters. "One more screw-up and I'm repeating senior year."

Shiloh glances over at him.

"Relax, big guy. Nobody wants that."

Alec looks around the room.

"Wait... isn't Nico supposed to be here?"

Shiloh shrugs.

"Couldn't wake him up."

Before anyone can say anything else, the receptionist looks up from the front desk.

"You three," she says, pointing toward the hallway. "Principal Hal will meet with you after the pep rally. Go ahead and head to the gym."

Shiloh immediately stands. What a waste of time.

Fred exhales in relief as he pushes himself out of the chair.

Alec grabs his backpack, and the three of them head down the hallway toward the growing noise of the rally crowd in the gym.

The Gymnasium

Upon reaching the gym, Fred and Alec walk inside while Shiloh slowly trails behind them. She nearly bumps into Georgia and stops short.

"Sorry. Go ahead."

Shiloh gestures for her to move first.

Georgia smirks slightly before stepping inside.

She makes her way toward the coach's office, her eyes drifting across students she recognizes from her work-study. When she reaches the door, she slips inside and grabs the strap of her duffel bag.

She places it in one of the lockers.

She's allowed to bring her bow to school, but it has to stay locked inside the coach's office—only used during hunter safety or archery practice.

As she heads back out, she passes the locker room where Jenny rushes between a mirror and her locker.

Jenny stuffs a brush into her bag and shoves it into the cramped locker just as Claire steps inside, Shelby and Peyton right behind her.

Claire walks to her locker and digs through her bag before pulling out a bottle of ibuprofen.

"Here, Jen," she says, tossing it over.

Jenny spins around and catches it.

"Thank you!"

She shakes two pills into her hand before tossing the bottle back.

Turning toward Faye, she grins.

"I have a present for you," she teases, holding up the pills.

"Oh my God, my angel," Faye says, snatching them.

She throws the pills onto her tongue and takes a quick sip from her water bottle.

Nearby, Shelby rushes over to Claire.

"Wait! Can't forget this!"

Claire turns just in time to see Shelby holding the bow that goes with her cheer uniform.

"Thank you!" Claire says, clipping it into the back of her hair.

Shelby steps closer and adjusts it slightly.

"Good?" Claire asks.

"Yup!" Shelby says proudly.

Across the locker room, Peyton sighs at her reflection.

She pulls out her ponytail and lets her hair fall down past her waist before gathering it again into a high ponytail. She secures it with a hair tie, then wraps a scrunchie around it for good measure.

"Your length is insane," Shelby says, tugging at the ends of her bob.

Faye glances at Peyton before quickly looking away, rolling her eyes.

"It probably takes like two hours to wash."

"Not really," Peyton shrugs.

"Whatever, long hair is annoying anyways," Faye says.

Peyton opens her eyes wide and looks off to the side.

Claire and Shelby head toward the door, and Peyton jogs after them.

Faye finishes applying mascara before pulling her hair back. 

"Your hair is so pretty. Mine is fried to the bone."

Jenny smirks. "It's not that bad."

Faye lets her hair fall and lifts the ends toward the mirror, showing the dry, damaged strands from too much heat.

"Fake," she says. "You're just saying that to be nice."

Jenny adjusts her cheer uniform as she speaks.

"You just need to trim the ends."

"Do it for me after school?" Faye asks, though it sounds more like a demand than a request.

"I will," Jenny says with a small smile.

She glances at her own reflection for a moment.

Her freshly cut side bangs frame her face, and she still isn't sure if she loves them or completely regrets them.

"And stop bleaching it," Jenny teases.

Faye rolls her eyes while tying her hair back.

"Wow, thank you. I totally forgot my roots look ugly."

From the gym down the hall, the band suddenly blasts a loud warm-up note.

Jenny glances toward the door.

"Alright, we better get into position."

"I guess," Faye mutters, slamming her locker shut.

Inside the gym, Troy and Wyatt have already claimed seats near the top of the bleachers, sitting side by side as students continue pouring in and out of the doors.

The noise of the growing crowd echoes through the gym.

Down on the court, the coach blows his whistle sharply.

"Wrap it up!" he shouts toward Leon, Gene, Chase, and Wesley.

The boys stop mid-game.

Chase grabs the basketball and jogs over to the bleachers, hopping up beside Troy with a thud.

Leon, Gene, and Wesley follow behind him, sliding into the seats on the other side.

"Did you guys see all the shit that's happening?" Chase asks Troy and Wyatt.

"What?" Troy says.

Wyatt shakes his head.

Chase leans forward, lowering his voice just enough to grab their attention.

"There's this post going around on Facebook. It's weird—there's a bunch of police surrounding that building in the middle of town."

"The lab building?" Wyatt says.

"Yeah."

Wyatt shrugs. "Something's definitely going down out there."

He nods toward Troy.

Troy frowns. "Show me."

