April 24 – Wednesday Afternoon / St. Ivy High – Courtyard
The Girl Who Watches
Luna Bennett sat cross-legged beneath the cherry tree near the edge of the courtyard, sketchbook in her lap, soft sunlight dripping through petals above her. The breeze rustled gently, just enough to lift the corners of the page.
Her pencil moved lightly. Quiet. Intentional.
She wasn't drawing koi fish or blossoms today. No flowers, no delicate still-life.
She was drawing people.
Not directly.
Just shapes. Postures. Silhouettes frozen mid-motion. Someone leaning out a window. Someone flipping a notebook. A laugh caught mid-spill. A hand brushing against another and quickly pulling away.
She never asked to be noticed.
But she noticed everything.
The Way He Walks
Jay passed by not ten feet away, heading from the science wing back toward the stairs. His blazer fluttered with movement, sleeves slightly rolled. A normal boy, to most.
To Luna, he was different.
There was a precision in his walk. Like every step was practiced. Not stiff. Just… intentional.
Today, he looked lighter.
Not quite carefree—but less like he was trying to hold up the world with both hands.
She liked this version of him.
Not because he smiled more.
But because his silence felt less heavy.
Luna's pencil shifted. She captured his outline from memory, adding the slight tilt of his head as he glanced toward the sunlight.
Then she flipped to a new page and drew the same silhouette again—only this time, standing next to a second figure.
She didn't define the second shape.
Not yet.
Quiet Conversations
"Luna," came a soft voice nearby.
Amaya.
She sat down beside her on the stone ledge, placing a small bundle of cloth-wrapped pastries in her lap.
"You didn't eat lunch."
Luna smiled faintly. "Wasn't hungry."
Amaya unwrapped the cloth anyway. "You don't have to be hungry. Just share it with me."
They sat there, two girls wrapped in their own thoughts, watching the world drift by.
Jay reappeared in the far courtyard again, talking to Tyler and Emma now. Sofia popped into the scene seconds later, teasing someone loudly enough to break the quiet.
Luna didn't draw them.
She simply watched.
"What do you think about him?" Amaya said suddenly, not looking at her.
Luna blinked. "Who?"
"You know who."
A pause. Then Luna whispered, "I admire him."
"That's a kind of liking," Amaya murmured.
"I admire him too," Amaya added. "Even when it hurts."
Luna didn't reply.
Just turned the page again.
A Shadow at Her Shoulder
Sometime later, when the bell had rung and the courtyard had half-emptied, Luna remained seated. Her pencil hovered over a page—half-drawn hands reaching out but not quite touching.
A soft voice broke the quiet.
"Is that me?"
She turned.
Jay stood there, eyes flicking down to the sketchbook.
Luna closed it gently. "It was."
Jay didn't push.
Instead, he took a slow seat on the ledge beside her.
"I always figured you saw more than most," he said.
Luna smiled faintly. "I listen better than I speak."
Jay nodded, looking ahead.
They didn't speak for a while.
Then he asked, "What do you see… when you look at me?"
Luna hesitated.
Then said, "Someone carrying too many things in silence… but learning to put some of them down."
Jay let out a quiet breath.
"That's… surprisingly accurate."
"I draw what I feel," Luna said.
Jay looked at her.
"I'm glad you do."
The moment passed quietly.
Jay stood.
"You ever show those sketches to anyone?"
Luna shook her head. "They're not meant to be seen. They're meant to… remember."
He gave her a small, genuine smile. "Then thank you… for remembering."
Then he left—no dramatic exit, no tension. Just calm.
Luna opened her sketchbook again.
She turned to the silhouette page—the one with the undefined figure beside him.
And this time… she added herself.
Just a little.
Just enough to exist.
Not next to him.
Not holding his hand.
But walking quietly, beside.