Nothing.
I chew on my bottom lip and run a hand through my hair. Someone else found the wallet. It could be anyone. What do I do now?
A musical chime erupts.
First bell.
People give me funny looks as they take their seats.
There’s no more blending in. I clearly don’t belong here.
I make a mad dash for the nearest exit and immediately regret it when my watch beeps in protest and my chest pulls tight. I bend over, placing a hand to my heart.
The pills I took yesterday worked in the moment, but they were just a band-aid. My heart needs time to recover.
I promised the doctors I would be more careful, but they still went through the entire spiel about what I can and cannot do.
As if I needed it.
I’m aware what’s at stake.
Even if Finn makes me feel things I never have before, I can’t get lost in it.
The moment I lose control of this game, I die.
Movement to my left grabs my attention, and I realize that I’m not the only one not in uniform. Three tough-looking boys are making a beeline for the emergency staircase. They move furtively, eyes checking over their shoulders before they disappear.
Why do they seem familiar? I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen any of those guys before.
I straighten, intending to follow them when a voice calls me back.
“Young lady, why aren’t you in uniform?”
I recognize one of the Redwood Prep instructors bearing down on me. She’s tall and thin with a mole next to her nose. She was one of the teachers who subscribed to the app, but she mostly clicked on negative news about Miss Jamieson. Probably out of jealousy that the younger, more beautiful teacher got so much male attention.
“Who are you? I’ve never seen you before.” She inspects me rigidly.
I open my mouth, but a striking pain hits my chest, and I wince.
“Don’t try to act pitiful now,” she mumbles. “First a shooting, now riff-raff are sneaking in. It’s because Harris didn’t lay down the law. Our school has gone completely off the rails.”
“I’m sorry,” I breathe out. The pain disappears as quickly as it set in, and I’m able to straighten to my full height. “I’ll leave.”
She grabs my arm, her mouth a slashing line in her face. “No, you won’t. The police told us to report any suspicious characters lurking around.”
“But I’m not?—”
“You can explain it to them,” she snaps, dragging me along.
For an old lady, she has a surprisingly strong grip.
“I can explain,” I plead, trying to free myself.
Abruptly, the teacher stops moving.
I feel a cold wind blowing out of nowhere, and I look up to find Finn standing in the middle of the empty hallway. He’s wearing a simple button-down shirt beneath a Redwood Prep vest. The academy uniform drapes his lean, broad-shouldered physique like he’s a model in Paris. As usual, his face is blank.
“Mr. Cross,” the teacher says in a startled tone. “W-why aren’t you in class?”
