The sun crept over, keeping itself back. It spilled itself, brushing the windows of Lindsay's house like a shy hand.
Margo awoke to a quilt that smelled lavender and books. The light drew over the lines of her face, sleepy and gentle, and the quietness of the house settled against the weight of her chest—not firm, not unkind. Just. full.
No voices, no laughter, no footsteps. Only the hiss of the heater, such an old man clearing his throat.
She sat up in bed. Socks were propped against the floor. The corridor smelled of cinnamon, and in the kitchen Lindsay huddled over in the same pose, pinned-up hair held together by a pencil, steaming chipped mug between shaking hands.
"Morning," said Lindsay, hoarsely a bit, as if she'd talked in her sleep.
"Morning." Margo sat across from her, eyes still puffy from sleep.
"You were dreaming," Lindsay told her.
"I didn't mean to wake you."
"You didn't." A pause. "I just heard you. talking. Not words, really. Just noises."
Margo looked down at her eggs. Played with them with her fork. "They're always the same. The dreams."
"You want to talk about them?"
"No. Not yet."
Lindsay nodded, as if she knew. Maybe she did.
Outside, the wind blew a soft sigh across the window. Somewhere far off, a dog barked. The world felt small but safe. The toast cooled, the orange juice glistened. Margo took a bite, even if she wasn't hungry.
"You'll do great today," Lindsay said.
Margo gave her a weak smile. "I hope so."
They drove under a sky that did not know itself—half blue, half cloud. Trees leaned in on either side, tall and observing, arms like branches into each other. The road was thin and empty.
"You nervous?" Lindsay asked.
"A little."
"You don't have to be. New things don't require perfection from you."
Margo stared out the window. "I think. I think the past still looks at me."
Lindsay didn't respond immediately. The radio was filled with gentle static, a song too gentle to identify.
At last she spoke, "Perhaps it does. But it can't enter unless you open the door."
NorthFord School
The school was like something in a movie—large and tidy and yellow, with clean windows and streamers that waved graciously in the breeze. Children flooded in like water, voices spilling everywhere, laughter ringing off the bricks.
Margo got out of the car, adjusted her dress, hugged books against her chest.
She could feel them.
The eyes.
"Who's that?"
"She's so pretty."
"Is she famous?"
"She looks upscale."
The teachers beamed too hard. One of them, blue, ran Margo's shoulder with a casual touch. "Welcome to NorthFord, sweetie."
Margo nodded. Her heart pounded.
Inside
The room smelled of markers and floor wax. Miss Cray smiled at her with a smile that fell just short of her eyes.
"This is Margo, everyone. Let's show her some kindness."
A few claps. A yawn.
Then: a snicker from the back.
"Fashion show's early this year," a girl whispered.
Margo found her seat near a girl with auburn braids and notebook doodles in every margin.
"I'm Vielle," the girl whispered. "Ignore Lacey. She thinks eye-rolling is a personality."
Margo smiled. "Thanks. I'm Margo."
"Yeah, I guessed so." Vielle's grin was prickly but warm. "People already gossip. You're the new legend."
Lunch
The cafeteria was full of rumors and sugar. Trays rattled. Giggles resounded. Margo and Vielle sat in the corner at a table under clattering vent.
"Everyone regards me like that all the time?" Margo asked herself, wiping at lunch.
"Just when you're new. And enigmatic. And adorbs."
Margo flushed. "I'm not—"
"You are. Accustom yourself to it."
And then—bam.
Books fell to the floor. Margo's heart stopped.
She hunched down quickly. "Sorry—I didn't see—"
"Here," a voice answered, as soft as snow.
She raised her head.
And the rest. disappeared.
It was him.
From the field. From the dream. From that weird instant among the trees.
His eyes were blue. Too blue. Like oceans in them. His face was calm, soft. Not shy—just frozen.
"You okay?" he asked.
"Y-Yeah." She stood up, rumpled. "Thanks."
He gave her the final book. His fingers brushed against hers.
For a moment.
And something awakened beneath her skin.
"Gabriel," he said.
"I'm Margo."
"I know."
Then he turned. Walked away.
Margo stared after him, the world spinning too slow.
Vielle nudged her. "Uh... you good?"
"That boy..."
"What boy?"
"Gabriel."
Vielle frowned. "Who's Gabriel?"
Margo blinked. "He just—"
But the hall was empty.
Geography. Boring. Dry maps and slow voices. Then, tap tap. She turned. Another boy. This one, all smirk and swagger, dark curls falling into his eyes.
"Hey," he whispered. "You new?"
"Yeah."
"I'm George." A wink. "Pretty name?"
"...Margo."
The teacher turned. "George Lee, hush."
He leaned back, hands up in surrender. "Just being friendly."
Laughter rolled through the room like marbles.
Margo shrank a little. Vielle raised an eyebrow. "Well damn, girl. You collect boys like strays."
Margo didn't laugh this time. Something about it felt... off.
Like someone was watching. Breathing just behind her.
The sun slipped down behind clouds, stretching shadows across the sidewalk. Both boys were waiting. George spun his keys. "Going somewhere?"
Gabriel stood by the trees. Quiet. Still.
"Want to hang out?" George asked.
Gabriel said nothing, but his eyes asked the same.
"I... I can't today," Margo said. "Sorry."
She turned quick. Vielle grabbed her arm.
"We've got homework," she said. Too fast.
As they walked away, Margo looked back.
Gabriel was still there.
So was George.
So was something else. A chill she couldn't shake.
Home
The house smelled like soup and something sweet. Lindsay set the table with music playing low.
"How was it?" she asked.
Margo smiled. "Weird. But... good."
"Good weird?"
"I think so."
They ate. The light flickered once. The wind pressed against the windows.
"Storm's coming," Lindsay said.
But Margo shook her head. "No. It's not a storm."
Lindsay didn't ask what she meant.
That Night
She curled under the quilt, the stars above her bed glowing soft.
Somewhere, the boards creaked.
She listened.
Nothing.
Then—outside, past the glass, near the trees— Someone stood. Still. Watching. Gabriel.
He raised his hand. And waved.