Three dots appear, then disappear, then appear again.
Friday matters.
I know it does. Friday is the UCLA game. The one where we prove we're not the team that split at home. The one where Theo gets to show everyone — Coach, the team, UCLA, himself — that he's the best player on the ice.
And I need to be ready. Need to be fast and sharp and not hesitating.
Need to stop thinking about the girl who's currently dismantling her entire world to find answers I already have.
Adela's apartment looks different when I arrive at seven.
Not physically — it's still the same bare dorm room. But the energy is different.
She's sitting at her desk when she lets me in, laptop open, a yellow legal pad covered in handwriting beside it. A timeline is sketched out across the top of the page, dates and events connected by arrows.
This mirrors something. The setup. The focus. The clinical approach to chaos.
It reminds me of Theo's desk.
"Hey," she says, gesturing for me to sit on the bed. "Thanks for coming."
I lower myself carefully onto the edge of her mattress, trying not to let my ribs show how much the movement hurts. "What's going on?"
She turns in her desk chair to face me, and I notice the dark circles under her eyes. She is exhausted, maybe not eating or drinking water. But she's not crying or falling apart. She's busy.
"I need you to walk me through everything you know about Cody's dad," she says without preamble.
Not can you help me. Not I'm scared. Just a direct request for information.
I lean back slightly. "Why would I know anything about his dad?”
She picks up a pen, ready to take notes. "Whoever moved Cody had leverage. I need to understand who has that kind of reach."
She looks at me when she says leverage, her eyes sharp and assessing.
Not accusing. Testing.
I hold her gaze, keeping my expression neutral. "I’m sorry, Adela. I don’t know a single thing about his dad or even his home life.”
“You’ve never seen his dad at a game?”
I shake my head. “The season just started. And even if I did, families are constantly in and out. It doesn’t mean I would meet his dad.”
She glares at me. “Judge Ravenshaw has a lot of connections. Political ones. Legal ones. He's been on the bench for fifteen years — that's a lot of favors traded."
I think carefully about what she’s saying. “Okay.”
"My dad’s the mayor," she says, staring at her paper.
I glance down for a second.
Is she considering her own father as a suspect?
Then she looks at me. "If this is bigger than Cody, I want to know now."
The words land heavily in the quiet room. Now, she’s suspecting me.
I should deflect. I should reassure her that it's just Cody’s family moving him for better healthcare.
