When lunch comes around, we sit undisturbed at our table. It's as if nothing happened the other day, the way no one speaks about it or even questions my sitting down with a tray of food. But something did happen, and it is evident with Emory avoiding my gaze, Atlas avoiding Yvonne's every touch and stare, and Yvonne's too wide of a smile. The cracks are subtle, but I spot them in this polished décor of a table.

Once again, Tave and Zain seem to have gotten in another fight. She isn't laughing at his jokes, and his smile doesn't reach his eyes.

On a normal day, I would've ignored it and let the elephant in the room sit uninterrupted. But the tension today makes me want to cringe and scream at the same time. What I would give to be sitting at a table with Marli alone.

"What is it this time?"

"What is what?" Zain grumbles.

"What is up with you guys?" I ask, the annoyance leaking into my voice. "You were fine the other day."

Zain purses her lips silently. Tave forks a pile of green lettuce.

"Can you guys just make up already? There's enough drama as—"

"Can you just stay out of it, Sage?" Zain snaps, taking me aback. "I don't ask about the weird tension between you and Theo or about any of the sneaking around and secrets you've been keeping. So, stay out of it will you?"

I stare at her, pressing my tongue to the roof of my mouth before I can say something I'll regret. Her words have a thick layer of truth beneath the impulsive, spur-of-a-moment rant, and I have to shake off the sting.

A flicker of guilt plays on her features, but she looks away, letting her hair curtain the side of her face.

"Zain," Tave mumbles in warning. "Lay off."

"No, you're right," I clear my throat. "It's not in my place to ask about your fights."

Theo has been staring at me the entire time, his scrutiny burning me, but he doesn't offer a look of condolence. Just an expressionless, studying gaze that I want to slap off his attractive face. Tave offers me an apologetic smile.

We sit in tense silence, the sounds of chatter from the other side of the table taking over.

"I'm sorry," Zain admits a minute later. "That was pretty harsh and totally uncalled for."

Her thick, wide brows furrow over candid eyes that stare expectantly at me, along with two other pairs of eyes that belong to Tave and Theo. I still want to be angry at her. But I'm already a very angry person, and soon enough, the grudges and ugly feelings inside will eat me up. I can't afford the extra baggage on top of everything—I'm tired.

I give her a tight-lipped smile. "It's alright."

"No, it isn't. I shouldn't have said that," she pushes. "I know I can be such a bitch sometimes."

I shift in my seat, uncomfortable. Her contrite sincerity is not something I'm used to from anyone, and it makes me feel like I'm put on a pedestal.

"Let's just forget it."

After lunch, Theo and I are paired together in our Physics class. My partner doesn't show up today, and Theo almost always works without a partner, silently but efficiently finishing his assignments. We work in comfortable silence, exchanging ideas until he speaks.

"She's not always like that. Zain, I mean," he muses, not looking up from his paper as he scribbles some notes. "But Tave's probably the only person that can make her act up like that."

"You don't have to defend her. I already forgot about it," I reply, flipping a page over—both figuratively and literally. "I get where she's coming from, I don't like to be pushed either."

When he starts to study me again, I look up at him and rest my chin on a closed fist, having had enough.

"What I don't get, though, is you," I say. His lips twitch in amusement. "You're always looking at me like that, like—"

"Like what?"

"Like you're trying to figure me out," I laugh dryly, "Like I'm some unknown species that you're trying to study. And I'd be offended by it if I hadn't known better, but you don't pity me or try to make me feel like an outsider, you just . . . Study me."

His eyebrows raise in surprise, and he lets out a deep laugh. The dimpled cheeks I caught a glimpse of in the Bronx appear again, and his eyes crease in the corners, taking me by surprise. The laugh is warm and short, and my lips curl involuntarily, all signs of irritation dissipating.

"What's so funny?"

He shakes his head. "It's just . . . You're one to talk. You think I'm bad? You spend every minute in this school watching everyone closely like they'll attack if you look away. You observe people."

"Can you blame me?" I scoff good-heartedly. "I wouldn't be surprised if Yvonne set me up for something the minute that I step out of this class."

"You're too paranoid." His lips lift in a semi-smile.

The teacher scolds us for being too loud, and we latch in another silence. But it lasts for a few minutes when I can't help but ask him about something that's been nagging at me the whole day.

"This morning, I asked you if I was doing the right thing," I start hesitantly, and he looks up, "You never answered me."

"If it's about doing the right thing, then we both know that you are. But that's not what you asked me." He leans closer. "You asked if I thought you were over your head."

"And am I?" This close, I can see the faint stubble on his tan cheeks.

"I think you underestimate yourself. And I don't know where it came from or who caused it, but you let the self-doubt get the best of you sometimes."

His words seem to hit the nail with every syllable that comes out of his lips. I feel bare and stripped of everything under his dark blue gaze. Playing with the pink rubber on my pencil, I laugh it off nervously. "And where'd you get that from?"

