I want to believe her. I want it so badly it almost hurts.
Instead, I stare at my shoes. “Thank you,” I manage.
She shrugs, but I can tell she means it. “Come on. If you stay here, they’ll just come back with more friends.”
I push off from the wall. My legs still tremble, but I follow her.
Eve doesn’t make small talk. She doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t try to fix the silence. We walk side by side down the empty corridor, away from the cameras and the echo of laughter.
For a moment, I pretend we are just two girls at any other school, friends.
It almost feels possible.
The east wing feels like a different world.
The stone is the same, but the echoes are softer here. The hallways are lined with bookcases instead of trophy cases. No one’s watching from the shadows; if they are, they’re just as good at hiding as I am. Eve leads the way with her hands stuffeddeep in her skirt pockets, her stride unhurried, like she owns the corridor or, at least, refuses to let it own her.
I match her pace, not sure if I’m supposed to talk or just keep breathing.
“I’m not dorming here. Colton and I stay at the edge of the Academy in a cabin. What room is yours?”
I hand her my key. 3A.
“Ah, nice, the quiet section of the rich wing.”
We round a corner and pass through a fire door, which closes behind us with a padded thunk. The next hall is narrower, carpeted in dark grays and blues.
Eve pauses at a window, peering out at the quad. There’s a fountain down there, a couple benches, and a random family of ducks that security is trying to shoo away.
“People avoid this wing,” she says, as if reading my mind. “Old rumor about asbestos in the walls. I think it’s just because the Board can’t be bothered to put in new windows. Wasn’t in the renno budget, but the new, overly expensive Admin building was.”
She glances at me, searching for something in my expression.
I wish I knew what face I was making.
“It’s quieter here,” I manage.
Eve nods, satisfied. “Exactly.”
She pushes off the sill and keeps walking. It’s quaint here, not quite as luxurious as I thought it would be, but nice nonetheless. She gestures at the junction, then points out the window.
“You ever get cornered again, this is your exit. Down the service stairs. If you go left, you’ll end up in the staff kitchen. Right takes you to the archives, which is off-limits but the lock’s a joke.”
She recites this like she’s explaining how to escape a burning building.
“Is this a test?” I ask, before I can stop myself.
Eve grins, just a flicker. “No. If I wanted to test you, I’d do it in public. This is… self-defense.” She turns and starts down the right corridor, and I trail behind, uncertain. “I know what it’s like.”
I try to read her. She’s taller than me, but not by much. Her spine is straight, not in the way of someone who was told to stand up straight, but like she decided a long time ago she wouldn’t let herself fold. There’s a scar under her left eyebrow, thin and pale, only visible in certain light.
I want to ask how she got it, but the thought feels intrusive.
Instead, I say, “Why did you help me?”
Eve stops walking, and I nearly collide with her.
She turns to face me, her hands still jammed in her pockets. Her expression is unreadable.