Chase sets the basketball between his feet, pulls out his phone, and hands it over.

Troy scrolls through the post, his brow furrowing as he reads the comments.

"Look at this," he says, turning the screen so they can see.

Wyatt and Chase lean closer, scanning the flood of comments. Some people are talking about a chemical spill. Others are throwing out wilder theories.

"People are saying the EPA's there too," Troy adds.

Chase leans back slightly.

"What the hell is going on out there?"

He glances toward the gym doors, as if expecting someone to come running in with news.

Troy lingers on the thought for a moment before looking down toward the court.

He spots Georgia weaving through clusters of students as she makes her way toward the bleachers.

Near the edge of the gym floor, she nearly bumps into someone standing in her path.

Mrs. Mitchell.

The teacher turns, already wearing the warm smile she seems to greet everyone with.

"Good morning, Georgia," she says.

Georgia gives a faint smile.

"Morning."

Mrs. Sonya Mitchell is one of the younger teachers at the school, her coiled hair tied neatly back and a soft cardigan draped over her shoulders. Students often describe her as sweet—almost motherly—and she has a way of getting people to talk even when they don't mean to.

Even Georgia sometimes catches herself saying more than she planned around her.

Mrs. Mitchell glances toward the packed bleachers and the band warming up across the gym.

"Looks like the whole school showed up today," she says.

Georgia follows her gaze across the crowded gym.

"Yeah."

Mrs. Mitchell smiles again before motioning toward the bleachers.

"Go grab a seat before they fill up."

Georgia nods once and continues up the steps.

She drops into the seat beside Wyatt, giving him and Troy a small smile before tucking her hands into her pockets and leaning back against the wall.

Fred, Shiloh, and Alec drop into the same row as Troy and the others, but at the opposite end of the bleachers near the corner.

Fred leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he watches the field below.

He already knows what this rally is about.

Wednesday's football game.

A game he should've been playing in.

Before the concussion.

The hit had been bad enough that the coaches practically forced him to quit the team. Fred hadn't taken it well. Sitting around had only made things worse.

He'd started smoking more.

Wrestling was the only thing that managed to slow that down. The coach let him join a few weeks ago—even though he kept warning Fred to take it easy.

But Fred had never been good at sitting still.

He needed somewhere to burn off the tension building inside him.

His leg bounces rapidly, rattling the metal bleachers.

Shiloh glances over at him. "You good?"

"I'm fine," Fred says, rubbing the side of his head before looking back out at the court.

Shiloh watches him for a moment.

Did he take his meds today?

She's not about to ask that in front of everyone.

Her phone vibrates in her hand.

Nico.

She opens the message.

"dad already slammed half a case"

Shiloh lets out a quiet laugh under her breath.

Of course he does.

Their dad's been like that for years—drunk before noon if nobody stops him.

Nico had stayed home this morning to deal with it. Again.

She types back quickly.

"i told you it'd be a waste of time just come to school"

Shiloh leans back against the bleachers, slipping her phone into her pocket.

It's always been the two of them.

Ever since their mom died, Nico's been the one keeping things together—working odd jobs, dealing with their dad, making sure Shiloh didn't have to handle it alone.

She hates that he still tries.

But at the same time...

she gets it.

She turns as laughter erupts from a group of boys nearby.

Leon, Gene, and Wesley are doubled over as Chase cracks another joke.

"Alright, alright..." Wesley says, catching his breath. "Lunch. We finish then?"

They all nod.

"But please give me Leon," Gene pleads dramatically.

"Not happening bro," Wesley says, patting Gene on the shoulder.

"Yo, what's wrong with me!?" Chase asks, sounding offended.

"You're trash, bro," Wesley cuts in before Gene can answer.

"I am not!" Chase squeaks.

They all laugh.

Leon shakes his head, grinning. "Fine. Rematch. Me and Chase against you and Gene."

"Ohh, y'all are gonna get packed up!" Chase blurts.

"We'll see," Wesley says, already fired up.

Leon laughs with them, but his attention drifts toward the gym doors.

Charlie walks in with Kenny and Gary.

She moves quickly, focused, like she's running the entire operation herself.

For a moment, the noise around him fades.

Charlie always looks put together in a way most people at school don't even try to be — pleated skirt, oversized sweatshirt, clean sneakers. Simple, but somehow still perfectly styled.

Leon swallows, quickly looking away before anyone notices he's staring.

Charlie balances a stack of folders against her hip while helping Kenny unfold the table.

She's already halfway through a checklist on her clipboard before the rally even starts.

Yearbook deadlines don't care about pep rallies.

"Take as many as you can get," she tells Gary. "We barely have any photos yet."

Gary gives her a quick thumbs-up.

He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and squints down at the camera screen, tapping through the settings until it finally looks right.

Charlie smooths the signup sheets across the table, straightening them even though they're already neat.

