The shift in the school's atmosphere was subtle, but Lottie felt it ripple under her skin like a cold current. As she moved through the halls, her senses sharpened—the catch in a voice just behind her, the too-quick snap of a locker door, the flicker of eyes sliding away when she looked up. Every detail pressed into her awareness like pins against glass, sharp, precise, inevitable.
Amy rushed to her side, cheeks pink and breath uneven, shoes squeaking faintly on the tile as she caught up. "Lottie," she whispered, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear, "I heard Evelyn's group talking near the stairwell. They're planning something. I—I couldn't catch everything, but it didn't sound good." Her fingers twisted in the strap of her bag, nails whitening at the tips.
Lottie gave her a slow, measured smile, one that didn't quite touch her eyes. "They never do," she murmured. Her fingers drifted to the edge of her phone, a quiet reassurance as the cool metal pressed against her palm. The vibration of another incoming message pulsed against her skin, a soft, insistent warning, but she didn't look at it yet. Timing was everything.
Amy's throat worked as she swallowed, glancing nervously down the corridor. "Should we—should we tell someone?" she asked, voice pitched higher, barely a thread of sound. "Maybe a teacher, or—"
"No," Lottie said softly, her tone a blade wrapped in silk. "We listen."
From the periphery, Leo leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his grin lazy but his eyes sharp as they tracked the shifting currents of the hallway. The light from the window cast a pale stripe across his cheekbone, catching the edge of his smirk. He straightened slightly when Lottie's gaze flicked toward him, offering the faintest lift of a brow, his mouth curving in an almost imperceptible smirk.
He ambled over, the heels of his shoes whispering against the floor. "It's getting noisy in here," he murmured, voice low, a half-laugh curling around the words. "You feel it, don't you?" His shoulder brushed lightly against hers, a featherweight touch that sent a ripple of awareness through her chest, anchoring her in the present moment.
"I do," Lottie replied, her own voice cool, controlled. But her heart had begun a restless staccato against her ribs, a hummingbird flutter caged in bone. Beneath the even cadence of her words was a thrum of tension she kept locked down, carefully folded beneath skin and breath.
Evelyn emerged from the stairwell, a vision of polished grace—hair smooth, uniform impeccable, lips curved in a smile so perfect it was nearly blinding. But Lottie's eyes caught the faintest hitch, the fractional tightness at the corner of Evelyn's mouth, the brittle gleam in her eyes that no amount of poise could fully conceal.
"She's coming back swinging," Leo murmured, angling his body just slightly toward Lottie, his breath a whisper against her ear.
"She always does," Lottie replied, her voice soft but sure, a ghost of steel running beneath the silk.
The subtle shift in their classmates' behavior was like watching a tide turn. Lottie noted the sudden hush when she entered a room, the wary glances exchanged across desks, the way even teachers hesitated a beat too long when calling on her. The social quicksand was shifting, and Evelyn was stirring it with delicate, invisible fingers.
Amy clutched her books tighter to her chest. "They're spreading something," she whispered. "Little things—about the test, about you and Leo—" her words stumbled, the tips of her ears turning red. "It's working."
A chill prickled down Lottie's spine, sharp and precise. She drew in a slow breath, exhaling through parted lips as she steadied herself, letting the rush of cold anger smooth into calculation. The air tasted faintly metallic, charged, like the static before a storm.
"Let her play," Lottie murmured, brushing a hand over Amy's arm in a brief, grounding touch. Her fingers were cool, almost cold, but her grip was steady, and Amy flinched only slightly at the sensation.
Leo's laugh was a soft rumble, low in his throat. "Ice queen's got teeth," he teased under his breath, a glimmer of approval sparking in his gaze as his eyes danced over her expression.
A sudden hush rolled through the hallway, heads turning as Evelyn swept past, her laugh like the ring of glass bells, brittle at the edges. For a moment, Lottie felt the air compress, a tight band around her chest, and then—
A chill.
It started at the base of her neck, a prickling shiver that slid down her spine, threading through her bones like a whispered warning. Lottie froze, her breath catching in her throat as the familiar, eerie sensation bloomed in her chest.
