The morning sun washed over Ridgewood High in pale gold, but the halls felt colder than ever. Word spread like wildfire after last night's fire‐alarm fiasco and the inexplicable disappearance of Kai Donner. Rumors flew faster than students could whisper—none of them kind.
Tuesday – Hallway Buzz
Amaya threaded through the crowded corridor, clutching her sketchbook to her chest. Every passing glance felt like a blade.
"Did you hear? They say she nearly killed him last night."
"Yasmine Alina's totally unhinged."
"They found Kai bleeding near the park—must've been poisoned or something."
Amaya's stomach churned. She slowed to a stop outside her locker, forcing herself to breathe. None of it was true. But no one at Ridgewood cared about facts anymore.
She flinched as a group of juniors sauntered past, eyes fixed on Yasmine's empty seat in art club.
"They're saying she's in witness protection now—who knows what her real story is."
"Probably an international assassin. You trust anyone named Alina?"
Amaya closed her locker and pushed past, her head held high despite the crushing weight around her.
Art Club – After School
The club room lay silent. The only sound was the soft hum of the overhead light. Amaya slipped inside and found Yasmine sitting at the old oak table, eyes downcast, fingers tracing the rim of her discarded coffee cup.
"Hey," Amaya whispered, taking a seat. "They're saying crazy stuff."
Yasmine looked up, silver eyes haunted. "I heard."
Amaya leaned forward. "I don't care what they say." She paused, choosing her words. "I know what happened. You saved him—literally."
Yasmine's lips quivered. "I… I don't know why I let go of the mission."
Amaya reached out, placing her hand over Yasmine's. "You did the right thing."
A moment of peace passed between them. But even in that quiet, the world outside pressed closer.
Cafeteria – Lunch
Amaya sat with Lacey and two of their cheer squad friends. The noise was merciless.
"Yasmine wasn't even in class today," one of them said, stirring her pasta.
"Some say she's hiding in the nurse's office."
"Gross. I saw Kai—he came in with Mrs. Rivera, looking like hell."
Mrs. Rivera—Amaya's mother—sat at the principal's table surveying the room. Amaya caught her eye; her mother offered a small, reassuring nod. It was the only steady thing in the cafeteria.
Amaya forced a smile. "Katie, could you pass the salt?" she said, her voice calm.
Katie, surprised, obeyed. The table fell silent. Lacey leaned in. "You okay with me putting cheer practice on hold if you want to skip today?"
Amaya shook her head. "No. I'll be fine."
Still, her heart pounded.
Yasmine's POV – Unwanted Spotlight
By mid-afternoon, security footage had leaked to social media. Phone screens showed shaky video of the smoke-filled east wing hallway, an agitated Amaya leading a disoriented Kai down the stairs, Yasmine trailing behind like a specter.
Comments scrolled endlessly:
"Why is the principal's daughter conspiring with a mystery girl?"
"He's cute—should've let her finish the job."
"This is straight out of a spy movie."
Yasmine closed her eyes. She could still taste the acrid smoke, hear the sirens, feel Amaya's hand guiding her. She pushed the phone away and opened her sketchbook. Blank pages stared back at her.
She flipped to find the page where she'd drawn Amaya's face last night—eyes bright, hopeful. The graphite felt too soft, too fragile. She ripped the page out and folded it into tiny squares. Then she tucked the scraps into her pocket.
She needed to disappear. No more sketches. No more art club. No more risk.
That Evening – Amaya's House
Amaya found Yasmine at her doorstep just as dusk settled. Yasmine's backpack hung limply on one shoulder, her uniform rumpled, hair tangled.
"Going somewhere?" Amaya asked softly.
Yasmine shook her head. "I can't stay here anymore."
"You have to," Amaya said firmly. "It's not safe—no, it's the safest place you have."
Yasmine's eyes glistened. "All they want is a story. They'll tear us apart."
Amaya took both Yasmine's hands. "Let them talk. You're not alone."
Yasmine swallowed, fighting tears. "I thought… I could lose myself in this mission. But I found something I never expected."
Amaya's voice caught. "Me?"
Yasmine nodded. "You."
They stood in the twilight, two hearts beating against the world's noise.
Late Night – Ridgewood Park
Unable to sleep, Amaya wandered to their bench by the pond. She cradled a thermos of tea, reminding herself that Yasmine was safe—for now.
But distance weighed heavily. The rumors, the fear, the uncertainty: it all felt like a wall growing between them.
Amaya closed her eyes, remembering Yasmine's soft promise: "I promise." She opened them, staring at their reflection in the water: two shapes melding into one in the ripples.
Rumors can't take her away from me, she thought.
Behind her, footsteps approached. She turned—and saw Yasmine, drawing the bench's worn wood grain in her sketchbook.
"You're still here," Amaya said.
Yasmine shrugged. "I couldn't stay away."
Amaya sat beside her and nudged the sketchbook. "Can I see?"
Yasmine hesitated, then turned the pad so Amaya could see. It was a sketch of the two of them on that same bench—Amaya's head resting on Yasmine's shoulder. It captured the warmth between them, the fragile peace they'd forged.
Amaya's breath caught. "It's beautiful."
Yasmine's voice was small. "I wanted to capture something real… before they rewrite our story."
Amaya closed the sketchbook and held it to her chest. "No one can rewrite ours."
They sat together in the darkness, listening to the pond's soft sighs—two friends who had nothing left to lose except each other.