Chapter 8
Silicon Seeds
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Winslow High School, Homeroom
Friday, November 28th, 2008
7:54 AM…
Taylor Hebert wasn't used to waking up with questions she wanted answers to.
Most mornings were a countdown. Alarm. Bus. Locker. Avoid eye contact. Check the floor for anything slippery, broken, or purposefully spilled. Then sit in homeroom and pretend not to notice Emma laughing two rows behind her.
But today felt… off.
Not better. Not even safe. Just… wrong in a way she couldn't name yet.
She sat at her usual desk—second row from the back, by the window. Journal open. Pen tapping slowly against the corner. Morning light filtered through the dirty glass in slanted beams, catching dust motes in its grip. The classroom buzzed softly with pre-bell chatter, gum wrappers crinkling, and the occasional throat-clearing cough.
Her gaze dropped back to the page in front of her. Half-filled. Disjointed thoughts masquerading as notes.
Alessa Dawson moved too fast.
She could still feel it—the pull of gravity, the blur of motion, the moment her foot slipped on something too smooth to be natural. That old stairwell had seen its share of falls, but not like this. Not with soap.
She'd been sure she was going to die. Or at least break something important.
But then Alessa had moved.
No shout. No panic. Just a hand snapping out like a steel cable. Grip tight, grounding her instantly. It hadn't been messy or accidental. It'd been exact. Precise in a way that normal people didn't do. Certainly not someone who walked with a cane.
Taylor flipped back a page in her journal. Alessa barely had any mentions before yesterday. She was background noise. A shadow in a hoodie. There'd been whispers about her house, something about an explosion, maybe a gas leak. Taylor had written it off. Everyone in Winslow had some kind of drama.
But now?
Now she had questions.
And not just about Alessa, especially after their little chats yesterday.
Her eyes flicked to the front of the room where Emma was whispering something to Madison, their laughter just a little too tight, a little too sharp. Sophia wasn't there yet which wasn't unusual, but still worth noting. Emma didn't glance Taylor's way, but her hand tugged at her hair twice in quick succession. Nervous tic.
Taylor's eyes narrowed.
Something's wrong.
Mr. Landon shuffled in two minutes before the bell with his usual disheveled look that included gray slacks, loose tie, and the permanent aura of someone who'd stopped caring about teenagers sometime before the Bush administration. He gave the class a nod without really looking at anyone and set a stack of ungraded papers on the desk with a heavy thump.
Taylor didn't bother greeting him. No one did. Homeroom was the ghost period. Just enough time to stew in your thoughts before the day officially started.
Emma hadn't stopped whispering to Madison since they'd arrived, but their usual venom was muted. Quieter. Taylor's instincts prickled. It wasn't that they weren't planning something, it was that whatever they were planning had more tension than bite.
She risked another glance toward the back corner.
Alessa was sitting motionless, hands resting atop her backpack like she was half-listening to Alice ramble about something. Her posture was relaxed, but there was a weight to her stillness. Like a coiled spring waiting for the right pressure.
Madison glanced toward them once. Just once. Quick. Almost too fast to notice.
And then—thwip.
Taylor caught it in the periphery. A wad of paper arcing across the classroom in a practiced, low-effort arc. She followed it mid-flight.
Alessa caught it without even looking.
Two fingers. Effortless. Her hand snapped up, caught the spitball in the air, and held it like it was nothing more than a passing annoyance. Then she turned her head, slowly, and locked eyes with Madison.
Taylor froze as she watched the silent exchange.
There was no anger in Alessa's expression. No smugness. Just a flat, unimpressed stare that held far too much weight for a girl her age.
Madison blinked. Looked away. Quickly.
Taylor's gut twisted.
That wasn't normal.
That was practiced.
Across from Alessa, Alice didn't react like anything strange had happened. She just reached over, plucked the spitball from Alessa's fingers, and flicked it into the trash bin beside her chair with a flick of her wrist, and a look of exaggerated boredom. No words. No confrontation. Just quiet, deliberate dismissal.
Taylor looked down at her journal again, but her pen stayed still.
She didn't know what kind of game Alessa Dawson was playing, but she was very sure she wasn't supposed to be sitting at a desk in Winslow High.
And then, just before the final bell, the door slammed open hard enough to rattle the windows.
Sophia Hess walked in like a stormfront—jaw clenched, steps sharp, eyes scanning the room like she was already deciding who deserved to bleed.
Taylor didn't move, not about to draw attention to herself, not with Sophia on the verge of committing violence.
But when Sophia's gaze landed on Alessa?
She saw it.
The flicker of recognition.
The tiniest twitch of something colder than anger.
And for just a second, Taylor swore she saw something like hesitation in Sophia Hess's eyes.
She didn't know what that meant yet, but she would.
==========
Cafeteria, far back corner seats
12:17 PM…
The cafeteria was its usual mess of beige plastic trays, soggy pizza squares, and conversations too loud to matter. Fluorescent lights buzzed like dying bees overhead, and the air smelled faintly of ketchup, reheated tater tots, and despair.
Taylor, per usual, sat alone.
