The room went from eerie to noisy in half a second. I shoved my notebook into my bag and stood quickly, eager to disappear into the crowd.

I had just stepped into the hallway when someone blocked my path.

The redhead from outside was leaning against the wall on one hand, half obstructing the passage. She looked almost as if she had been waiting for me. Slowly, her eyes slid over my body, measuring me from head to toe.

"New girl," she said, her voice sweet in a way that wasn't kind. "You seem to be lost."

"I'm fine, thank you," I said, and hated how thin my voice sounded.

She licked her lips. "Didn't anyone explain the rules around here to you?"

I didn't bother masking the scowl on my face. "What rules? You know what, just let me pass." I tried to move around her, but she shifted just enough to stay in my way.

Up close, I caught her scent, something sharp and damp, like wet earth after rain. Her gaze flicked to my throat, then back to my eyes, and my stomach tightened.

"A little advice, little lamb," she said softly, as if doing me a favor. She leaned closer, her voice lowering, her smile sharpening. "Don't wander off alone."

Heat rose in my chest. "Excuse me? What is that supposed to mean?"

"Enough," a voice cut in.

Nell appeared at my side as if she had stepped out of the wall. She didn't touch me, but the space around her seemed to cool.

The redhead's smile faltered. "Oh," she said. "It's the young princess."

Nell didn't blink. "Move."

The redhead's eyes flashed. "You don't get to order me around."

"Guess again," Nell said, her voice steady. "Step away."

For a beat, the redhead held her stare, as if deciding whether to push. I felt the hallway thin around us, students pretending not to watch while absolutely watching.

Then a hand landed on the wall beside the redhead's head, close enough to cage her without touching.

It was the late boy from math class.

He looked exactly as he had earlier, calm, almost bored, except his eyes were colder up close, focused on the redhead like she was a problem he had already solved once before.

"Move," he said.

The word hung in the air with finality.

The redhead stiffened. The smugness on her face cracked, and something else slipped through, something almost eager. Her eyes flicked over his face, as if her body reacted before her brain could stop it.

"Ethan," she said, her voice softer now, almost sickly sweet. "We were just talking."

Ethan didn't react. Not an eyebrow moved.

"You were blocking the way," he said. "And bothering her."

"I'm allowed to talk to people," she said, forcing a small laugh.

Ethan's eyes stayed on hers. "Not like that. And not to her."

Her cheeks colored faintly. She shifted her weight, trying to turn it playful.

"Fine," she said, but she didn't move.

Ethan's gaze didn't change. "Now."

That did it.

Reluctantly, as if peeling herself away, she stepped aside and walked off. As she passed Ethan, her shoulder brushed against his, the gesture too deliberate to be accidental.

She paused half a step away, waiting.

Ethan didn't move or look at her.

After a beat, she walked off, disappearing into the flow of students.

I stood there, my heart hammering, like I had just stepped back from the edge of a cliff.

Nell let out a breath.

Ethan's gaze shifted to me in a quick assessment, as if checking for damage. The look was almost clinical, until something flickered behind it. His pupils widened a fraction, and his breath hitched so subtly I might have imagined it. His nostrils flared once, then stilled.

Nell noticed immediately. I felt it in the air before I saw it. Her posture tightened, her throat bobbed up and down like she'd just confirmed a suspicion she wished she didn't have.

She stepped half a pace in front of me, not touching me, but blocking a line of Ethan's sight of me.

"I didn't ask you to step in," she said.

Ethan looked at her slowly. The air between them crackled.

"She was escalating," he said.

"I had it," Nell replied.

Ethan's mouth twitched. "You were letting it become a scene."

"I was handling it." She closed the distance between them. "And you know what it looks like when you step in on me."

Ethan's eyes sharpened. "I don't care what it looks like."

Nell's voice stayed controlled, but the words came tighter. "You should. You're not the one Dad assigned."

Ethan blinked once. "I know."

"Then let me do my job."

Ethan's gaze flicked past her, scanning the hallway like he was tracking movement I couldn't see. Then he looked back at Nell.

"Do it better," he said quietly, then turned and walked away.

For a second, I thought Nell might snap at him. Instead, she smoothed her expression into practiced neutrality.

"Lunch time," she said to me. "Come on."

I followed, because walking alone suddenly felt like a mistake.

"You and that guy in the hallway... You know each other?" I asked, trying to match her pace.

"He's my brother." She answered, offering no further explanation.

As we walked, I felt eyes on my back. They weren't openly hostile. They were cautious. Assessing.

And the redhead wasn't the only one who looked at me that way.

****

The cafeteria hit me like a brick to the head.

Not the noise, though it was loud enough, layered laughter, metal scraping against linoleum, a full cacophony of voices. It was the smell.

It wasn't the normal cafeteria smell. The air assaulted my nose with iron, salt, and something that reminded me of wet dog food. I nearly gagged.

I stood near the entrance holding a tray, briefly considering dropping it and leaving. I knew that would draw even more attention, so I swallowed and walked in, searching for a place to sit.

Some tables were packed, some half full, and one or two were empty in a way that felt reserved.

Nell hovered at my side, close enough to be present, far enough not to touch. Her eyes swept the room with the controlled focus she wore like armor.

"Over there," she said, nodding toward a small table near the far wall. "That's our spot."

The table was empty, but it didn't look like a seat waiting for someone. It looked like space left empty on purpose.

