The walk to the front courtyard felt longer than it should have. I heard shouting—some confused, some angry, some scared—and when we rounded the corner, a chaotic cluster of students and teachers came into view.
"Karina!" someone yelled.
Freya.
She broke through the crowd like a wave, barreling straight toward me. Her hair was a little messier than usual, her bow sliding halfway down her shoulder, but the moment she reached me, she threw her arms around me without hesitation.
"Oh my God—KK. What the hell just happened? I couldn't find you—I thought—"
"I'm fine," I said quickly, wrapping my arms around her out of habit. "I'm okay."
She pulled back, narrowing her eyes. "You don't look okay."
I tried to force the corners of my mouth up. "Just... rattled."
But I saw it in her eyes—she didn't buy it. Freya knew me too well.
Behind her, Cassie and Aline appeared, weaving between the milling students. Cassie looked panicked, her usual calm replaced with jittery energy. Aline was holding her phone tight like it was a lifeline.
"You good?" Cassie asked as soon as she reached me.
I nodded. Too fast. "Yeah. Xander was with me."
"Lucky you," Aline muttered, glancing sideways at Xander, who stayed close but silent, scanning the area like a guard on duty.
I heard the words, but I couldn't process them properly.
My mind was already somewhere else.
Back in the trees.
Back to that flicker of movement.
Back to Xander's voice, low and certain:
"They were watching."
Why?
Why watch me?
What were they waiting for?
And that memory again—those Russian words that came out of nowhere.
Ты не готова.
Was it a warning? A memory? Or something worse?
Freya touched my arm gently, grounding me. "KK?"
I looked at her.
She was frowning. "You're zoning again. Talk to me."
I blinked. For a second, I'd forgotten we were in front of the school. Forgotten the crowd. The questions. The sirens in the distance.
"I'm just tired," I lied.
Freya's brows knit together. "You're not that good at lying, you know."
I didn't respond.
Because maybe I wasn't good at lying.
But I'd been trained to act like I was fine.
Trained to smile through chaos.
Trained to sit still while alarms screamed.
Thanks, Dad.
And now I was spiraling again. My hands were clammy. My heart was too loud.
But then—
A voice.
His voice.
"Karina."
Xander.
Calm. Low. Direct.
I turned to look at him.
Just his eyes pulled me out of my head like a hook on a string.
"Stay focused," he said. "Not the time for drifting off."
He wasn't being cold. Not really.
Just efficient.
Just professional.
But it worked.
I pulled in a breath. My mind steadied.
For now.
We were told to "return to our usual schedule" twenty minutes later.
Half the teachers wore painted-on smiles like cheap masks, pretending everything was fine. The other half avoided our eyes, stiff and uncomfortable in their own skin. The kind that twitched when a locker slammed shut.
It didn't fool any of us.
They'd dismissed the alarm as a prank, brushed off the evacuation as "precautionary." Said someone must've thought it was funny to pull the handle. That it was "nothing to worry about."
Right.
So naturally, the first thing we all did was find the furthest place from teachers and other students to regroup — the quiet grass hill behind the west building. It was cooler here, away from the heat of the sun and the heat of everyone's questions.
I sat cross-legged, elbows on my knees, hands together like they were holding me up.
My friends circled around me on the grass. Cassie fidgeted with her skirt, picking at loose threads. Aline had her phone out, probably typing furiously in some conspiracy group chat. Freya sat closer to me than usual — not that I blamed her.
Xander stood a few feet behind us, arms crossed, eyes sharp and focused. Not on us — not directly. But always scanning. Watching.
Like a shadow glued to my steps. Or a shield I didn't ask for.
"They really expect us to believe someone pulled the alarm for fun?" Aline scoffed, not even looking up from her screen. "That was not a joke."
"I saw a teacher bolt through the hall like the floor was on fire," Cassie added. "I've never seen Ms. Levant move that fast. Ever."
Freya picked at the grass beside her, brows drawn. "No one even looked at the new students. That's what's weird. They showed up, what, three days ago? And now this?"
Her words hit a little too close.
I didn't answer, but I could feel the weight of her gaze turning toward me. I kept my eyes down.
Aline turned her phone off with a frustrated tap. "They're hiding something. If this was just some idiot pulling a fire alarm, why was the gym evacuated separately? Why was there yelling before the bell even rang?"
Cassie nodded slowly. "I heard someone scream. It was real. Scared."
"Teachers are either in on something," Aline continued, her tone lower now, "or they're being kept in the dark like us."
Silence.
I didn't know how to respond. Part of me agreed. The other part was too caught up in the spinning storm inside my chest. The echo of a memory I didn't remember having. Ты не готова. I breathed out slowly, trying to steady the fluttering in my lungs. My heartbeat hadn't quite returned to normal.
Freya nudged me gently with her shoulder. "You're awfully quiet, K."
I blinked. "I'm fine."
"You sure?" she asked again, eyes narrowing just slightly. "You're doing that thing again. The overthinking spiral thing."
I gave her a look, but I knew she wasn't wrong.
"She's not wrong," Aline said, glancing over. "You've been zoning in and out since it happened. You're not usually that easy to shake."
I glanced over my shoulder briefly.
Xander was still standing, back against the tree behind us. Watching. Calm. Still. I wondered how much he was picking up from our conversation, and how much of it would be filed away in that unreadable head of his.
"Maybe I'm just tired," I said, too fast. Too empty.
Freya didn't push — not out loud. But she didn't stop looking at me either.
And I hated that they noticed. That I was starting to feel like a weak point.
"I think we should be more careful," Aline said again, voice low now. "Like…all of us."
Xander's eyes flicked in her direction.
Freya finally looked away from me. "If the teachers won't do anything, then we have to keep our own eyes open."
The wind moved through the trees behind us like a whisper none of us could understand.
I nodded.
Not because I was convinced.
But because I had to. Because the silence between us was growing heavier than anything I could say.
And I didn't trust myself to keep my voice from shaking.