Same table as always. Half-shadowed, near the back wall, close to the vending machines. Close to the exits.
She was mid-bite into a flavorless turkey sandwich when she heard it—two trays clacking down across from her.
She looked up, unprepared for what she saw.
Alessa Dawson and Alice Watson sat across from her like they belonged there. Alice grinned like she'd just dared the sun to blink. "Told you this seat was free."
Taylor blinked. "You—uh…"
"Hey," Alessa said simply. Calm. Steady. Like this wasn't a social death sentence. Taylor glanced around. A few heads were already turning. She didn't need to look to know where the Trio sat. She could feel the sudden focus from across the room like a predator spotting something new in their territory.
She opened her mouth to warn them off. "You don't have to—"
"We know," Alessa cut in gently, but firmly. "We want to."
Alice popped a grape into her mouth, then pointed her fork toward Taylor's tray. "If that sandwich gets any sadder, it's gonna file for workers comp."
Taylor choked on a laugh before she could stop herself. It came out raw, surprised, like she hadn't used that part of her voice in a while.
But the moment shattered like glass when three familiar silhouettes approached.
Emma. Madison. Sophia.
Taylor's shoulders tensed. Her hand curled reflexively around her milk carton like it could stop anything.
"Wow," Emma said sweetly, too sweetly. "Didn't realize we were handing out charity seats today."
Alessa didn't even look up from her tray. "Didn't realize we needed a permit to sit down."
Alice leaned back in her seat, one boot propped casually on the bench. "Unless this table's owned by the school's shallow-end swim team, I think we're good."
Madison scoffed. "Just warning you. She's not exactly good company."
Sophia didn't speak. She just stared. Taylor felt it like static crawling down her spine.
"Funny," Alessa said calmly. "Because the last time I checked, Taylor didn't try to murder someone on the stairs yesterday."
That made the surrounding conversations dip. Just slightly. Just enough.
Emma's smile strained. "You don't have any proof."
Alessa finally looked up. Her voice remained even. Cool. Precise. "I know someone tampered with the stairwell. I know it was slicked deliberately with soap. Taylor nearly died. And two of you, or two of your proxies, were standing just close enough to enjoy the show before they hurriedly looked away."
A few students nearby turned their heads, pretending not to listen.
Emma rolled her eyes. "You're just making assumptions."
Alessa's gaze sharpened, her emerald eyes narrowing to slits. "No," she said softly, her still growing, formerly back length red hair currently resting about her shoulders in fiery waves under the noonday sun streaming in from a nearby window, Taylor only noticed because it made Alessa look like she was burning, yet not being hurt... and not because she thought it was beautiful. Nope, totally not that! "I'm watching for patterns. Any amateur detective could figure it out, and I've always been perceptive even before my house was burned down, so let me go through the list."
Holding up a finger, Alessa proceeded to do exactly that much to Alice's visible glee, and Taylor's mounting shock and morbid awe. "The cracks in your smile." A second finger was added to the first. "The way your voice tightens when someone pushes back. How you cling to control like it's the only thing keeping you upright." Emma froze, her expression faltering—just slightly. "I've seen it before," Alessa continued, unabated. "From someone who thought pretending made them strong. But all it did was eat them alive." Emma's face drained of color, and Taylor's eyes couldn't have been wider. "So keep smiling, Emma. But you should know… masks don't protect you. They just trap you."
The silence that followed was sharp enough to cut.
Madison blinked, confused. "Wait, what's she talking abo—?"
"Shut up," Emma snapped, too loud, too fast.
Alice raised her brows. "Yikes. You okay there, Barbie? Or did someone ruin your cutesy packaging? Sucks when that happens, doesn't it?"
Emma turned and stormed off.
Not quite a run, but close enough.
Sophia stayed behind just long enough to give Alessa a look that could've shattered concrete before following at a slower, colder pace.
Taylor sat frozen, mind racing.
She didn't know what Alessa had seen.
But whatever it was…
Emma had believed it.
=========
Girls' Bathroom, East Wing
12:24 PM…
The door slammed open, banging against the wall with a hollow metallic clang.
Emma stormed in first, eyes wild, hands clenched at her sides. She shoved past a girl loitering by the sinks without so much as an apology. Madison trailed behind, flustered. Sophia brought up the rear, her glare sharp enough to cut glass. The bathroom was mostly empty save for two stalls, one closed, silent. The other had the sickly-sweet scent of cheap weed trickling out from beneath the door.
"God damn it," Emma hissed, spinning to face them. "She doesn't know anything. She can't. There's no way she could know."
"She knew something," Sophia snapped. "She tore through you like a Thinker with a vendetta."
"It's not my fault she's creepy," Emma shot back, eyes flashing. "She just, she talks like she knows people. Like she can see things."
Madison lingered by the door, wringing her hands. "She didn't even yell," she muttered. "That's the worst part. She just… picked you apart. Like you were some kind of case file."
Emma paced in tight, jerky lines, breath coming in short bursts. "It's just words. She's bluffing. I'm fine."
Sophia stepped forward, not buying it for a second. "You panicked. In front of everyone. What the hell was that about?"