She recognizes half the students walking into the gym—club members, student council volunteers, people she's worked with on something or other.

Plenty of acquaintances.

Not many actual friends.

Across the bleachers, Shiloh leans forward slightly, her eyes drifting toward the student council table.

She spots Gary adjusting the camera around his neck.

Her expression tightens.

"Well, look who it is," she mutters.

Alec follows her gaze. "Who?"

Shiloh tilts her head toward the table. "Camera kid."

Fred glances over.

Gary stands near the table, fiddling with the lens while Charlie organizes papers beside him.

Fred recognizes him immediately.

The same kid who walked straight to the assistant principal after catching them smoking in the baseball dugout on Friday.

Fred's jaw tightens.

"That little snitch," Alec mutters under his breath.

Shiloh smirks faintly. "Guy acts like he's part of the damn investigation team."

Gary keeps adjusting the camera, completely unaware the three of them are watching from the bleachers.

Fred leans back against the seat.

"Doesn't matter," Shiloh says quietly. "We're already getting ISS for it."

Alec scoffs. "Still."

Fred doesn't answer.

He just watches Gary for another moment before finally looking away.

Suddenly the band blasts a loud chord from the far side of the gym.

Conversations drop to a dull roar as students stand and turn toward the court.

Cheerleaders run out first, Faye at the front with Jenny right behind her. Peyton, Claire, Shelby, and several more girls follow close behind.

The squad spreads into formation as the band roars to life.

The drumline pounds through the gym, rattling the metal bleachers beneath the crowd. Students begin cheering and stomping their feet.

Faye lifts her arms with the rest of the squad, but the usual bright smile she wears for performances barely reaches her face.

From the bleachers, Troy watches Jenny with a small smile.

Wyatt notices immediately. He smirks, nudging Troy with his elbow and giving him a wink.

Troy rolls his eyes but can't help smiling.

Camera flashes flicker across the gym as Gary snaps photos from the sidelines. He turns the lens toward Charlie for a moment. She gives a quick nod, motioning for him to keep going.

Down on the court, Peyton and Claire step into position as bases while another cheerleader joins them. Shelby moves between them, preparing for the stunt.

"Ready!" one of the girls calls.

The bases dip and launch Shelby into the air.

She shoots upward in a clean basket toss, flipping once before dropping back down into their waiting arms. The bases catch her in a cradle as the crowd erupts.

Two more stunt groups pop up on the other side of the court.

 The crowd erupts in cheers and stomping feet.

Shiloh rolls her eyes and leans toward Alec.

 "This is so corny..."

Alec laughs but keeps his eyes on the court, pretending to be interested.

The cheerleaders settle as the band begins to slow.

The crowd quiets slightly as Principal Hal makes his way toward the middle of the court.

Mrs. Mitchell and the coach step in beside him, setting up a microphone stand.

Principal Hal taps the microphone. It squeals briefly before he clears his throat.

"Good morning, Cram Academy!" he calls, attempting his most energetic voice.

Shiloh snorts. "He couldn't sound any less excited."

Alec nudges her. "Sounds like you."

"Oh my god—" Shiloh grabs his arm. "I sound like that?"

Alec bursts out laughing.

"Let's give a hand for our cheerleaders."

Principal Hal claps awkwardly while trying to hold onto the sheet of paper in his other hand. The crowd joins in.

Jenny, Peyton, and Shelby bounce excitedly, doing a quick celebratory dance. Claire waves to the crowd while Faye sits fanning herself dramatically, her expression showing little appreciation.

"And for the band."

The crowd claps again.

Hal glances down at his paper before looking back up.

"Another exciting week for us here at Cram Academy," he says. "Before we get started, just a few quick reminders."

He glances down at the paper in his hand.

"Student council will be hosting our fall community service day this Friday. If you're interested in volunteering, you can sign up right now at the table over there."

He gestures toward the side of the gym where Charlie, Kenny, and Gary sit behind their sign-up sheets.

"Or you can stop by during lunch if you need more information."

A few students glance over at the table.

"And a reminder for seniors — college application workshops will be held after school in the library all week."

Someone in the back groans loudly, earning a few laughs from the crowd.

Principal Hal smiles awkwardly before continuing.

"We've also got our fall art showcase coming up this Thursday evening in the auxiliary gym across campus. Be sure to stop by and support the incredible work our students have been putting together."

He clears his throat and straightens the paper.

"Now, we've got a big game coming up Wednesday! Let's get one more round of applause for our team!"

Right on cue, the gym doors swing open and the football team runs out, each wearing their jerseys. They jog across the court before lining up behind Principal Hal.

The crowd lights up, cheers echoing through the gym.

From the bleachers, Fred watches them run out onto the court.

His jaw tightens slightly.

That should've been him down there.

The concussion ended that before the season even really started.

Now he just sits in the stands while everyone else cheers.

Faye's eyes immediately lock onto one of the players as he passes by. He flashes a quick smile and nods at her before turning back to the team.

