I spotted them before we even arrived at the parking lot.

  Nell stood near the front doors like an installation, arms folded, weight on one hip, face blank in that way that never quite felt like boredom. She wasn't smiling, she wasn't talking to anyone, she was simply there. Watching. Waiting.

  A few yards away, perched on a low brick wall, Ethan sat surrounded by a group of three boys and two girls, including the blonde from the cafeteria. At first it seemed like they were all just hanging out, but at a closer look it became apparent they were orbiting him, not too close and not too far either. Except for the blonde, who would occasionally slip into his personal space like a lost comet, only to quickly pull out in a cautious but mesmerizing dance.

  Dad slowed to a stop. The engine hummed. He glanced at me, one hand still on the wheel, the other resting too lightly on the gear shift, like he was contemplating changing his mind and driving straight back out of town.

  "You remember what I said to you?" he murmured.

  I stared out the window. The school looked the same as yesterday, ordinary brick, faded and torn Timberwolves banner, kids milling around like it was any other morning. And yet the air felt different. Yesterday had been hunger and curiosity, today felt like caution.

  "I remember," I said.

  Dad's jaw flexed once. He didn't look at Nell or Ethan, but I saw his eyes flick toward the entrance, measuring distance, counting people, like he couldn't stop himself.

  "You go straight in," he said. "Stay with Nell. Listen to her."

  I didn't answer, because if I did, it would turn into a fight, and I did not have the energy for that. Not after last night.

  I opened the door and stepped out.

  "Pup," he called, leaning towards me, voice softening, "Be careful. And text me at lunch, okay?"

  I managed a brief nod. "See you later."

  As I turned, cold air slapped my cheeks. My breath fogged. My sneakers hit the concrete with a sound that was too loud.

  I felt it immediately, the looks.

  Not a full courtyard freeze like yesterday, not dozens of faces snapping toward me at once. This time it was subtler. Heads turned, then turned away. Conversations paused for a heartbeat, then resumed. Laughter stumbled, movement slowed almost to a stop.

  I kept walking.

  Dad stayed in the car with the engine running, eyes fixed forward. He didn't get out, but I could feel him behind me, like a hand on my back.

  Nell's gaze met mine from the entrance. It held no friendly warmth, but it remained steady and sure, and my shoulders loosened just a fraction.

  Then I felt it, like someone lighting a match in front of my face.

  Ethan was watching me. Not like the others. Or perhaps exactly like the others, only more. His gaze fixed on me with single-minded focus that struck directly at my nerves.

  Heat crawled up my neck. My cheeks warmed. My pulse did something stupid, a series of rapid, traitorous beats. I had no idea what was happening to me, was this anxiety, fear, or something else, nor did I know what to do with it.

  I looked away, but not in time to miss how the blonde by his side straightened her spine and narrowed her eyes at me.

  My feet kept moving, carrying me toward the doors, toward Nell, faster and faster.

  I was halfway up the path when Dad's car finally moved. The tires scraped on asphalt. The vehicle glided past the line of parked cars, and the second it cleared the lot, the air shifted.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  I couldn't have explained it if someone asked. There wasn't a sound, not a single obvious movement. Just a collective adjustment, like a group of people letting out a breath at the same time.

  My skin prickled, tingles rolling up and down my spine.

  A boy near the flagpole stopped talking mid-sentence. Another by the trash cans tilted his head, eyes tracking me without moving his feet. A group of girls near the steps paused their chatter, their attention sliding toward the boys, then down to me. A pair of guys in front of me drifted apart just enough to create a gap for me to pass, and then, just as quietly, closed it again behind me.

  I kept walking, but my steps shortened without my permission. The space around me seemed to shrink.

  I glanced up at the doors. At Nell. At her stillness, her watchful eyes.

  I didn't notice at first how many of the boys around the courtyard had subtly angled themselves inward, how their bodies had begun to form two loose semicircles that orbited each other, slowly drawing inward, the space between them narrowing.

  I didn't notice, because all my focus was on Ethan.