"I said I'm fine!" Emma snapped, voice cracking. "She just caught me off guard."
Sophia's expression darkened. "You better get your head on straight, Emma. If she really starts digging…"
Madison looked between them, confused. "Wait, what is going on? Why are you acting like she struck a nerve or something? What was that whole 'mask' thing about?"
Emma flinched visibly, but didn't respond.
Sophia glanced at her out of the corner of her eye, then spoke coolly. "Drop it, Madison. It's personal."
"But—"
"Drop it," Sophia repeated, firmer, her tone brooking no further argument.
Emma's gaze flicked to the mirror, at her own pale face, the hair she'd styled that morning, the makeup she'd applied with practiced ease. Now though she looked like a stranger.
"She doesn't know anything," she whispered. "She can't."
Madison was still staring. "But seriously, you looked like you were about to cry. What aren't you guys telling me?"
No one answered her.
Sophia scoffed and turned toward the exit. "Whatever. If Dawson's a problem, I'll handle it."
"Don't," Emma said quickly, panic bleeding into her voice.
Sophia stopped, her tone a mixture of surprise and barely suppressed fury. "What?"
"I said don't," Emma repeated, swallowing hard. "We already screwed up with Taylor. If we try something and it backfires again, it won't just be rumors next time. People are watching now."
Sophia stared at her like she'd grown a second head.
"You're scared," she eventually said flatly, her tone not quite an accusation.
Emma looked away. "No. I'm being smart."
Madison shifted awkwardly, then finally moved to open the door. "We've got five minutes till the bell."
Sophia lingered a second longer, jaw tight, but then she left.
Emma stared into the mirror again.
The girl who looked back at her wasn't smiling anymore.
=========
It wasn't long after lunch that Taylor managed to shake off her shock and confusion as she ran to her next class. Her mind was whirling, unable to make sense of what had just happened between Emma and Alessa especially. Nothing about that confrontation was normal, certainly nothing Taylor was used to. Yet that didn't change the reality as she rushed into her afternoon math class before finding her usual seat before pulling out one of her journals. The ones she used to catalogue everything the Trio did to her, but this entry was quite different from the norm.
Taylor Hebert's Journal, Entry #112
12:55 PM…
What. The. Actual. Hell.
I don't even know how to start this.
Alessa Dawson just walked into my life like a walking contradiction. Calm, poised, devastatingly articulate, and absolutely unafraid of the three people who've made my life hell for almost a year now. She and Alice didn't just sit with me. They chose to. Willingly. Like I wasn't some social leper with a target on my back.
Then she stood her ground when they came over. Spoke up. Put Emma in her place. Calmly. Quietly. And it worked. No shouting. No drama. She just saw Emma, peeled her apart with words like she'd done it a hundred times before.
Emma cracked. In public.
I don't know what Alessa knows, but whatever she saw in Emma, it was real. Real enough to make Emma run like she'd been hit which shouldn't be possible. Not with her. Emma's been untouchable ever since that summer she changed. When I left for camp, she was my best friend. When I came back... she wasn't. Not anymore. I still don't know exactly what happened there, she never talked about it. One day she was my best friend. The next, she was stone, at least to me. Cold, perfect, and cruel.
And what's worse, Sophia was suddenly always nearby.
I've suspected for a while now that Sophia was involved. That she helped twist Emma into something else. I can't prove it. But… God, if I ever find out she had a hand in turning Emma into the monster she is now—
No. Focus.
Alessa isn't normal. She sees things—patterns, behaviors. Stuff people try to hide, and she's not afraid to act on it. I should be wary. I am wary, but I'm also… curious. And I think, maybe, for the first time in a long while… I'm not alone.
I'll have to be careful, but I think I'll keep watching her too.
Because something's changed, and I don't think Winslow's social food chain is going to survive it.
—T.H.
Taylor closed her notebook just as the teacher finally arrived, a tall man with thinning hair and a coffee stain already drying on his sleeve. He didn't even glance her way as he started writing equations on the whiteboard, droning on about parabolas like the world hadn't just tilted on its axis fifteen minutes ago.
But Taylor wasn't listening.
Her eyes drifted to the window beside her desk, where the glass distorted the November light into wavy fragments across the floor. Somewhere behind her, Madison giggled at something Sophia muttered, but Taylor didn't turn around. She was still thinking about Alessa.
About what she'd said. About how she'd said it.
For the first time in a long time, Taylor felt like maybe—maybe—she wasn't just surviving the school day.
She was watching the cracks form in someone else's mask for once.
==========
Upstairs Hallway, Near 2B
12:59 PM…
Alice kicked her locker shut with a practiced boot heel and let out a low whistle.
"Well," she muttered, brushing her glossy black bangs out of her pale blue eyes, "that was an absolute nuke in a lunch tray."
She was still riding the high from watching Emma Barn-something implode in public. Not a full meltdown, no, but that little crack in her perfect-princess act?
Glorious.
Like seeing a porcelain doll take a hammer to the face in slow motion.