Faye scoffs quietly, crossing her arms before turning and heading toward the locker rooms.

Jenny notices her slipping away.

Down on the court, Hal adjusts the microphone again, glancing down at the paper in his hand.

"Let's hear it for your Cram Academy football team!" he calls.

The crowd erupts once more.

Hal waits for the noise to settle before continuing.

"These guys have been putting in the work all season, and this Wednesday they're taking on Riverside in what's shaping up to be one of the biggest games of the year."

He gestures toward the players behind him.

"So let's make sure we show up, pack those stands, and give them the support they deserve!"

The crowd erupts again, cheers echoing through the gym as the band blasts a final upbeat chord.

Hal steps back from the microphone, nodding to the coach as the noise slowly begins to fade.

"Alright, that's all for today," he says, raising a hand toward the bleachers. "Let's get to class."

Almost on cue, the bell rings—signaling the end of what would have been first period.

The gym immediately dissolves into chatter as students begin filing toward the exits.

Troy stands, slinging his bag over his shoulder as the bleachers begin to empty.

Beside him, Wyatt grabs his backpack and hops down a step.

Georgia is already on her feet.

She slips past the crowd and heads toward the exit before most students even start moving.

Across the court, Leon, Gene, Wesley, and Chase climb down from the bleachers together.

Chase bounces the basketball once against the gym floor as they walk.

"Don't lose that before lunch," Wesley says.

Chase grins, spinning the ball on his finger before catching it.

"Relax. I'm about to cook you guys at lunch."

As they near the exit, Chase suddenly stops and looks toward the far hoop.

"Oh hold up."

Before anyone can react, he launches the ball from near half court.

The shot arcs across the gym—

and sails completely past the hoop.

Gene bursts out laughing.

"Not even close!"

Chase throws his hands up. "Alright, alright—warm-up shot!"

The ball bounces across the floor toward the far wall.

"Ah, damn it!" Chase says, jogging after it.

Leon and Wesley laugh while Gene shakes his head, watching Chase chase the ball across the gym.

Fred stands from the opposite end of the row, his movement slow but heavy.

Shiloh and Alec fall in beside him as the three of them move toward the aisle together.

Fred's leg still bounces with leftover tension as they join the flow of students heading for the doors.

Near the student council table, Charlie quickly gathers the papers spread across the surface.

Kenny stacks the poster boards under his arm while Gary carefully lowers his camera and begins packing it into his bag.

Students stream past them toward the exits as the noise of the gym slowly spills out into the hallway.

Meanwhile, Jenny hurries toward the locker rooms.

Behind her, Claire, Shelby, and Peyton drift toward the gym doors instead.

None of them bother changing right away. Sometimes they like wearing their cheer uniforms around school after a rally.

Claire reaches back, adjusting the bow clipped neatly into her hair while Peyton slings her bag over her shoulder.

"Lunch better be good today," Shelby mutters.

Claire laughs as the three of them head into the hallway with the rest of the crowd.

Jenny pushes through the locker room doors and steps inside.

The room is mostly empty now, the noise of the rally fading behind her.

She turns the corner and spots Faye sitting alone on a bench.

"Hey..." Jenny says softly. "You okay?"

"He's an asshole," Faye mutters.

Jenny frowns. "What? Who?"

"Xavier." Faye scoffs, almost gagging at the name.

"Oh..." Jenny says slowly. "What'd he do?"

She moves over and sits beside her.

Faye sighs, rubbing her forehead. "We were sort of a thing. Probably for, like... three months?"

She pauses, thinking.

"But I stopped talking to him after we hooked up."

Jenny nods slowly. "Okay..."

"Because he ignored me for a week after that," Faye continues, irritation creeping into her voice. "And I was so pissed, I blocked him on everything and moved on."

Jenny stays quiet for a moment.

Xavier's been with Maddy for almost a year now, she thinks. And he was seeing Faye too?

"Then he wants to smile at me like everything's fine," Faye mutters. "Fuck off."

Jenny remains silent for a beat.

"Sorry I didn't tell you back then," Faye adds, glancing over at Jenny. "You can hate me now. It's fine. "

Jenny snorts. "As if."

She studies Faye for a moment, noticing the sweat forming along her hairline.

Jenny grabs a clean towel and hands it to her.

"You're like the last person to sweat," she says. "Are you getting sick?"

Faye shakes her head.

"I don't know. I hope not. I have a nail appointment tomorrow."

Jenny gives a small laugh. "Well, class is about to start. Let's get changed. We can talk more about it later tonight?"

Faye looks away.

"I really don't want to talk about it anymore," she says flatly.

Jenny nods, as both of them quietly change.

In the Halls - First Floor

Troy and Wyatt make their way toward the staircase. Both of them have English with Mrs. Mitchell, whose classroom sits on the second floor.

