Kian's world, for a brief, terrifying moment, had shrunk to the two-foot space between his knee and the bus window.
He was trapped. An unknown variable—a person—was now sitting in his sanctuary, in the seat he always kept empty with his bag. He could feel the proximity of her, a warmth and a scent of apples that was an invasion of his sterile, controlled environment.
He did the only thing he knew how to do. He retreated.
He jammed his headphones on, a clear, universal "do not disturb" sign. He didn't bother with music. He just needed the shield. He turned his body slightly toward the window and closed his eyes.
He wasn't resting. He was working. He was visualizing. He was in the other gym, his real gym.
Ana's screen... it's still soft. She's afraid of contact. How do you teach toughness? Do I make them run contact drills? She's too small. No. It's... it's about footwork. It's about angles. She's not planting wide enough. Her base is weak.
He was so deep in his own internal, obsessive lab, that he didn't feel the bus lurch to a stop. He didn't hear the chatter.
He was, in his own way, completely nonchalant.
The girl next to him, the new variable, was equally nonchalant. She didn't try to speak. She didn't fidget. She didn't sigh. She simply opened the book in her lap—Kian saw the cover out of the corner of his eye, The Stranger by Camus—and began to read.
Two ghosts, sitting side-by-side in the back of a bus, perfectly silent, ignoring each other with a comfortable, shared intensity.
They were the only two people on the bus who were unaware that they had just caused a social explosion.
In the middle of the bus, Silas's brain was short-circuiting. He was grabbing Ren's arm, his whisper a high-pitched squeak.
"Ren. Ren. Are you seeing this? Am I... am I having a stroke? Look!"
Ren, without looking up from his own book, just sighed. "I see it, Silas. A new variable has entered the ecosystem."
"A variable? Dude, that's a person! A girl! A... a really pretty girl! And she's sitting next to Kian! And he... he let her! He took his bag off the seat! I... I've never... seen him move his bag. I... I bumped into it once... and he... he looked at me... like I... had... murdered... his... cat!"
"Your... analysis... is... flawed," Ren said, turning a page. "He... he is not... interacting. He... he is... in stasis. She... she is... also... in stasis. It's... it's a... non-interaction. It's... fascinating. Two... null sets... occupying... the same... space."
"They... they look... comfortable," Silas hissed, his mind racing, building a new narrative. "They... they look... like they... do this... every day. Oh my god, Ren. Do... do you think... this... is... a... thing? Is this... his... girlfriend? Is this... why... he... executed... Sienna? He... he was... protecting... his... secret... Camus-reading... bus... girlfriend?"
"Your... imagination... is... a... narrative... catastrophe," Ren said. "Calm down."
Further up, Leo, who was deep in conversation with Chloe about Coach Miller's strange obsession with '80s music, happened to glance back. He was looking for Silas... and he froze.
He stared. He blinked.
Kian. Hood up. Eyes closed.
And... a girl. A new girl. Sitting... right next to him.
Chloe, noticing his sudden silence, followed his gaze. "Oh. Does... does your brother have a friend?"
Leo just stared, his mind a blank, confused slate. "I... I honestly... do not know."
But it was three rows ahead of Silas where the real impact was felt.
Sienna James, sitting with her clique, felt the vibe of the bus shift. She saw people whispering, looking... past her. To the back.
She turned.
And she saw.
She saw Kian Vance, the boy who had publicly, coldly dismantled her. The boy who had called her boring. The boy who had made her a laughingstock...
...sitting placidly... quietly... willingly... next to a new girl.
A pretty girl. A... a mysterious... book-reading... girl.
Sienna's humiliation, which had been a simmering, controlled rage, ignited.
It was, to her, the ultimate, final insult. He hadn't just rejected her. He had replaced her. He had lied. He wasn't a "ghost." He wasn't an "Ice-Man." He was just... a guy... who had... a secret girlfriend.
He hadn't executed her because he was above it all. He'd done it to protect... her.
This narrative could not stand.
Sienna's mind went cold and sharp. She had lost the direct war. Kian was... invulnerable. He didn't care what she said.
But his brother...
His brother, Leo. The Captain. The hero. The one who was all heart. He... he was vulnerable. And... he had... enemies.
Sienna's eyes narrowed. She turned back around, a slow, cold, predatory smile touching her lips. She had a plan.
The rest of the school day, Kian was... unaware. He was a ghost. He got off the bus, the new girl got off, and they went their separate ways without a word. He went to his classes. He sat in the back. He ignored the whispers. He was just... waiting. Waiting for 3:05. Waiting for the lab.
At 12:30, in the chaotic swirl of the high school lunch period, Sienna James made her move.
She "accidentally" crossed paths with Dylan Riley.