Alessa had barely raised her voice. Barely looked up from her lunch. And yet… she'd turned Emma Holloway into a skittish deer in front of the entire cafeteria. Alice knew that wasn't Emma's last name, but she also didn't much care to get it right, even in the safety of her own mind since the pretty princess with a rotten interior that reminded Alessa too much about the former Mrs. Dawson, at least until Maria had gotten herself sent away, didn't deserve that honor.
And Taylor? The poor girl had looked like she was trying to process five different emotions at once without a reboot button. Alice had clocked the glances, the second-guessing, the almost-crushed milk carton. Girl was suspicious, untrusting though Alice couldn't blame her for that given what she'd likely been through, but not ungrateful.
Good.
She could work with that.
Alice adjusted her hoodie sleeves and leaned against the cool lockers, waiting for Alessa to finish grabbing her books. "So," she drawled casually, "that go how you expected?"
Alessa didn't even blink. "Almost. I thought Sophia would say something physical."
"She glared like she was trying to murder you with her eyeballs," Alice said. "Honestly? I think she might've cracked a tooth from clenching."
Alessa gave a tiny shrug. "Let her. If she makes the first move, we're golden."
Alice grinned. She loved when Alessa got like this, cold, calculated, but never cruel. True, she'd only started standing up like this after this whole Tinker-not-Tinker thing started up only after someone tried to turn her and her dad into long island pork, but it was still a thing of beauty. And Alice had a front roll seat to the show. To get back on track though, Alessa had spent years watching people push each other around, and it was rare to see someone stand up to the top hyenas without screaming or swinging. Alessa did it with a soft tone of voice, and two sentences.
The goth couldn't grin any wider without her head splitting in half.
It'd be worth it though.
"I think Taylor's officially short-circuiting," Alice added. "Which means you've got her attention."
"She needed the push."
"You basically shoved a crowbar into Winslow's social ribs and pried," Alice said with a smirk. "Ten bucks says Emma's gonna go cry in her Range Rover later."
"She doesn't drive," Alessa said absently, thumbing through her notebook for her next class.
Alice blinked. "...You looked that up?"
Alessa just smiled faintly. "I like being prepared. Besides, she's too young to get a driver's license anyway."
Alice snorted. "God, I love you."
==========
Room 212, History
1:03 PM…
Alice didn't just walk into history class. She strutted in like she'd just walked off a runway made of petty victory and caffeine. The looks they got? Delicious. Especially the ones from the peanut gallery occupying the back corner: the Frizzed Bitch Brigade, also known as Sophia, Emma, and Madison.
They looked pissed.
Good.
Alessa took her usual seat one row over and up front. Taylor wasn't in this class, unfortunately which was a shame because Alice was curious to see what kind of fallout-face she'd be making after that lunchroom mic drop. Alice slid into the desk beside her, and pulled out a pen with a little bat dangling off the end. She didn't need to take notes. History was just gossip with more dates. That and Alice was almost doing as well as Alessa as far as their grades were concerned, so worrying about the class wasn't entirely necessary anyway.
That aside, she saw the moment when Sophia stalked in last, eyes scanning the room like she was casing it for a mob hit. Her scowl deepened when she caught sight of their little dynamic duo that had already settled.
"Oh good," Alice muttered under her breath. "She brought the stormclouds."
Emma followed a few seconds later, pale and tight-lipped, like she'd just finished chewing glass and wasn't sure if she liked it. Madison trailed behind like an afterthought, largely ignored by her two 'friends'.
They sat. Far away, for now.
But the tension? Thick enough to chew.
Mr. Graeme started droning about Manifest Destiny, but Alice only half-listened. Her eyes flicked toward Sophia. That girl looked like she was going to burst a blood vessel.
Alice smiled to herself and idly doodled little cartoon bombs in her margin, each one labeled with a different word: Reputation. Pride. Control.
Today had been a good day, and it wasn't even over yet.
==========
East Wing, Science Hallway
3:17 PM…
Final bell. Sweet mercy.
Alice let the wave of fleeing students rush past her like a stampede of underachievers and hormone bombs. She lingered just outside the third-floor chem lab, waiting for the hallway to thin. Alessa emerged a few seconds later, a slight bounce in her step that only someone who knew her very well would catch.
"Time for a scavenger hunt?" Alice asked, voice low.
"Time to clean up the toys," Alessa confirmed.
They moved quickly but casually through the halls, ducking into nooks and broom closets, retrieving a half-dozen Glowbugs, Alice having helped Alessa add three more to the three already present around the school from yesterday, from vents, behind lockers, and the underside of an unused A/V cart. No one paid them much attention. Anyone still hanging around Winslow after the final bell was either avoiding home or selling something illegal in the bathrooms.
Alice pocketed the last device near the cafeteria and straightened up with a satisfied hum. "You know," she said, brushing off her knees, "you make espionage look really good."
Alessa gave her a look. "Please don't say that while I'm underage."
Alice waggled her brows. "But you're so mature for your age."
Alessa rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched like she was holding back a smile.
Then they heard it. A thump. A muffled shout.
Alice froze. "...That came from the side stairwell."
They didn't even need to look at each other. Feet moving in sync, the girls took off down the hall.
Because some people never learned when to quit.
Moments later, they burst through the side stairwell door just in time to catch the tail end of the chaos.
