The midday heat was suffocating. Claire's friends had just wrapped up their PE drills under the blazing sun, their laughter and shouts still echoing across the field. But Claire, who had been lingering in the gym longer than the rest, chose to sit this one out. Her muscles still ached from the grueling challenge Mr. Rooney had thrown at her.
She glanced around. Everyone else was still caught up in their own worlds, launching balls at the goal, shouting, laughing—too busy to notice her.
She slipped away to the locker room, craving the coolness inside. All she wanted was a towel, maybe two, to wipe the sweat clinging to her skin. But when she swung open her locker, her breath caught in her throat.
There, taped to the inside, was a sheet of paper. Thick red marker slashed across it:
"Hey Claire, wanna tumble down the stairs again? Hahaa."
Her heart stopped. A cold shiver cut through the heat, turning her limbs to jelly. She stood frozen for a second, then gripped the locker door to steady herself. Her eyes flicked wildly around the empty room.
Nothing. No shadows lurking. No footsteps retreating. Just silence.
Her chest tightened. This was the second note. The first had appeared in the library—anonymous, cruel. And now this, here. In the one place she thought she could breathe.
Should I tell Sam? The thought hit her hard. Sam would know what to do. Sam always did. Maybe she could even track down whoever was behind this sick game. But when Claire checked after class, Sam's seat was empty. Out today, someone had said.
Tomorrow, Claire told herself. I'll tell him everything tomorrow.
But the questions wouldn't stop. Did I get threats like this before? She scraped through her memories but found nothing. Back then, things had been different. She still ran with Tasya. Still played queen bee, mocking the weak, picking apart anyone who fell short—anyone she didn't like.
Did everything start to unravel when I left Tasya?
Her mind was a storm now—dark and tangled. And tomorrow night, she was supposed to meet Randy at that restaurant he'd chosen. She'd let him handle all the details. She didn't care if it was a fancy spot or just some café. Not now. Not after this.
Even when she got back to her dorm, the note burned in her thoughts. She dropped onto her bed, still in her sweaty gym clothes, too numb to move.
Maybe… maybe the only way out is to end this version of me. To let the old Claire die… and be reborn as someone else. Someone free.
The thought lingered, dark and heavy, as the sun dipped below the horizon.
The next evening, Claire stood in front of her mirror, trying to decide what to wear. Her hands moved on autopilot—curling her hair, dabbing a hint of colour on her lips—but her mind was elsewhere. The note in her locker still gnawed at her thoughts like a splinter she could not pull out.
She grabbed her black dress—the simple one, clean lines, no frills. It made her feel hidden, like armor. As she slipped it on, her phone buzzed. A message from Randy.
Randy:
"Almost there! Can't wait to see you. This place is awesome, Claire, you are gonna love it."
She stared at the message for a beat too long, then forced her fingers to type back.
Claire:
"On my way."
Her heart wasn't in it. But she owed him this. She needed normal, even if it felt like slipping on a mask.
The restaurant was tucked away in a corner of the city she rarely visited—upscale but cozy, with dim lighting and soft jazz curling through the air. Randy spotted her the second she walked in, his face lighting up as he stood and waved her over like they hadn't seen each other in years.
"Claire!" he beamed. "Wow, you look… amazing."
She managed a small smile. "Hi, Randy. You look nice too."
He pulled out her chair for her, still grinning like this was the best night of his life. "Man, I've been looking forward to this all week. Finally, just you and me. No school, no noise." He chuckled. "Just us and some overpriced pasta, right?"
Claire's lips twitched. "Sounds perfect."
But even as she said it, her eyes kept flicking to the windows, the door, the shadows that seemed a little too long. She couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching.
Randy leaned in, oblivious. "So tell me—what's going on with you? You've been kinda… distant lately. Everything cool?"
Her throat tightened. Should she tell him? About the notes, the sick joke someone was playing? About how every time she closed her eyes, she saw herself tumbling down stairs that never seemed to end?
But she swallowed it down. Not yet. Not here.
"Just tired," she said softly, picking at the edge of her napkin. "School's been a lot."
Randy's smile softened. "Yeah, I get that. But hey, you're here now. And tonight, let's just forget all that crap, yeah?"His warmth was real. His excitement, genuine.
Claire let Randy's story about getting lost drift into the background, her fingers still fidgeting with the hem of her napkin. She took a slow breath and forced her tone to sound casual, light.
"So… I heard Diana is your cousin?" she asked, keeping her eyes on the glass of water in front of her.
Randy blinked, caught off guard. "Diana? Yeah. Technically." He made a face, like the word tasted sour. "Second cousin or something. Our parents like to throw around the 'family' word because they do business together."
Claire's fingers stilled. "You two close?"