Students spill out of the gym and into the hallway, voices echoing off the lockers as the crowd spreads through the building.

Wyatt turns to Troy. "Jeez, man. I know you like her, but that was borderline obsession back there."

Troy glances at him, playing confused. "What are you talking about?"

"You couldn't peel your eyes off her," Wyatt says, holding his eyelids wide with his fingers.

Troy laughs. "Nah, man. I was just watching the performance."

Wyatt smirks. "The performance or the performer?"

"You suck," Troy teases.

A group of freshmen rushes past them toward the lockers, nearly bumping Wyatt's shoulder.

"Watch it," Wyatt mutters, stepping aside before turning back to Troy.

He shakes his head. "These freshmen, I tell ya."

Troy snorts. "You were literally one last year."

Wyatt shrugs. "Yeah, but I wasn't that bad."

He checks his watch. "Eh, we've got three minutes before the bell. Let's sit at the steps until Jenny walks past."

Troy rolls his eyes playfully, but honestly, he wouldn't mind.

"Bro, you're pathetic," Wyatt says with a grin.

"Says the guy planning my love life," Troy shoots back.

They weave through a couple more students before reaching the staircase and dropping onto the bottom steps.

Wyatt leans back against the railing, watching the hallway.

"Alright," he says. "Now we wait."

Georgia strides past them.

"Get to class," she says, teasing as she heads up the stairs. She's Mrs. Mitchell's assistant during this period.

Troy and Wyatt laugh, not taking her seriously.

Mrs. Mitchell's Classroom

At the top of the stairs, Georgia walks a short way down the hallway before arriving at the English classroom.

As she steps inside, she notices Gary already seated at a desk.

Wow, she thinks. That kid doesn't mess around. Wasn't he just in the gym?

Mrs. Mitchell steps out from the supply closet at the back of the room and smiles when she sees her.

"Good morning again, Georgia."

"Morning. Again," Georgia laughs slightly. "Anything I can help with?"

Mrs. Mitchell glances at the clock on the wall.

"No. Ask me again in three minutes."

"Well, I've got nothing better to do," Georgia says.

Mrs. Mitchell smiles softly. "You just relax until you're actually being paid to lift a finger."

Georgia smiles and moves to her usual seat beside Mrs. Mitchell's desk, a little farther ahead near the window.

"Did you enjoy the pep rally?" Mrs. Mitchell asks cheerfully.

Georgia turns to look at her. "Yeah. Yeah, it was nice," she says with a slight smile.

"There's so much talent in this building." Mrs. Mitchell gestures toward the hallway. "It makes me so happy to be a part of it."

Georgia nods in agreement before leaning back in the chair, resting against it as she gazes out the window.

Mrs. Mitchell's classroom sits along the front side of the building, its large windows overlooking the campus and the city beyond it.

Georgia sees this view every day, yet somehow she always finds herself getting lost in it.

But she's always liked the forests outside town a lot more.

The Office

Fred, Shiloh, and Alec make their way back inside the office. Right as they sit down, Principal Hal steps in.

"Alright, you three. With me."

They immediately stand back up.

He holds open the ISS room door, and the three of them slowly shuffle inside.

Once inside, Shiloh drops into a chair beside the boys. Principal Hal pulls out a list and adjusts his glasses, checking off names as he mutters to himself.

"Alec Grey, mhm. Nicolas Phillips, hmm. Shiloh Phillips—"

"Unfortunately," Shiloh says.

"Fred Smith," Principal Hal finishes.

He lowers the list and looks up.

"And where is your brother, Miss Phillips?"

"Sick," Shiloh says.

Principal Hal hums. "On the day he's supposed to face consequences. Convenient timing, huh?"

"Funny how things just work the way they do, right?" Shiloh shoots back.

"Speaking of work, I expect you all to finish these packets before the hour ends. Use this time wisely."

Principal Hal hands Alec three packets. Alec passes them to Fred and Shiloh.

"Phones," Principal Hal says, holding out his hand. "You know the rule."

Alec sighs and drops his phone onto the desk. Fred follows, setting his down with a quiet thud.

Shiloh hesitates for a moment before sliding hers across the desk toward him.

She flips open the packet. It's an informative sheet about the dangers and risks of smoking, complete with a cheerful little questionnaire at the end.

She lifts a brow, unimpressed, watching as Principal Hal steps out of the ISS room.

"I don't even have a pencil!" Shiloh yells after him.

But he either doesn't hear her—or doesn't care.

Across the ISS room, inside one of the flex rooms, Charlie and Kenny have settled in. The student council is allowed to use one period each week to work on projects together.

Charlie sketches a design onto a piece of paper. Her pencil kit sits perfectly upright beside her, each pencil sharpened to a fine point.

Kenny glances over. "Hey! That looks good—really good."

Charlie glances up at him. "Thanks," she says before returning to her sketch.