To neither of their surprise, Taylor was on the floor with one knee scraped, her backpack half-spilled beside her, and glasses knocked loose. Above her, Sophia loomed like a lion ready to pounce, her hand clenched into a fist, her voice low and dangerous. Emma was pacing nearby, flinching as she looked around the otherwise empty stairwell. Madison, of course, stood by the door pretending she wasn't involved.
"Are you insane?" Emma hissed. "What if someone sees—"
Too late.
"Hey, psychos!" Alice called sweetly while discreetly using one of the Glowbugs to catch the Bitches Three in the act, already halfway down the steps with a bounce in her boots. Only once she was sure she'd gotten their mugs on film did Alice just as subtly put the Glowbug back into her pocket while aloud she said, "Didn't realize it was National Cowardice Day!"
Sophia spun. Her face twisted into something between a snarl and shock. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"Stopping you from adding assault to your little list of extracurriculars." Alice folded her arms as Alessa reached the bottom of the stairs, face cold.
Alessa didn't speak at first. She just looked at Taylor, who was scrambling to her feet, trying to gather her things with shaking hands.
Then she looked at Sophia, Alice the only one to notice how tightly her best friend was clutching the top of her cane. "You have three seconds to get out of my sight," she said, voice quiet. "Or I give Taylor your broken teeth as a thank-you gift."
Madison wisely bolted even if Alice was pretty sure Alessa was bluffing.
She wouldn't put money on that though.
Regardless of her uncertainty on the matter, Emma opened her mouth, closed it, then grabbed Sophia's arm. "It's not worth it. Come on."
Sophia resisted, but something in Alessa's stare, maybe the absolute certainty of violence, made her back down.
And just like that, they fled.
Alice let out a slow whistle. "And that's how you kick the day off right."
Alessa ignored her and stepped forward, gently helping Taylor gather her things.
Taylor looked up, wide-eyed. "You… you didn't have to—"
"Didn't I?" Alessa gently asked.
Alice just leaned back against the wall, arms crossed. "Some people really are stupid enough to poke the storm and think they won't get struck."
Taylor was silent, but her hands stopped shaking. And for the first time in what Alice was willing to bet was a long time, the poor girl didn't flinch when Alessa reached toward her.
==========
Bus Stop, Outside School Grounds
3:34 PM…
The cold November wind nipped at her cheeks as Alice leaned against the rusty green bench, arms folded, watching the others shuffle into clumps while they waited for the city bus. Some scrolled their phones. Some smoked. Some just stared into space like they'd left their brains behind in their lockers. Or they never had a brain to begin with, but that was just her opinion.
Some people just deserved Darwin Awards with how stupid they could be.
Like Sophia Hess for example.
Taylor stood off to the side, clutching the straps of her backpack a little tighter than she needed to. Still shaky, still processing.
After what they'd stumbled upon, again, Alice couldn't blame her.
Alessa stood beside Alice, silent as ever, her expression neutral but her stance a touch too coiled, like she wasn't quite out of fight mode yet. The wind tugged at her fiery red locks, but she barely reacted.
"I got the footage," Alice said casually, just loud enough for Alessa to hear.
Alessa didn't smile, but her shoulders relaxed the tiniest bit.
Taylor edged closer. Not quite joining them, but no longer standing apart either. After a beat, she asked, "Why did you help me?"
Alessa's gaze didn't waver. "Because someone should have a long time ago."
That shut Taylor up, but not in the bad way. More in the 'thinking way.'
The bus finally groaned up to the curb, brakes screeching like a dying cat. Alice let the others pile in first, then nudged Alessa and gave Taylor a brief nod.
"Coming?" she asked.
Taylor hesitated… then nodded.
And just like that, the three of them boarded the bus together.
The Trio had tried to isolate Taylor again, but this time, she didn't leave alone.
Better yet, Alice had a feeling they were about to form their own 'Trio.'
The only difference was that they weren't masquerading as decent human beings.
To nobody's surprise, the ride started in silence.
Alice plopped down in the far back corner of the bus with a dramatic sigh and flung her bag into the seat beside her like it had personally offended her. Alessa took the inside seat next to her, cane balanced neatly against the wall. Taylor hesitated, then sat across the aisle, still clutching her backpack like a shield.
Alice let the silence hang for a moment before cracking a grin. "So. Ten outta ten stairwell rescue, yeah?"
Taylor blinked at her. "You… you really think that was funny?"
"No," Alice said, grinning wider. "I think it was awesome."
Alessa gave her a flat look. "You're not helping."
"What? I'm not wrong." Alice proudly retorted.
Taylor shook her head, though her lips twitched faintly at the corners. "You're both insane."
"Only on weekdays," Alice chirped. "Weekends, I'm just legally unhinged." That actually pulled a tiny chuckle from Taylor. Alice caught it, filed it away in the "progress" category, and leaned forward slightly.