Randy let out a short laugh. "Not really. We see each other at family stuff sometimes—those boring dinners where everyone pretends to like each other. But nah, she's not exactly my favorite person."
Claire lifted her gaze, studying him. "Why not?"
He shrugged, swirling the ice in his drink. "She's... fake. Always playing nice in front of the adults but super sharp behind their backs. Acts like she owns the room. And honestly? I think she's been weird ever since that whole Miko thing."
Claire's heart gave a small jolt. "Miko?"
Randy leaned back in his chair, lowering his voice. "Yeah. You know he used to have this big crush on you, right? Like, obvious to everyone. Diana hated that. She's always been jealous when the attention's not on her."
Claire's throat felt dry. She reached for her water but only sipped enough to wet her lips. "I didn't know it was that bad."
Randy snorted. "Oh, it was. She made these snide little comments about you every time Miko's name came up. Kept acting like you thought you were better than everyone else." He rolled his eyes. "Typical Diana drama."
Claire tried to keep her face neutral, but her mind was racing. The notes. The threats. Was it Diana?
"Has she ever… done anything?" Claire asked carefully, testing the waters. "Like, beyond just talking?"
Randy's eyes narrowed slightly, studying her now. "Why? Did something happen?"
Claire shook her head a little too quickly. "No, just—curious. I ran into her the other day, and it felt… tense."
Randy snorted again, leaning forward. "Yeah, well, trust me. If you're getting weird vibes from Diana, you're not imagining it. She's always got some hidden agenda. And honestly? I only put up with her because my dad would have a fit if I didn't. Business, family, blah blah." He waved a hand dismissively.
Claire's stomach twisted. She forced a thin smile. "Good to know."
Randy grinned again, oblivious to the storm building behind her eyes. "Anyway, forget her. Tonight's supposed to be fun, yeah? Come on, Claire, lighten up. We got dessert coming, and I swear, it's the best tiramisu you'll ever have."
Claire nodded, but her mind was already elsewhere, pieces clicking into place.
Diana. Miko. The jealousy. The timing.
And suddenly, the restaurant's warm, golden lights felt too bright—like a spotlight exposing her every thought.
Dinner went on, with Randy doing most of the talking—telling jokes, sharing stories about school drama, and hyping up the dessert like it was the highlight of the night. Claire managed to smile here and there, to laugh at the right moments, but her thoughts stayed tangled beneath the surface.
When they finally finished, Randy flagged down the waiter for the check and leaned back with a satisfied sigh.
"Told you that tiramisu was unbeatable," he said, flashing her a bright grin. "Best decision I made all week."
Claire smiled faintly. "Yeah. It was good." Her voice was soft, but Randy didn't seem to notice.
Outside, the night air was cooler, the city lights flickering against the dark sky. Randy walked beside her, hands in his pockets, keeping pace without rushing.
"I'll take you home," he said casually. "Not letting you go back alone at this hour."
Claire glanced at him. "It's okay, Randy. I can—"
He cut her off with a playful scoff. "Claire. Come on. What kind of guy do you think I am? Besides, I don't mind. Gives me an excuse to stretch my legs after all that food." He grinned. "Let's go."
"Hop in," he said, opening the passenger door for her. "No way I'm letting you take a cab or walk this late. My treat. Chauffeur service, free of charge." He grinned.
Claire slid into the seat without argument. "Thanks… really."
Randy rounded the car and slid behind the wheel, starting the engine with a low rumble. As they pulled out of the lot, the city lights blurred past, casting fleeting golden reflections inside the car.
The ride was mostly quiet. Randy had the radio on low—some mellow song playing—and for once, he wasn't filling the silence with chatter. Maybe he could feel her mood. Or maybe he was just content, tapping the steering wheel lightly to the beat.
Claire sat back, watching the streets roll by, but her thoughts kept circling back—Diana's name, Miko, the notes, the cold chill that had settled in her chest and wouldn't leave.
"You okay?" Randy asked suddenly, glancing over at her as they paused at a red light. His voice was softer now, almost careful.
When they finally reached to Claire's house, Randy pulled up right to the front and parked. He turned to her, his face lit softly by the dashboard lights.
"Here we are. Home sweet home," he said, grinning.
Claire unbuckled her seatbelt but lingered a moment. "Thanks, Randy. For tonight. For... everything."
He gave a small shrug, like it was nothing. "Anytime, Claire. Seriously. You ever need anything, just call, alright?"
"I will," she said quietly.
Randy waited until she was safely inside the house before he drove off, giving a small, casual wave through the window.
Inside, Claire leaned against the door for a moment, breathing out slowly. The night was quiet, and for once, she felt the tension in her chest loosen just a little.
Safe, at least for tonight.
But somewhere in the back of her mind, a small voice whispered:
For how long? But deep down, she knew—the real storm hadn't even started yet.