"So, it's just us two working on this—n-not that it's a problem," Kenny adds quickly. "I'm just wondering where everyone else is."

Charlie keeps sketching. "Olivia's sick. Tonya had an appointment today, and Gary would rather attend class."

"Oh. Okay," Kenny says.

A small silence settles between them.

"So... we have quite a lot to do then."

"Yeah," Charlie says softly.

The Stairway

Troy and Wyatt sit together on the steps, talking about random things while Troy keeps glancing up the hallway, expecting Jenny to appear around the corner any second.

Wyatt, whose idea this was in the first place, is already getting bored. He pulls out his Switch and starts playing Super Smash Bros. Ultimate.

Chase and the others appear at the end of the hall. Chase immediately jogs over to Wyatt, stepping up onto the next stair and leaning in to watch the screen.

"Jesus, how are you so good at whooping everyone's ass at this game?" Chase asks.

"Skill," Wyatt says, focused on the match as he fights some random online opponent.

"I brought mine today too!" Chase says excitedly. "It might be dead though."

Troy scoffs. "Do you ever remember to charge it?"

Leon, Gene, and Wesley finally catch up and start heading up the stairs, but they stop when they see the game.

They linger behind Chase, watching as Wyatt finishes the match.

A second later, Wyatt's character lands the final hit.

"Let's go," Wyatt mutters as the victory screen pops up.

Leon leans over Wyatt's shoulder. "You should start a tournament," he jokes. "It'd be in your favor. You'd win."

Wyatt and Troy laugh.

"That's not a bad idea," Wyatt says. "Five-dollar buy-in. Winner takes all."

"You could buy lunch for me then." Leon smirks, tapping Wyatt on the back.

Wesley and Gene laugh, Gene adding, "Yeah, us too!"

As Leon steps back, Troy catches a whiff of his cologne.

He subtly lifts his arm and sniffs.

Did I even put deodorant on today?

"Alright, I'm heading up," Leon says, turning and moving up the stairs.

Wesley and Gene instinctively follow behind him. Chase hangs back watching the screen for a moment before saying, "Yeah, I'll see you guys up there."

Troy nods as Wyatt replies, "Yup..." his eyes still glued to the screen.

Chase bounds up the stairs after them, practically climbing the steps two at a time.

A second later, Troy straightens and taps Wyatt's shoulder.

"Dude, put it away."

Wyatt looks up at him before following his gaze.

There she is.

Jenny.

Wyatt rolls his eyes and powers down his Switch. "What's wrong with me having it out?"

He slips it into its case and stuffs it into his bag.

"It's... dorky," Troy whispers.

"Dorky?" Wyatt scoffs. "I bet she has a Switch of her own."

"Shh," Troy says quickly.

Claire, Shelby, and Peyton move past them first, heading upstairs.

As Jenny gets closer, Troy grows a little more anxious. Pretending to be busy, he starts scrolling through his phone.

Wyatt glances up and throws his arms in the air.

Then Troy looks up just in time to see Jenny and Faye turn and head into the bathroom.

Troy drops his arm, gripping his phone tightly as he groans.

"Welp," Wyatt says flatly.

Troy doesn't answer. He just stands and starts heading up the stairs.

"Hey! Wait up!" Wyatt yells, grabbing his bag from his lap and tossing it over one shoulder.

The Classroom

Troy and Wyatt slip into the classroom just as the bell rings.

Mrs. Mitchell's class is already half full. Unlike most teachers, she lets students sit wherever they want. Over time, the room has settled into its own unofficial seating chart.

In the front row, Claire and Shelby sit near the windows while Gary occupies the desk beside them.

Behind them in the second row, Jenny, Faye, and Peyton usually take the middle seats together.

The third row belongs to Troy, Wyatt, and Chase.

And in the back row, Leon, Gene, and Wesley spread out across the desks near the wall.

Troy drops into his seat beside Wyatt while Chase slides into the chair on his other side.

A few seconds after the bell rings, the classroom door opens again.

Jenny and Faye stroll in.

Mrs. Mitchell glances up briefly but doesn't say anything. They're only a few seconds late.

Jenny slips into her seat beside Peyton while Faye drops into the chair next to her, already pulling her phone out of her hoodie pocket.

Mrs. Mitchell steps to the front of the room, her usual warm smile in place.

"Good morning, everyone. Welcome back to another week."

She picks up the attendance sheet and glances down.

"Let's see who we've got today."

"Gary?"

Gary straightens in his chair and raises a hand. "Present."

Mrs. Mitchell makes a small note before continuing.

"Wyatt?"

Wyatt leans back in his chair, spinning a pencil between his fingers. "Yo."

"Jenny?"

Jenny tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and glances up from her notebook. "Here."

"Leon?"

Leon sits back in his chair with his arms crossed over his hoodie. "I'm here."

"Chase?"

Mrs. Mitchell pauses.