"Hey, listen. I get that you're not really a… phone person," Alice said, recalling how Taylor had hesitated earlier when pulling out her schedule and had avoided even glancing at the others' phones. She'd picked up on the discomfort, the way Taylor's expression tightened anytime a ringtone buzzed nearby. Small things. Tells. But Alice had seen that kind of reflex before in other people with ghosts in their pockets. "But if you want to stay in touch? Alessa and I have this private group chat. Well, it's just us for now, but we could add you. Just email-based. No pressure."
Taylor blinked. "You'd… want me in a group chat?"
"Babe, you're halfway to being one of us already," Alice said. "You witnessed verbal murder via cafeteria lunch tray. That's basically our initiation ritual."
Taylor snorted despite herself. "W-well like you already guessed, I don't have a phone. Just a landline. And… I don't really use it much."
"Totally fine," Alessa said softly. "Email works like Alice already said."
Alice whipped out a little notepad and scribbled down the chat info. "Here. You can send a message whenever. We mostly use it for homework dumps, nerdy memes, and blowing off steam."
Taylor hesitated… then took the note. Her fingers curled around the paper like it was something fragile and rare.
For a moment, no one spoke. Just the rumble of the bus and the low murmur of other passengers.
Then Alice leaned back, arms behind her head. "So… anyone else craving celebratory pizza? Or just me?"
Taylor looked up. "You're actually serious, aren't you?"
"Always."
Alessa, finally smiling for real, murmured, "Maybe tomorrow."
And just like that, from where Alice sat watching her from across the aisle, it was clear Taylor didn't feel completely alone anymore.
==========
Route 36 Bus, En Route to Home
3:43 PM…
Taylor sat with her forehead resting against the window, breath fogging a small patch of glass as the bus rumbled down Lord Street. The city blurred past in muted tones of gray and slush. Her fingers, still clutching the folded slip of paper with Alice's sloppy handwriting on it, trembled ever so slightly—not with fear, but with uncertainty.
She hadn't let go of the note.
Why?
Because part of her wanted it to be real. Wanted to believe that what happened today wasn't an elaborate trap, that this wasn't just Emma playing the long game. Or Sophia testing how gullible she was. Again.
But it didn't feel like one of their games. Not quite.
They'd never been particularly subtle. Just cruel.
Taylor turned the paper over in her hand, the creased corner brushing her palm. An email group. No pressure. No phone needed.
She could still hear Alice's teasing voice—half sarcasm, half sincerity. And Alessa's words… calm. Measured. Steady, like a rock in a storm.
Her bugs twitched in the corners of her awareness, reacting to her shifting emotions. The range was still limited, maybe a hundred feet in every direction, but she couldn't help herself. A handful of flies had taken refuge in her backpack. A few ants crawled unnoticed beneath the floor panels, and with a simple push of her will, Taylor sent them scattering.
She hadn't meant to use her power to keep tabs on Alice and Alessa at school, but the paranoia whispered to her like it always did.
What if they were just pretending?
What if they were secretly coordinating the next step in some plot set up by the Trio?
So Taylor had had them tagged with a couple of her bugs, allowing her to sense where they were within her limited range, same as the Trio, but outside of those two confrontations, the two girls hadn't gone anywhere near the Trio. Sure, Alessa and Alice could've easily sent messages over their phones, but... Taylor didn't think so. She hadn't sensed any deceit, but Emma had once been the best liar Taylor had ever known.
Still… no stingers. No threats. Just gentle invitations.
Taylor exhaled slowly, fingers relaxing around the note. Maybe she'd send a message tonight. Just a small one.
Hi. This is Taylor.
Even thinking it made her stomach flutter with nerves, but it also made her chest ache a little less.
She glanced across the aisle one last time. Alessa had her headphones in. Alice was scribbling in her sketchbook, tongue poking out between her teeth in concentration.
Neither of them were watching her, and that, oddly, helped.
She could choose. She wasn't being pushed or cornered. Not this time.
For the first time in weeks, Taylor felt the barest flicker of something unfamiliar.
Hope.
=========
Taylor's Bedroom, at her computer desk
9:17 PM…
The room was quiet except for the hum of her computer tower. The glow from the monitor lit her face in pale blue hues as she stared at the screen, cursor blinking in the empty message window.
To: Alessa Dawson, Alice Watson
Subject: [No subject]
Hi. This is Taylor.
That was as far as she'd gotten.
Her mouse hovered over the send button, hand trembling just enough that it irritated her. She hated that she was still this uncertain. That even now, after what they'd done to help her, the fear lingered like rot at the edge of something fragile.
Just below the email tab, her inbox glared at her.
[273 Unread Messages]
She clicked it. She shouldn't have, but she did.
The subject lines told the story.
Why haven't you killed yourself yet? No one cares. Just disappear already. Freak.
Some were anonymous. Others had the obvious throwaway addresses of students she recognized, minions of the Trio, mostly. None of them were brave enough to say it in person anymore, not after what happened in the stairwell, but that didn't stop them from piling on in digital silence.
Taylor's fingers curled into a fist.
She closed the inbox.
Returned to the message.
Re-read the single line again.
Hi. This is Taylor.
After a long moment, she hit send.
Her chest felt tight. Her stomach churned, but for the first time in a long time, the screen didn't feel like a wall.
It felt like a window.