I dropped onto the bench, and Nell lowered herself beside me, her shoulder angled just enough to cut off half my peripheral vision.

I set my tray down and stared at something resembling stew. It took me a moment to realize it was the source of the cafeteria's stench.

I kept my face neutral and lifted my fork like a person having a normal lunch, even as nausea built. The meat was undercooked and chewy, floating in a thin, watery broth that had never known vegetables.

I was so focused on the plate that I almost missed when a cluster of girls across the room went quiet.

One of them, blonde with icy blue eyes, turned her head slowly and looked straight at me. She didn't look away when I met her gaze for half a second. She held it, lips pressed thin, as if daring me to exist.

Nell's fingers tapped near my hand. I dropped my eyes.

"Eat," she murmured, as if the word mattered more than my pride.

"I can't eat this," I objected, but before Nell could answer, a boy at a nearby table turned to look straight at me. He smiled, showing two rows of perfect white teeth. A brunette beside him tugged his sleeve sharply and shot me a murderous glare.

Nell lightly slapped my upper arm.

"Don't look around," she said quietly. "Just eat."

"Hey," I snapped, although I kept my voice quiet. "I don't care who you are or what you were told to do, you don't get to order me around."

Several people near us flinched. The cafeteria went silent, every pair of eyes fixed on us, and I felt, with gut certainty, that I had crossed some invisible line.

Nell looked at me with a cold, sharp stare, her lips pressed together, her expression unreadable. The silence between us pulled taut like a wire.

Someone slid into the seat across from us without asking. A boy with sandy hair, broad shoulders, and a sharp smile leaned forward like we were old friends.

"Hey," he said, his voice low. "You're that Blackwell girl, right?"

Before I could answer, Nell's eyes snapped to him. "Move."

He smiled wider, clearly amused. "Relax. I'm just being welcoming."

"Move," Nell repeated, her tone unchanged.

He didn't.

Instead, he leaned closer, his eyes flicking over me as if trying to place me, to categorize something he couldn't quite name. The corner of his mouth twitched, not friendly.

"You smell like the city," he said, his nostrils flaring as if he couldn't help it.

My throat tightened. For a moment the room seemed to spin, walls closing in.

Nell's posture shifted, spine snapping straight. "Get up," she said, voice low.

The boy's smile sharpened. "You don't get to tell me what to do."

Nell held his gaze, unblinking. "I just did."

For a beat, the air between them charged, the same brittle tension as in the hallway earlier, only now it was public. People were watching openly now.

From the girls' table, a sharp laugh bubbled up. The blonde leaned toward her friend and whispered something, eyes never leaving me.

Heat flooded my face, anger and embarrassment mixing into something ugly.

The cafeteria doors opened.

Ethan walked in.

His gaze narrowed immediately on our table. He crossed the room in calm, purposeful steps, eyes fixed on the boy across from me, who went very still.

Ethan stopped beside him. "Get up," he said.

The boy scoffed, trying to save face. "What, you saving seats now?"

Ethan didn't blink. "Stand up and walk away."

The boy's eyes darted around, searching for backup, for an audience. One by one, they looked away.

He swallowed, stood, and backed off with stiff, forced casualness. "Whatever."

He left quickly.

Ethan turned his head slightly, scanning the girls' table. The blonde's gaze dropped instantly.

My pulse kicked hard against my ribs.

Ethan sat across from us, tray in hand, like the seat had always been his. The air between us seemed to thicken, shaping into invisible fingers that reached deep into my personal space. It was an awareness that prickled at my skin that brought both anxiety and comfort.

He didn't look at me. He looked at Nell.

"You're getting swarmed," he said.

Nell's jaw tightened. "I had it."

"You were letting it build," Ethan replied, his tone flat. "Again."

Nell's fingers tightened around her fork. She didn't eat. She didn't pretend to.

"This is not your assignment," she said quietly.

Ethan's mouth twitched. "It is if it prevents things from escalating."

"That's not how this works."

Ethan leaned back. "It's exactly how it works."

He nudged my plate. "Eat."

"I can't," I snapped. "It's disgusting."

Ethan's gaze dropped to my tray. For a split second, something flickered behind his eyes, irritation not at me, but at the situation itself.

"Then pretend," he said.

"Why?"

His attention snapped to a nearby table where the same boy from earlier was leaning sideways, watching me again. His friends snickered. The brunette beside him clenched her jaw.

"Hey," he said, too casually. "What's it like being, you know," he tilted his head, "different?"

Nell didn't turn. "Shut up."

The boy grinned. "Or what?"

Ethan's chair scraped just enough to signal movement.

The boy went quiet immediately and turned back to his food.

I leaned toward Nell, my voice barely audible. "Why are you doing this? Following me, sitting with me, telling me what to do?"

Nell's jaw clenched. "Because my father told me to."

I frowned. "You always do what your dad tells you?"

Her expression didn't waver. "Of course."

It was a strange response from a sixteen-year-old, but then again, nothing about her was what would be considered normal for a girl her age.

"And Ethan?"

Her gaze flicked to her brother, eyes narrowing into something resembling suspicion.

Ethan didn't look at either of us. He kept watching the room like a guard on duty.

And I sat between them, unable to eat, pretending to understand the rules of a world I'd never agreed to enter.

The longer I stayed, the more I felt like the entire cafeteria was waiting for me to misstep. And the worst part wasn't that I didn't know the rules. It was the creeping certainty I'd somehow already broken them.