The Mislead Pulse stirred.
She closed her eyes, just for a heartbeat, centering herself as the world sharpened to a thin, piercing edge. The distant scrape of shoes on tile became the crack of a whip; the rustle of papers a windstorm just outside her skin.
Leo's voice barely reached her, muffled, distant. "Lottie?"
But she was already slipping inward, feeling the tremor of energy gathering at the fringes of her awareness. Evelyn's smile flickered—not outwardly, but within the delicate latticework of her power, a ripple that signaled the start of her Foresight Flash.
Lottie's heart slammed once, hard, and the Pulse flared.
A flicker of an image—a book dropping, a stumble, a slip of words. Lottie exhaled slowly, palms cool against her sides, and fed the false signal into the stream, a single, deliberate lie woven into the truth Evelyn sought.
She felt Evelyn flinch across the room, just a twitch of tension in her shoulders, her fingers curling slightly where they rested on the strap of her bag. Lottie's lips curved in a slow, deliberate smile, small enough to be mistaken for a private thought, sharp enough to be a blade.
Amy tugged at her sleeve, voice anxious, eyes darting. "Lottie? Are you okay?"
"Better than okay," Lottie murmured, opening her eyes, the glint in her gaze sharp enough to cut. She could feel the Pulse retreating, leaving a faint ache in her chest, a whisper of exhaustion that she swept aside with the ease of practice. She rolled her shoulders once, letting the tension bleed out in a slow ripple.
Leo stepped closer, voice pitched low with an undercurrent of amusement. "What did you just do?"
"Nothing," Lottie said smoothly, brushing past him with the barest trace of a smile, the scent of her shampoo trailing like a whisper in the air between them. "And everything."
Evelyn's friends hesitated, their laughter faltering, eyes darting between Evelyn and the girl she watched with thinly veiled tension. Evelyn's posture stiffened, her polished smile slipping half a breath before she caught it, eyes flickering with something rawer—something that tasted like doubt.
Amy shot Lottie a wide-eyed, nervous glance. "Did you—was that…?"
Lottie laid a hand briefly on Amy's shoulder. "Trust me," she whispered, the words brushing against Amy's ear like a promise, a command, a lifeline.
The hall pulsed with movement, with low voices and shifting feet, but to Lottie, the world had narrowed to the humming, electric thread between herself and Evelyn—the invisible tug of war crackling just beneath the surface.
She turned toward her locker, fingers brushing the cool metal, the slight tremble in her hand smoothed by sheer will. Her chest felt tight, the rush of power leaving a faint metallic taste on her tongue, but the exhilaration surged, bright and heady beneath her skin.
Leo's voice drifted close, sardonic and soft. "You're playing a dangerous game, Hayes."
Lottie's mouth curved as she cast him a sidelong glance. "It's only dangerous if you're losing."
Behind her, Evelyn's laugh rang out again, sharper now, thinner at the edges. Lottie's pulse quickened, a faint shiver rolling through her as she turned slightly, just enough to meet Evelyn's gaze across the crowded hall.
For a heartbeat, the world held its breath.
Then Evelyn's smile deepened, slow and sweet and seething beneath the surface. And Lottie's answering smile was cool, precise, the flick of a knife's edge.
Amy's voice was a breath at her elbow. "Lottie… what now?"
Lottie let her fingers linger on the locker door, the chill of the metal seeping into her skin, anchoring her. She drew in a slow, measured breath.
"Now," she murmured, soft enough that only Amy and Leo could hear, "we watch the pieces move."
The bell rang, sharp and metallic, splitting the air. As students surged forward, Lottie slipped into step, her spine straight, her shoulders relaxed. Leo fell into stride beside her, a quiet smirk tugging at his mouth, and Amy trailed just behind, her worry a soft, constant hum.
But Lottie's mind was already racing ahead, calculating, weaving threads, readying herself for the next move in a game that had only just begun.
The pulse of tension crackled through the air, a live wire wrapped in laughter and whispers, and as Lottie felt the tremor of the Mislead Pulse curl tighter inside her, she smiled—sharp, sure, and wholly unafraid.