A window that was opened not long after.
A new message landed in her inbox with a soft ping. She clicked it before she could talk herself out of it.
From: Alice Watson
Subject:
Holy crap she actually emailed us! Told you she'd crack eventually.
Sup, Taylor. This is the part where I pretend to be chill and NOT freak out that you reached out first. I'm failing. Miserably. But I'll get over it.
We're kinda off the grid at the moment (Alessa roped me into a side project, long story), but I saw the ping and wanted to say hey.
You're cool. You're not alone. We've got your back. Deal with it.
— Alice
Another ping. A second message.
From: Alessa Dawson
Subject: Welcome
Hi Taylor,
I'm glad you wrote to us. No pressure, no expectations. Just know that we're here.
And if anyone gives you trouble again, they'll have to go through us.
I mean that.
— Alessa
Taylor blinked at the screen.
Her throat tightened again, but this time it wasn't from dread. Not quite. She wiped at her eyes quickly, just in case.
The cursor blinked in the empty reply box.
And for once, she didn't hesitate.
She started typing.
Thanks. I'm… not great at this. Social stuff. People. Trust.
But I appreciate it. More than I know how to say.
She paused, then hit send before she could second-guess herself again.
Another ping.
From: Alice Watson
Subject: Super Secret Trust Club Initiated
Hey, look at you, opening up and stuff! Proud of you already.
Don't worry, we're both awkward nerds too. Alessa just hides it better behind the whole stoic genius thing. Me? I'm too adorable to be intimidating.
Anyway, welcome to the Squad.
We've got memes, bad takes, and zero judgment.
Taylor laughed. Out loud. It startled even her.
Another ping.
From: Alessa Dawson
Subject: RE: Welcome
You don't have to force yourself to be anything you're not. You're doing just fine.
One step at a time. We're not going anywhere.
Taylor sat back, the warmth of the screen suddenly more comforting than isolating.
Maybe this… maybe they were real after all.
=========
Oil Tanker Workshop, The Forge Domain
9:14 PM…
The thick hum of industrial fans was the only sound besides the quiet clatter of Alice reorganizing a bin of leftover scrap in the corner. The Forge Domain they'd established just a few days ago was alive with faint golden light, flowing like mist across the floor, pooling around the modular workbenches and exposed server racks scattered throughout the tanker's converted interior. Between the slow rhythmic pulsing of the Soul of the Forge that she had finally had the Constructor Drone make earlier that morning, the golem cyclops spirit thing inside happy as a clam in its new kiln that took up a corner of the large workshop, and the mechanical chitter of the Constructor Drone assembling a small spider-like helper unit, it was, in a word—peaceful in a weird way.
Alessa stood at the main console, her PDA synced with the Builder Gauntlet that was once more on her right hand, and the growing drone network, her gaze flitting between the active processes and the latest ping from the newly reconnected Thinker.
TASK COMPLETE. READY TO RESEARCH: FORMULA STRING (ERSKINE-01) QUERY: MODIFICATION PARAMETERS?
She exhaled slowly, the tension in her shoulders loosening. "Finally."
She keyed in a brief string of commands.
Objective: Remove enhancement of personality traits/morality or lack thereof. Would rather avoid having one's face morph into a Red Skull, or otherwise negatively altered in some fashion. Also find a way to make it work without Vita-Ray Radiation since there's no known way to currently replicate it that I know about. Retain positive physical traits. Cross-reference stable mutagenic inhibitors.
The Thinker's pod—a sealed containment unit which looked like a cryo-tube at a glance, bubbled faintly as the pinkish bio-luminescent brain within lit up in reply.
ACKNOWLEDGED. BEGINNING RESEARCH. FOR QUEEN.
Alessa smirked faintly. "You're never going to stop calling me that, are you?"
"Only if you ask real nice," Alice said from across the space, barely glancing up as she stacked more copper piping into an empty rack. "And even then, I dunno. It suits you."
Alessa didn't answer that. Not verbally. She turned back to the main interface and opened the schematic logs for the Glowbug network. They'd pulled them all earlier from the school using the PDA's remote uplink, storing the encrypted data in a temporary buffer. It would need sorting—dozens of hours of hallway audio, cafeteria chatter, and more, but that could wait.
What mattered now was stability.
Security.
And progress.
Her gaze flicked toward the PDA again as a small chime announced an incoming message.
From: Taylor Hebert
Thanks. I'm… not great at this. Social stuff. People. Trust.
But I appreciate it. More than I know how to say.
A warmth sparked low in Alessa's chest. Not pride. Something quieter. Something like hope, muted and fragile.
She sent her reply before the feeling could fade: You don't have to force yourself to be anything you're not. You're doing just fine.
One step at a time. We're not going anywhere.
Beside her, the Constructor Drone beeped and skittered over to deposit another completed helper bot into the storage crate. Alessa nodded in approval.
Tonight was turning out to be a pretty good night. Tomorrow, they'd begin refining the formula. And maybe, just maybe, they'd be one step closer to being ready for whatever came next.
For the moment though, Alessa had come up with quite the insane idea.