His eyes quickly scan my face before he finally leans back in his chair. "Why do you think I spend so much time watching you?"

I don't realize how much it harder it is to think properly with him so close until he leans back, and the words come easily. "You tell me."

A beat passes. "Because you fascinate me, Sage."

Before I can ask him anything else, the teacher warns us one last time. I get back to work, his words replaying in my head over and over again like the chorus of a song. By the end of the period, my sheet is filled with answers that I don't understand. I decide that my work with Theo should stay outside of school.

༺༻

My spoon chases the untouched peas around my plate. I catch a glimpse of my distorted reflection on the dull metal—muddled, dark features. At night, when the three of us sit sat at a table meant for four in our cramped dining area, the plain food looks even more unappetizing than it should.

The fourth chair sat empty for a month now, and so we should've grown used to it. Something painlessly gone, but you are painfully aware of it—like a missing limb.

"Tell me, baby," Mom asks softly, placing a tender hand on Roan's arm. The dim yellow lighting made her dark hair a cedar color. "How was school today?"

He wipes his nose messily, getting a bit of sauce on the bridge of his nose. "It was fine, mom. Like every other day you've asked me."

I kick him under the table. He narrows his eyes at me when she isn't looking.

"I showed them my science fair project," he adds quickly, "and I actually think I have a pretty good shot at making it in the honorable mentions this year."

Her eyes light up, the sight lifting the sting of guilt. It would nag at me when she'd miserably try to ignore our father's absence by shifting his seat away or engaging us in conversation. I hate him always, all the time, but in moments like this, I hate him more.

"What about you, honey?" she asks, turning her kind eyes to me. "Are you adjusted to your new school?"

I don't pause when I answer—there's no need for her to add my school dramatics to the list of things she has to worry about. The flickering light above us is enough. "Yes, Mom, I love it."

After pushing my food around for a little while longer, I excuse myself and go to my room. I try to sleep, blocking out Roan's enthusiastic screaming over the phone in our living room, but the walls are too thin. And my intrusive, nagging thoughts are even louder.

Huffing, I pull the covers off my body and grab the bundle of papers from under my bed. Making sure the door is locked, I spread them on the creaky wooden floors and sit against the bed.

I look carefully at all the information I've gathered since I've started my plan: two deaths, the first in June and the second in September; five deleted headlines that corresponded with secretive flights, all in the time frame between June and September. And meetings on the first Monday of every month.

With a jolt, I realize that the next meeting is next month. We already missed the first Monday of November. For now, I only have the fundraiser to act on if it's in David's house—I hope it is. We are only three months into this semester, but I feel the time ticking with every minute.

༺༻

That night I dream of Lucien. It's been a while since I've last seen him, and my heart leaps when I find his grinning face and blonde hair curling over his eyes. My knees collapse at the sight of him, wet dirt meets my shins. Everything is sluggish, and my movements are slowed like I'm moving under water. I catch sight of green, tall trees around me as I fall.

My vision is slanted so that everything becomes tilted. Legs walk to me until the person crouches. Lucien.

Oh, Lucien, he'll make everything better.

His gentle hands push the hair away from my face. The grin isn't on his face anymore. It's replaced by a cold sneer that ices my blood. My stomach twists in anticipation. Something is wrong. I can't move, can't talk.

"They're going to catch you, Sage. Run."

I suck in a breath and sit up straight, my heart pounding against my ribcage like a trapped hummingbird. I squeeze my eyes shut and will myself to breathe. But his haunting face appears behind my eyelids.

With trembling hands, I grab my phone from the bedside table and dial his number through blurry vision. I know I shouldn't call—this is a bad idea. But I just need to hear his voice, to detach the face I saw in my dreams with the kinder one I know so well.

The line rings three times as my shaky breathing fills up the quiet room.

"Hello?" He sounds panicked, but, still, hearing him spreads a blanket of warmth over me. "Sage? Is everything okay?"

"Lucien," my voice is thick and cracks at the last syllable. "I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't have called but things were rough, and I had a dream and . . ." My voice trails off. I can't explain the dream; it sounds silly now.

A low breath of relief travels over the phone. A few beats of silent static. "It's okay. Listen, I have to go now. But it'll be over soon. I'm coming home soon."

I grip the phone tighter. "Are you serious? Oh, my God. That's—how?"

"I'll explain later. Just . . . Take care of yourself. Goodbye, Sage."

The static cuts off with a disconnecting tone. I keep the phone to my ear for a little bit, letting the sound ring continuously until I put it away.

Pressing my head to the cool cotton of the pillow, I squeeze my eyes shut.

Lucien is coming home.

༺༻

A.N: Hey guys! This is one of my favorite song chapter titles! Can anyone figure out why <3