I kicked my feet against the chair, watching the cook shift uncomfortably under my gaze. He looked like he'd rather be anywhere but here, but that wasn't my problem.
"I don't get it, young Miss," he muttered, scratching the back of his head.
I huffed. Why were adults so slow? "It's supposed to be spicy," I reminded him, rolling my eyes. "If the customer is choking, that means it's working. Who's it for, anyway?" I turned my head, scanning the restaurant.
Not that I cared. I just wanted to see my little experiment in action.
The cook let out a breath, like I'd just told him he wasn't getting fired today. "The young man in the blue shirt, just behind the window at the end of the hall."
I barely spared the guy a glance before something way more interesting caught my attention.
At a table near the back, four kids-my age-sat stiffly, all dressed in black. They looked like tiny ninjas, but they weren't even talking. No food, no drinks, just sitting there, silent like they were in a horror movie.
Weird.
I slid off my chair, already losing interest in my choking victim. Who cared about some random guy when there were actual mysterious kids sitting right there?
Marching straight to their table, I planted myself in front of them. Four sets of eyes snapped to me instantly, like I'd just ruined some super-secret ninja mission.
Oh, please.
"Hey, Jerry," I called over my shoulder to one of the bodyguards trailing me. That was a name I made on the spot, but it will be me and Jerry's little secret. "Be a good boy and fetch me a chair, will you?"
Jerry obeyed without question. That's why he was my favorite.
"Hi," I said, planting my hands on my hips. "I'm Ada. What's your name?"
The only girl in the group-brown-eyed and pretty-peeked at me with big, shaky eyes before quickly looking away.
"Leave," one of the boys ordered, voice cold as ice.
Oh?
I turned to him, taking in his scowling face. He had the whole broody, don't-talk-to-me thing going on, and I already knew exactly what to call him.
"Mr. Grumpy," I decided.
Jerry returned with a chair, and I plopped down on it like I belonged there. Mr. Grumpy glared, but I ignored him.
"What are your names?" I asked, swinging my legs.
The girl hesitated before whispering, "Aisha."
Ooooh.
I gasped dramatically. "No way. My name starts with an 'A' too! That means we're totally best friends now."
Aisha blinked. "Really?"
"Obviously. It's a sign." I nodded seriously. "We have to take it very seriously."
The cutest boy I had ever seen chuckled, making my brain short-circuit for a second.
"I'm Luke," he said. "That's Obinna, and over there is Matthew. Don't mind Matthew-he's rude to everyone."
Ohhh, so Mr. Grumpy had a real name. Not that I was gonna use it.
I turned to Obinna, the smallest of the group. He hadn't spoken a word, but I didn't need him to-his stomach was growling loud enough to introduce itself.
"Hey, Tom," I called, waving lazily at another bodyguard. "Get us something to eat, will you?"
Obinna's stomach rumbled again, and I smirked.
"We're not hungry," Mr. Grumpy growled.
I gave him a look. "No kidding, Sherlock. That totally explains why Obinna's stomach is singing a full concert. Wow, you're such a genius."
Luke burst into laughter, and Matthew-Mr. Grumpy-looked like he wanted to throw me out the window.
"Only dogs growl," I told him sweetly, then turned back to Aisha. "Anyway, your hair is really pretty."
Aisha blinked, like she wasn't used to compliments. "Thank you," she said, then frowned. "Dogs. Do you have a dog?"
The question was so random I almost laughed.
"Nope. I have a cat. We call her Kittypaws."
"Not cats," Aisha declared, shaking her head. "Cats are bad. I want a dog."
My jaw dropped. "Excuse me?! Cats are adorable. Dogs are not as cute. End of discussion."
Aisha pouted. Clearly, she disagreed.
Luke tilted his head at me, his cute face full of curiosity. "Why are you being nice to us? You don't even know us."
I shrugged. "I was bored. But now I changed my mind. You guys are weird, and I wanna know why. But," I gave a dramatic sigh, "it'd be rude to ask."
Matthew narrowed his eyes. "Things like what?"
Hook, line, and sinker.
I grinned. "Like, why are you dressed like ninjas? You don't act like friends or siblings, but you're together. And where are your parents? I mean, I'm super jealous you're out without an adult, but still. And finally, why is it just me noticing how weird this is?"
Silence.
No answers.
Figures.
Just then, waiters arrived with trays of food, setting them down in front of us.
I turned to Obinna, my voice softer now. "Want me to feed you?"
Obinna hesitated, glancing at the others.
"Eat it first," Matthew ordered, his voice sharp.
I froze.
Oh.
They thought I poisoned it.
Eight-year-olds. Thinking about poison.
I was actually a little impressed.
Luke gave me an apologetic look. "Sorry, Ada. It's not you. Just... humor us, okay?"
I sighed dramatically. "Fine, fine. You guys are so dramatic."
I took a sip from each drink, then grabbed a spoon and took tiny bites from all the plates.
The second I swallowed the last one, they attacked the food like starving wolves.
I sat back, wide-eyed.
Okay. Exactly how long had they gone without food? Hours? Days? A whole lifetime?
Obinna didn't even bother with cutlery-he was just shoveling food into his mouth with his hands.