She walked over to her original recon drone, Alpha Observer, and set it down on the central assembly table. Her fingers danced across her PDA, activating World's Maker. The chant rolled from her lips like a whisper of steel and circuitry: My inspiration is unending. My creations are peerless. My tools are unrivaled. My hands shall give birth to perfection only. For of all makers I reign as supreme.
With a subtle hum, the tools, once again as they had the first time around, materialized, a collection of high-precision arc welders, filigree-etching arms, and crystalline resonance amplifiers. This time though, a hovering glyph-inscribing wand also appeared. She took a deep breath as the knowledge flowed into her mind, arcs of arcane theory fusing with engineering diagrams.
She worked fast but methodically, the Soul of the Forge's glow intensifying as if the cyclopean spirit within approved.
First, she replaced Alpha's core power module with a modified hybrid capacitor, one that could, through enchanted circuitry, draw in ambient energy. Magic from the Forge. Electromagnetic leakage. Even diffuse heat. Nothing flashy, but enough to slowly, quietly trickle in power while in standby. Then she layered the stealth enchantment. An obscuring veil that muted Alpha's sound signature, dampened its emissions, and cast a low-level illusion field over the chassis to make it harder to spot by both mundane and digital means. Each rune burned faintly gold before fading into the alloyed casing, sealed beneath a hex-tech panel she forged herself.
Finally, she added a tiny retractable spike—an energy siphon, designed to plug into compatible nodes and draw juice directly when needed. The PDA chimed softly.
DRONE UPGRADE COMPLETE. TEST INITIATED.
Alpha rose from the worktable, wings silent, body casting only a faint blur.
Alice looked up from her phone, blinking. "Okay, that's new. You made it sneakier?"
"Better batteries," Alessa replied with a small grin. "And quieter wings. Also? It'll sip ambient power like a stealthy Roomba. Hopefully."
Alpha chirped softly, and zipped off into the upper reaches of the workshop, vanishing into shadow.
The night wasn't over yet. But this? This felt like progress.
And tomorrow, they'd get to work on something even crazier.
=========
Ch 8, Total Word Count, 7137 = 700 + 700 = 1,400 CP
-Aesthetics (Terraria - Journey's End) (100CP)
It's not enough to just be able to make things, if you can't make them look good. You now have a true talent for design work and layout, capable of mentally visualizing complex structures and working out how best to match your mental vision, without sacrificing things like structural integrity. This also applies when making things on a smaller scale, allowing you to alter the design of objects to add aesthetic flare without compromising their function.
-The Voice of Ingredients (Toriko) (200CP)
Ingredients in the series somehow have a 'will' of sorts. Through currently unexplained phenomena, there have been Ingredients in the series that seem to have a 'voice', which 'calls' for certain people and 'guides' them into how to prepare the Ingredient in question. People who possess the ability to hear the Voice of Ingredients are shown to have an affinity towards Ingredients. The Ingredients also seem to have 'preferences' for those that eat it as many believe that rather than a Chef choosing the Ingredients, the Ingredients 'choose' the Chef. Those with Voice of Ingredients will find that ingredients that "speak" to them always are the freshest or well aged, taste better then usual, and so on. This extends to other worlds where ingredients don't have Voices.
-Baboom (Smash Up) (200CP)
You're an expert in demolitions, all forms of explosive and incendiary devices. You know how to handle them safely, where and how to emplace them to best effect, and can calculate safe areas to the centimeter in your head. All such devices seem at least half-again as potent when you trigger them.
-Damaged Microchip (Terminator) (800CP)
While this looks like the damaged CPU from the first Terminator that Cyberdyne used to help build Skynet, it is actually a storage device. This contains information on just about everything that Skynet has ever produced. From the modified T-1 and small Hunter Killers, to the T3000 and Large Hunter Killer Tanks and Walkers. Even information on how to build an AI as advanced as Skynet is in here, along with Time Travel technology. The problem is, not only is the coding not understandable by the average computer, but the damage to it has eliminated some coding. Nothing vital to the schematics, but it is now even harder to piece the information together. It is unlikely to get all of the information out without 100 years of work.
-Chromosome Analysis Specialist (Biomega) (100 CP)
Well, the job description said training would be provided - and sure enough, they provided you with all of the reading material you needed to figure out what you were actually supposed to do now that you're here. The researchers at the Data Recovery Foundation have been put to task into deciphering the secret behind the immortal cells, that mysterious 24th chromosome. From all of the information that has been compiled, you've acquired a better picture of what the DRF is planning - but as well, your ability to break down genetic information and just large chunks of information in general have improved. Heck, reading that 42 volume tome had to be worth something right?
100 - 200 - 200 - 800 - 100 = 0 CP
=========
End Notes: Well, this just escalated in a big way. Terminator's entire database at our girl's fingertips? Yeah… once she gets this thing figured out, the gangs are done. Not only that, but she's gotten ANOTHER intelligence boost to boot, so Alessa's even smarter than ever now. So yeah… I'm not expecting the more mundane and local Parahuman threats to be all that threatening for much longer. That's not to say there won't be any danger, just that once she gets enough of her new toys up and running? Well… things are about to get REAL interesting lol.