“I don’t need a plan to do that. I just... have a lot on my plate right now.”
They fell into step and headed back to the folding table.
Quin didn’t speak again until they’d settled in, maybe sensing her mood. An underclassman in hockey gear dropped two crumpled bills into the donation box, grabbed a brownie, and vanished.
“Well, whatever it is,” Quin said at last, “you don’t have to carry all of it, you know.”
Riya straightened a stack of Talent Show flyers. “Why do you assume I can’t handle it?”
“My gut.” Quin tucked their hands in their pockets. “I get it from my mom.”
“Your mom?”
Quin rarely mentioned family. Riya half convinced herselfthey’d sprouted from the ground one day like an obnoxious sunflower.
“She runs a little bookstore downtown,” Quin said breezily. “Underwood Books—ever heard of it?”
Julia. That soft certainty in her voice. The warm, metallic shimmer in her eyes.
Sowhatever happens, don’t let go.
Riya hadn’t thought to connect the dots—but now, staring at Quin, it seemed obvious
“I’ve been there,” Riya said, dazed. “You never told me.”
Quin smiled, slippery as water over glass. “Well, you never asked.”
Riya stared down at the flyers in her hands, suddenly aware of how tightly she was holding them. She’d worked with Quin on Student Council for almost two months now—bickered with them, planned events with them, endured their relentless commentary—and never once asked for more. She’d let the glibness deflect anything deeper.
Just like she’d never really asked Kian anything. Not until the curse forced her to look closer.
How many other people had she brushed past like scenery, never slowing down long enough to take in the whole picture? How many full and fascinating lives had she dismissed without ever truly seeing?
They sat in companionable silence as the fundraiser wound down. Cookies disappearing. Students trickling home.
Riya reached for her tote bag and turned, only for thestrap to catch on the edge of the table. She stumbled—just a half step. Quin reached out, catching her elbow to steady her.
It was nothing. Just a reflex. But they held on a beat longer than necessary to make sure she’d regained her balance.
“Careful,” they said, releasing her with a light pat. “No concussing yourself on my watch.”
Riya managed a weak smile.
And that was when she saw him.
Kian. Standing at the edge of the hallway, still as a shadow.
Her stomach plummeted. From a distance, it must have looked like Quin had been holding her.
“Wait, Kian—” she tried, already pulling away.
But he stepped back like she’d struck him. And then he ran.
“Shit,” she breathed, and tore after him.
Riya chased Kian past the bleachers and across the track field, toward the forest where Oppy the cat lived.
“Kian!” she shouted.