"That's unhealthy," I muttered, ruffling his hair.
Five minutes. That's how long it took them to clear everything. This was food meant for ten adults.
"Do you want more?" I asked.
Aisha wiped her sauce-stained mouth and smiled. "You're a good person. Nothing like me."
That... was a weird thing to say.
I waved her off. "Crazy people like us gotta stick together."
Mr. Grumpy, of all people, spoke up next. "Your outfit is terrible."
I blinked. "Excuse me?!"
He smirked. "You look like you came from a circus. You should fix that."
Oh, now I was mad. This dress was one of my favorites, and I admit, it was multicolored and a little weird, but still pretty.
Yet, Mr. Grumpy just knew how to ruin the mood.
"I DO NOT dress like a clown!"
"Obviously," Matthew said, still smirking. "Clowns don't know they look like clowns. It's quite great fashion to them."
Luke coughed into his fist, trying (and failing) to hold back laughter.
"You dress better than a clown, Ada," he offered.
I clenched my fists. "That. Doesn't. Help."
Obinna grinned. "Don't pay them any attention, your dress is lit."
Okay, now I liked him.
From there, the conversation turned into chaos. We talked about school, ranted about how terrible it was, then got into a heated debate about how boys were gross. The boys did some ridiculous victory dances when they won arguments, and I had to grab them by the hair multiple times.
We were loud. Loud enough to annoy every single person in the restaurant.
I didn't care.
For the first time in forever, I was having fun.
"So I looked her in the face and told her," Matthew said, slipping into a smug grin, "You just helped yourself to a big dish of frog meat. How does it taste this time? Still delicious?"
We all burst into laughter. I clutched my stomach, half-wheezing, half-gasping for air. It wasn't just the joke-it was them. The way we'd been talking for hours, how easy it felt, how natural.
We weren't just friends. It was something deeper. Something real.
"Which middle school do you have in mind, Ada?" Aisha asked suddenly.
The laughter died down as they all turned to me, waiting for my answer.
"Nerland," I sighed. "Not really negotiable. Granny decided that."
They all made an "oh" sound, but something about the way they shifted in their seats made me pause.
That was... weird.
For a few seconds, no one spoke. It felt unnatural, like they wanted to say something but wouldn't. Then I noticed they weren't looking at me anymore.
They were looking at the door.
Frowning, I turned to follow their gaze.
Outside the glass doors, about a dozen men in suits stood, watching.
No-watching them.
Obinna stood up immediately. "I'll call you," he said, the rest of them rising too. "We need to leave."
"I could escort you," I offered, getting to my feet.
"No." Aisha's hands trembled as she shoved me back into my seat. "Please, stay. Don't step outside with us."
I narrowed my eyes. "If you don't want to leave with them, just say the word. My family is powerful enough to give whoever's threatening you hell on earth. No-fuck that. I alone am enough."
Luke smiled, but there was something sad behind it. "We get it. You're a Storm. But we aren't in danger. We're just going home."
Aisha's shaking hands told me otherwise.
But if I pushed too much, they'd just dodge the question.
I gave up.
They looked at each other, something unspoken passing between them. Then, all at once, they turned back to me and pulled me into an embrace.
"You are my sanity," Obinna whispered.
"You are my friend," Aisha added.
"You made me feel human again," Luke murmured, voice trembling like he was barely holding himself together.
"You keep me grounded," Matthew mumbled, just low enough for me to hear.
My brain short-circuited.
What was I supposed to say to that?!
But before I could even process it, before I could tell them something-anything-they were already walking away, disappearing through the doors with the suited men.
"What the hell was that?" I muttered, shaking my head.
That strange, uncomfortable loss settled in my stomach again. But I didn't have time to think about it.
Mum stepped out of the elevator, her friend trailing behind. She looked rushed. Worried.
I raised a brow. What could possibly get her so worked up?
That's when I realized the restaurant was almost empty.
It was still an hour until dusk.
Weird.
I didn't even notice people leaving. Then again, I'd been so caught up with my new friends, the apocalypse could've hit and I wouldn't have noticed.
"Get up, Ada. We're leaving," Mum said the moment she reached me.
"What's the rush?" I asked, standing. Not that I wanted to stay here any longer anyway.
"There's been a mass murder," Mum said impatiently. "An explosion. A hundred people dead."
Lyra sighed. "Vicky, relax. It'd take a fool to cross the Storms."
"I know," Mum snapped. "But I'm not taking any chances with my daughter."
"Did they get whoever did it?" I asked as we walked toward the doorway.
Mum let out an irritated huff. "Of course not. Since when were the police ever that responsible?"
Oof. She was really pissed.
"They only caught footage of four black-clothed silhouettes in a moving vehicle after the explosion. Tell me, what good is that?"
Four.
Four figures.
Four kids in black.
My brain immediately supplied the image of my friends.
I shoved the thought away.
No. That was ridiculous. It wasn't every day you saw eight-year-olds driving a car.
And they weren't murderers. They were like me. Kids.
Right?
The little army of armored soldiers surrounded us, leading us into the Mercedes Maybach. The convoy moved out the moment the doors shut.
And through it all, one thought kept repeating in my head.
I hope they're okay.