Chase is leaning toward Wesley, whispering something that makes them both laugh.

"Chase."

Chase jerks upright. "Oh! Right here, right here—sorry, Sonya!"

Mrs. Mitchell raises a brow.

"Hey. It's Mrs. Mitchell while we're at school, yeah?"

Chase nods quickly. "Right."

"Claire?"

Claire lifts her eyes from the page she's already started writing on. "Here."

"Gene?"

Gene raises a hand while tearing into a muffin he definitely didn't buy from the cafeteria.

"Faye?"

"Yeah," Faye mutters, barely glancing up as her thumbs tap across her phone screen.

"Shelby?"

Shelby sits up straight and raises her hand high. "I'm here!"

"Troy?"

Troy clears his throat and lifts his hand slightly. "Here."

"Wesley?"

Wesley leans back in his chair, still grinning from whatever Chase said. "Yup."

"And... Peyton?"

Peyton closes the planner in front of her and nods.

"Here."

Rather than diving straight into the lesson, she takes a moment to chat with her students—something she always does.

"Did anything exciting happen this weekend?" she asks, leaning casually against her desk with genuine curiosity.

For a moment the room stays quiet.

Then a few voices start up.

"Volleyball tournament," Peyton says from the second row. "We won two out of three."

Leon nods from the back. "Wrestling meet Saturday. My shoulders still hurt."

Beside him, Gene lifts his head from his muffin and hums through a mouthful in agreement.

"Mm-hmm."

Mrs. Mitchell smiles. "Rough match?"

Gene just nods again, still chewing.

Shelby laughs. "Cheer practice for four hours. I think my arms might fall off."

Gene raises a hand while chewing his muffin. "I watched three seasons of Stranger Things in like... two days."

Mrs. Mitchell raises her eyebrows. "Three seasons?"

Gene shrugs. "It was a productive weekend."

A few students chuckle.

From the third row, Chase suddenly speaks up.

"I almost died yesterday."

The room goes quiet.

Mrs. Mitchell blinks. "I'm sorry—what?"

Chase spreads his hands dramatically.

"Bike ramp. Long story. But if I had gone like two inches to the left? Done. Over."

Wesley snorts.

"You fell into a bush."

The class bursts into laughter.

Chase points at him. "It was a dangerous bush."

Even Mrs. Mitchell laughs before shaking her head.

She glances toward the front row.

 "How about you, Gary?"

Gary looks up from his desk.

"Not really," he says. "The only exciting thing that happened was this morning. My bus had to take a different route—there was a whole block sectioned off."

Mrs. Mitchell tilts her head slightly.

"Oh?"

"Yeah," Gary shrugs. "There were police everywhere."

A few students glance at each other.

Mrs. Mitchell nods thoughtfully before straightening again.

"Well... hopefully everything is alright out there."

Mrs. Mitchell often loses track of time like this, getting caught up in conversations instead of strict lesson plans. She never minds, though—she cares about her students beyond just grades and assignments. Their well-being always comes first.

Faye sets her phone down with a thud before leaning back in her chair.

"Is your headache still there?" Jenny asks, noticing the shift.

"Yeah. And it's not getting any better," Faye grumbles. "Thank God I had this class right after the rally. Mrs. Mitchell is hands down the best teacher here—she'd let me nap if I wanted."

Across the room, Mrs. Mitchell hands a small packet of papers to Georgia.

"Here, Georgia—make a few copies of this, please."

Georgia takes the packet without a word and makes her way to the back of the classroom. A small closet space houses the copy machine, and she often finds herself tucked away there, away from the noise.

At his desk, Troy sits absentmindedly, his pen scratching lazy doodles into his notebook. His thoughts drift—nothing in particular, or at least that's what he'd tell himself.

Wyatt, ever the instigator, nudges him with an amused grin.

"Who are you thinking about?" he asks, keeping his voice low enough that only Troy can hear.

Then he tilts his chin toward the row in front of them, where Jenny sits, twirling a strand of hair around her finger.

Troy scoffs quietly, shaking his head.

"Knock it off, dude. I'm not always thinking about her."

That was a lie.

"Yo—when she started chasing us with that broom!" Wesley howls, holding up his phone to replay the video of them sprinting away after pulling a prank on some random stranger.

"Man, you should've held the camera still," Leon says, shaking his head.

Gene scoffs. "Okay, next time you can record, and I'll be at home."

That earns another round of laughter.

Wesley grins, rewinding the clip.

"Look at Leon!" he says, turning the screen toward them. "Acting like he doesn't know what happened—look at his face!"

Leon smirks. "I had to play dumb. I wasn't about to get caught up."

Their laughter carries across the room until Mrs. Mitchell's voice cuts through the chatter like a warm but firm breeze.

At the back of the classroom, Georgia stands beside the copy machine while it hums and spits out the last few pages of the packet.

