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A black raven landed in one of the windows next to us and Bayla jerked to the side, which made me grin and forget for a moment that we hadn't been able to find out any new information about Alice for a month.

“Rightly so,” came a serious voice from the side corridor before Julie, whose heartbeat I had already heard – something I normally blocked out completely around here because actively listening to a thousand heartbeats gave me a headache and made my own heart race – stepped out of the shadows. “You must seem like a spy.”

“Julie...” Bayla gasped, stumbling backward and tripping over a raised stone, so that I had to hold her shoulder to keep her from losing her balance. “Oh my God,” she half-whispered, her warm human breath rising in a white, barely visible cloud. “What are you doing here?”

Julie's blank expression disappeared and she smiled, which made me smile too.

“You two texted the group that you wanted to meet up.”

She stepped completely out of the shadows, dressed in white suit pants and a white blouse with a built-in corset around her waist that minimally concealed her baby bump.

“Bayla.” Julie focused on Bay as she straightened her light gray leather backpack. “You have to investigate him. We need this information.”

Bayla nodded, and knowing her, she wanted the information as soon as possible too.

A loud roar sounded from the end of the hallway. Clearly that Senseque, Noah Schmidt.

And if he was nearby, Nash and the others weren't far away either.

“Shit, the Copelands,” Bayla sighed and stepped back from us. “I have to go to my philosophy lecture anyway.”

She smiled, and I noticed one of her light brown strands of hair was hanging halfway across her face, and there was a damn blueberry stain on her blouse.

Alone In This World

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She really tried very hard to be neat and inconspicuous, but my bestie was a mess, just like when I had first met her on that playground in elementary school. And as always, she tried to get to her lectures on time, but still always arrived late. Just like in high school, where she had rarely been on time for class.

Two years ago, she’d gone through a strange phase where she hadn’t quite been herself. She’d often been late, had suddenly run to the bathroom, and I’d even thought she might be pregnant. But it had always just been those weird panic attacks she’d never wanted to talk about. They’d stopped sometime before we’d graduated.

If one didn't really know Bayla, one would quickly see the quiet, unnoticeable wallflower who hid behind books, loved boring old things, and ran away from dangers and trouble.

But I’d grown up with her, had gotten to know the rascal who’d always scraped her knees on the playground because she’d played too rough, who’d poured chili powder into the annoying boys’ gym clothes and had played pranks on teachers, and who had never followed the playground rules to the point that Diana always had to show up at school, where she’d blame me for Bay’s behavior.

I was sure Bay would be a tough cookie by now if she hadn’t fallen off that huge jungle gym when she had been eight or something. She hadn’t broken anything, but she had bumped her head lightly against a bicycle that had been standing right there.

The teachers had rushed her to the hospital, and everything had been okay. Except that Diana had forbidden her from playing with me for two fucking weeks.

Ever since then, Bay was different. Quieter, more reserved, avoidant, and easy to scare. As if she hadn't fallen into soft sand but ten miles deep into hell.

And one more thing. Ever since then, she had this strangely long scar under her breast, even though I was sure she hadn’t even bled that day.

To this day, she insisted it had been the accident, which, by the way, she has no memory of, and once she even told me it had been a goddamn bicycle accident and not a climbing accident, as if I hadn’t been there.

Ever since then, the mistrust I felt toward Diana never went away. She had always been there for Bay and had supported her financially. But that strange scar, all the times Bay had withdrawn, those weird panic attacks, and the goddamn pills she’d suddenly had to start taking – not to mention the fact that Bay never talked about any of these things and looked at me as if I were nuts whenever I mentioned them – made my paranoia about Diana skyrocket every single time.

But maybe my memories were just completely messed up. After all, I’d only been nine.

Office Talk

Christopher Tyng

I looked at my best friend, trying to see the lively child she used to be, but so much had changed.

Bayla looked a little lost but managed to give us both one last look.

“I'll keep you updated.”