  His gaze was on me again, heavier now, pressing. His friends stopped laughing. One of them started to say something, but Ethan lifted a hand, and he shut his mouth like he'd been burned.

  Ethan's posture changed a fraction. It was just a small shift forward.

  My face burned hotter.

  I told myself it was humiliation. Grief. Stress. The fact that everyone here looked at me like I was a problem that needed managing.

  But he wasn't looking at me that way. His look was touch without touching. Weird. Uncomfortable in a way that made it impossible for me to look away.

  My breathing went shallow. For a moment the world faltered. My foot caught on a crack in the concrete. I stumbled one step, a minuscule mistake, but the reaction around me was immediate, a ripple in still water.

  A boy took a step from the left. Another one mirrored it on the right.

  My palms went slick with sweat.

  Nell's head snapped toward the courtyard. She lifted two fingers to her mouth and whistled, sharp and clean, the same way she had yesterday.

  A few heads turned. Several students further away paused. However, the ones near me didn't stop. Their steps slowed, but their eyes stayed fixed. Their shoulders stayed angled in.

  And that was when Ethan moved.

  He sprang up so suddenly that the boys around him jerked back like they'd been yanked by invisible strings. The wall was empty before the sound of his boots hitting the ground even registered.

  He started walking toward me. Slow. Steady. Deliberate.

  The boys between us moved aside without being asked, parting so cleanly it felt like ice cracking under an icebreaking ship. As he walked, a corridor formed around him on its own, as if pushed away by some magnetic force.

  The ring around me faltered, confused. A boy on my left hesitated, gaze flicking to Ethan. His foot shifted back. Another on my right held his ground for half a second longer, then stepped away like the decision had been made for him.

  My lungs finally pulled in a full breath, shaky and cold.

  Ethan reached me in a few strides.

  Up close, the calm on his face was worse than anger would have been. Anger would have been human. His expression was controlled, blank apart from intense focus. His head tilted slightly, eyes flicking over me, quick and precise, checking for something I couldn't name.

  Then his gaze lifted, past me, scanning the courtyard. Whatever he saw made his jaw tighten, barely.

  The noose made of bodies loosened, dissolving into space. Conversations resumed in fragments, along with laughter that didn't seem quite honest, and the occasional cautious glance toward the place where Ethan and I stood.

  And then something odd happened. He looked at me and smiled.

  Not the way boys usually smile. This smile spread in his eyes, lighting them under the morning sun. The corner of his mouth curved only the tiniest fraction.

  "Hi," he said simply. The word echoed like a struck gong, reverberating in my bones.

  Heart still hammering, I answered, "Hi." I cleared my throat. "What's happening?" I asked in a hushed tone.

  One of his eyebrows lifted in mild amusement. He opened his mouth to answer, but Nell was already moving down the steps. She reached us and stopped on my other side, her posture rigid with contained irritation.

  Nell's voice came out low. "What do you think you're doing?"

  Ethan didn't look at her. Instead, his gaze lifted, fixing on the courtyard. "Correcting." His tone was flat, offering no further explanation.

  A muscle jumped in Nell's cheek.

  I stared at the doors, the glass reflecting the gray sky, the normal hallway beyond. A normal hallway filled with not-so-normal people.

  Ethan's gaze dipped to me for the briefest moment. The smile in his eyes was gone, but there was something in them that made it seem like he was angry at the world, not at me.

  Then he spoke, quiet enough that it felt like a warning meant only for my ears. "Let's go inside," he said, voice low, "Walk."

  He didn't have to say it twice.

  My legs moved again, stiff and obedient, and Nell matched my pace on one side while Ethan stayed on the other, close enough that the space around me felt claimed. I was in a padded room, and Ethan and Nell had the key.

  We reached the doors.

  I didn't look back. I didn't need to.

  Because somewhere deep in my bones, I felt that if Ethan hadn't stood up when he did, I might not have made it to the entrance untouched.

  And whatever that meant, whatever rule I'd almost broken without even knowing it existed, it meant this town was not waiting for me to fit in.

  It was waiting for me to find myself alone.