Peyton turns sideways in her seat, trying to hold a conversation with Faye.

"Did you see the dress Olivia posted last night?" she asks.

Faye barely lifts her head.

"No," she mutters, rubbing her forehead.

She shifts in her seat before turning toward the back of the room.

"Hey—you," she calls quietly toward Georgia. "Can you grab a blanket from in there?"

Georgia glances over.

Without saying much, she steps toward a small hamper tucked beside the shelves and digs through it for a moment before pulling out one of the soft blankets Mrs. Mitchell keeps for students who aren't feeling well.

She carries it over and hands it to Faye.

"Thanks," Faye mutters, pulling the blanket around her shoulders as she sinks lower into her chair.

Georgia nods once before heading back toward the copy machine at the rear of the classroom.

Meanwhile, Jenny reaches into her bag and pulls out a brush. She runs it through her dark hair before gathering it into a tight ponytail. Her compact mirror catches the light as she adjusts the strands around her face.

Behind her, Troy finds himself watching her, momentarily lost in thought.

A small smile tugs at Jenny's lips as she notices him in the reflection.

At the back of the room, the copy machine finishes with a final whir.

Georgia gathers the neatly printed stack of packets and starts toward the front of the classroom.

As she passes Troy's desk, she snaps her fingers in front of his face.

Troy blinks.

Georgia smirks and keeps walking.

In the row ahead of him, Jenny quietly snaps her mirror shut and slips it back into her bag.

Georgia reaches the front of the room and hands the stack to Mrs. Mitchell.

Peyton, Claire, and Shelby are still caught up in their conversation when Mrs. Mitchell's voice cuts in, calm but firm.

"Ladies, please, let's settle in now."

"Sorry!" Shelby squeaks, instantly tensing up.

Mrs. Mitchell gives her a knowing smile before turning back toward the class.

"Alright, alright! Enough chit-chat—let's get this ball rolling!" she calls, her usual enthusiasm intact.

She begins passing the packets out, signaling the start of the lesson.

Fifteen minutes pass, and Mrs. Mitchell is now in the middle of a lecture.

"...and that's why themes in literature tend to repeat throughout history," Mrs. Mitchell explains, gesturing animatedly as she speaks. "Take The Odyssey, for example—one of the oldest recorded stories in Western literature. A hero faces trials, struggles against fate, and after a long journey, he finally returns home. Now compare that to modern stories—movies, books, even video games. How many times do we see a protagonist set off on a dangerous path, only to fight their way back to where they started, changed forever?"

She leans against her desk, scanning the room.

"That's because storytelling is timeless. We might change the setting, the stakes, the characters, but at its core humanity keeps telling the same stories over and over. It's how we process our world, our struggles, and—"

The loudspeaker crackles overhead, cutting her off.

Everyone's head turns toward the intercom.

Mrs. Mitchell pauses, frowning slightly before recovering with a small smile.

"Well, I suppose we're about to be interrupted. Let's see what this is about."

The speaker crackles again.

 "Students and faculty, please remain in your classrooms. We have received word that a precautionary lockdown may be initiated. Please remain calm and await further instructions."

A murmur spreads through the classroom as students exchange uneasy glances.

"Wait... what?" Shelby whispers.

"Is this a drill?" Peyton asks, glancing around the room.

Leon shifts in his seat. "They don't usually announce drills like that."

Chase leans back in his chair. "Maybe someone pulled the fire alarm again."

Gene shrugs. "Or somebody brought a raccoon into the building."

"That happened once," Wyatt mutters.

Claire frowns toward the front of the room. "Did she say may be initiated?"

"Yeah," Troy says quietly. "That's weird."

Lockdowns aren't unheard of, but something about the receptionist's tone feels... off.

Near the window, Georgia barely registers the announcement.

Her eyes are fixed on something outside.

Smoke.

Thick, dark plumes billow up from a building in the center of town, rising like a storm cloud against the skyline.

Her breath catches in her throat.

That isn't normal.

That isn't right.

Then it happens.

A deafening, earth-shattering explosion rips through the air. The thunderclap hits like a punch to the chest, reverberating through the classroom.

The windows begin to rattle violently—

—and then the shockwave reaches the school.

The windows facing the city explode inward.

Shards of glass spray across desks and floors as students scream. The blast rattles the walls, the ceiling lights flickering as the building shudders.

Several students instinctively dive under their desks, covering their heads. Others sit frozen, stunned into silence.

Georgia flinches, bracing herself against the edge of her desk.

When the ringing in her ears finally begins to fade, she slowly lifts her head.

Beyond the ruined windows, the city is burning.

Flames claw into the sky as thick columns of smoke swallow entire blocks of buildings. In the distance, sirens wail and voices shout in panic—faint, but growing louder.

The school intercom cuts off mid-static.

For a moment, nothing moves.

Just an eerie, suffocating silence hanging over the room.

Then—

chaos.