Dylan was in a foul mood. He was nursing a bruised ego and sore muscles. Coach Miller had been running him ragged, all left-handed drills, all the time. He was failing. And worse... Leo Vance... was thriving. Leo was the new "architect." Leo had the coach's ear. Leo was dating Chloe Kim, the girl Dylan had been planning to talk to.
He was... angry.
"Dylan," Sienna said, her voice a sweet, sympathetic coo. She "bumped" into him by the vending machines. "Oh, sorry. You... you look... exhausted. Coach Miller... he's... he's really... riding... you hard, isn't he?"
Dylan just grunted, his face dark. "Whatever. It's... practice."
"It just... it seems... unfair," Sienna said, tilting her head. "I... I watch... the games. You... you are... so fast. The fastest... player... we have. And... he... never... runs... Showtime... anymore. He... he just... listens... to Leo."
Dylan's head snapped up. *He... he did... just listen to Leo.
"It's... it's weird, isn't it?" Sienna said, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. "How... how Leo... suddenly... got so... smart? How... how he... knew... all your... moves... in tryouts? How... he... knew... Redwood's... entire... playbook?"
Dylan's eyes narrowed. "What... what are... you saying?"
"Oh, nothing," Sienna said, holding her hands up, her face a mask of perfect, innocent concern. "It's... it's just... Kian. You know... his brother."
"The... the weirdo?" Dylan scoffed.
"The 'weirdo'..." Sienna agreed. "He... he sits... in the... back... of the... stands... at practice... sometimes. He... he watches... everything. He... he's... creepy. And... he's... smart. Really... smart."
She... planted... the seed.
"I... I just... wonder... where... Leo... gets... all his... 'data'," she said. "I... I wonder... if... he's... really... that smart... at all. Or... if... he's... just... a... puppet... for... his... creepy... little... brother."
She... had him. Dylan's... face... was... darkening. He... he hated... Leo. He... he needed... a reason.
"Kian..." Dylan muttered.
"Just... think about it," Sienna said, patting his arm. "It... it must be... so frustrating... to be... the... most talented... player... on the... team... and have... to take... orders... from... a... liar. See you around, Dylan."
She walked away. She had... aimed... the weapon.
That afternoon, Crestwood practice was not... a team. It was a civil war.
Leo, still high on his wise victory and his new... relationship... with Chloe, walked in ready to work.
"Alright, guys, listen up!" Leo called, his voice full of "Captain" energy. "Coach wants us to perfect... the hedge-and-recover. It... it was... Kian's... idea... it's... brilliant. We... we need... to..."
"It... was... Kian's... idea?"
Dylan Riley's voice was a low, ugly growl. He stepped into the center of the huddle.
Leo... froze. He... hadn't meant... to say that.
"What... what did you... just say?" Dylan demanded.
"I... I..." Leo stammered.
"So... it's true," Dylan said, a slow, ugly smile spreading on his face. "Sienna was... right. You're not... the brain, Vance. You... you're just... a... parrot. You're... taking... orders... from... your... freak... brother? The... one... who... hates... all of us?"
The team... went silent. Julian. Sam. Marcus. They all... looked... at Leo.
"That's... not... what it is!" Leo said, his face flushing. "He... he helps! He... sees things!"
"He SPIES... is what he does!" Dylan shouted. "He... he watched... me... in tryouts! He... he fed you... my weaknesses! You... you didn't... beat me! You CHEATED!"
"I... I didn't... cheat!"
"You LIED!" Dylan yelled. "You... you pretend... to be... this... 'Captain'! This... 'hard worker'! You're... just... a... fraud, Vance! You're... nothing... without... your... creepy... little... brother... feeding you... answers!"
"SHUT UP, DYLAN!" Leo roared, his own... anger... igniting. "You... you don't know... anything... about... him!"
"I know... that I'm... not... taking... orders... from... a... spy!" Dylan shoved Leo in the chest. "You... want... to run... 'Kian's... defense'? You... run it... without... me."
He... turned. He... walked... out of... the huddle. He... picked up... a ball. He... went... to the... other... end... of the... court. He... started... shooting. Alone.
The team... was... broken.
Leo... stood... there. Shaking. Humiliated.
Julian Hayes walked over, his face grim. "Leo... what... is... he talking about? Is... is Kian... scouting... for you?"
Leo... looked... at his... team. At... their... confused, distrustful... faces.
His... leadership. His... trust. The... thing... he... had... built... all on... his own...
It... was... shattered.
All... because... of... a... bus seat.
Miles away, in the other gym, Kian Vance was in his sanctuary. He was blissfully, dangerously unaware of the war that had just been declared on his brother.
He was... working.
"NO!" his voice echoed in the perfect, empty gym. "ANA! Your screen! It... was... a... suggestion! It is... a... WALL! You... plant... your feet! You... be... the... HAMMER!"
He blew the new whistle hanging around his neck. The shriek... was... loud.
He... he was... in... total... control.