After lunch was over, so was the rest of the day.

English breezed by; Mira was alert enough to answer questions reliably and hide what she didn’t know under elaborate, long-winded answers too complex for anyone to waste time detangling. Gym bored her, study hall was a drawn out forty minutes of nothing, and she wished she could have stayed in her Art class the entire rest of the day.

Compared to her other subjects, Art was where she felt most at peace—and the only class she and Magic shared a teacher. Miss Flannise was a young woman, somewhere in her mid-twenties Mira figured, with long, dark hair with a reddish tiny she kept up in a messy bun, the scrunchie almost always with patterns of paint splatters. She was as eccentric as she was kind; Mira often approached Miss Flannise when she ran into issues with her other classes and teachers. In turn, her teacher mostly listened and gave advice when asked, as Mira was perfectly content with just being heard.

On this particular day, though, Mira chose to stay behind and offer the young woman advice and pointers on how to help her brother—things Magic liked but would never say and things he despised that he would never cause a fuss over. Mira didn’t expect issues for him here in this room, and as Miss Flannise wrote out a late pass, she promised to keep an eye out if she noticed anything strange.

To her surprise, the pass was unnecessary; by the time she got to Geography seats were still available, and sitting in one of them already was Callie. Mira carefully chose a seat diagonally behind the girl, nerves buzzing in her limbs, making her feet clumsy. Sweat gathered on her palms and she rubbed them along her jeans and shirt.

Every scenario she planned to go through with her former friend played on an endless loop in Mira’s head. Who needed to be watched the most, which hallways would cause the most congestion and issues should Magic get stuck. Which cliques already had it out for him and what they planned to do.

She rubbed her hands together. “Callie?”

The girl’s shoulder rose to her chin. Callie looked over her shoulder, eyes narrowed in warning.

Mira felt her heart stop for a beat and the words she’d been planning fell away, faded to nothing. Even with the glare, she felt a pull. Towards recklessness. Towards her.

No, she scolded herself. You have shit to do. Don’t get distracted. She’s just another girl in your class.

But she was a very pretty girl at that.

The bell rang and Callie turned back to the front, completely ignoring Mira, who felt herself squirming in her seat with anticipation and a boatload of other emotions tangled within it she couldn’t be bothered to figure out at the moment.

She forced herself to focus as her teacher, Mister Lamenia began to speak, going through the same spiel as he did the previous year. That this year was going to be more difficult than last year and that paying attention would be critical to heightening their understanding of the Circadian continent and the relations between each of the four regions. He went on about something else, but by then Mira had lost her ability to pay attention. Her mind was preoccupied with something else, and she jabbed Callie’s arm with a pencil.

She whipped around, fury in her eyes. “Cut it out.”

“I need to ask you something,” Mira replied in a whisper.

“It can wait. Pay attention.”

Rage bubbled in Mira’s chest; it receded not long after when she realized it was a bit unfair to be this annoyed, but Callie should have had an idea of how important this was. Mira wouldn’t have been asking in the middle of class if it wasn’t. If Callie didn’t want it pushed, she wouldn’t. Or at least, she would try. But all her efforts to do so failed.

And Mira did try; everything Mister Lamenia threw around the class, though, made no sense, the recap was boring, and the opening stuff he was currently teaching held nothing to keep her focus. It was just jargon. Pointless definitions and words and places that didn’t matter to her right now.

Her brother’s safety, though, did.

Mira poked Callie’s arm again.

Callie said nothing when she turned around this time and the icy malice in her pale blue eyes could have frozen the warm, southern waters of Maribyss.

Stunning.

Dangerous, Mira reminded herself. And she’ll throw you under the bus if it means saving her own skin.

When no words crossed the boundary between them and Callie turned to refocus, Mira tore a small piece of paper from her notebook and began to write.

Callie,

Our agreement. After class. Want to clear things up with you.

- Mira

She tapped the shoulder of the boy across from her and motioned for him to pass it on to Callie, watching anxiously as the slip of paper made its way into the girl’s hands. Mira winced as Callie’s shoulders tensed. A bad sign. A really bad sign. It was like Mira had sent her blackmail or something and was demanding compensation.

Despite the signs, Callie briefly glanced at her, nodded once, and turned back. In the span of that time, relief washed away the rigidity in her limbs that she didn’t realize she had. Maybe Janie was wrong. Maybe there was still a little hope left.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Mira zoned back into class at the exact moment that Mister Lamenia was going over what their assignments would look like this year. It left her reeling. Magic was right about her not being able to read a map well and the fact that she managed to skate by with her brother’s help last year—which bruised her ego a little considering he was an eighth grader at the time—was shocking in itself. This year he was expecting them to recreate maps, and the task alone was enough to make her want to drop out. Maybe Magic could spare her his brain cells and help her with this, too. Assuming he wasn’t too stressed from everything else.

By the end of class, Mira felt like her brain had melted, though the exhaustion faded when she spotted Callie staring at her while getting her books in order.

A prickle went across her skin when Callie actually spoke. “What do you want?”

“Can you wait until we’re in the hallway?” Mira asked, forcing her voice calm.

“No. Once I get to the main lobby I have to meet with Kara and the others. They’re punctual. You should know that.”

She did but that fact hardly mattered. “Fine. The stuff I asked you about in August before school started. Will you help me?”

“I’ll tell you what I told you then.” Callie tossed her hair back, combing through it with a hand as Mira followed her to the door, swallowing her heart in her throat. “I don’t know.”

“That’s not what you said,” Mira whispered as they shoved past their peers in the hall. “You told me in August that you’d do what you could. ‘I don’t know’ isn’t the same thing.”

“Does it matter what I said? Either way, I can’t guarantee helping you and I don’t owe the Ghost a debt. I can’t promise you or him anything.”

Mira felt something in her snap. The thing raging in her blood that so desperately wanted to pummel people into submission fought its way forward despite her efforts to restrain it. “Excuse me?”

“Me making a promise to you,” Callie went on, “is nearly impossible for me to do considering that Kara doesn’t like you and doesn’t want me talking with you. She’s afraid of losing more girls in the group since we already lost Poppy last year.”

“I thought she moved to Sombrail out west, though? That’s not in her control.”

“I know, but Poppy was like you, remember?”

Mira did. Poppy was a small, miserable-looking girl who grew even more pitiful the year Mira left. But unlike her, Poppy had no friends outside the group and fought desperately to blend in with a clique she’d hoped would accept her.

“Y’know, Mirabellis,” she’d once told her, “I envy you.”

“What for?” Mira had asked, as the comment came from nowhere. They’d been walking to one of their shared classes together and hadn’t said a word the entire way there.

“Your wit. It makes up for everything the other girls lack—common sense.”

“Is that … supposed to be a compliment? Or … ?”

“Well, you’ve always been bold,” Poppy said. “And I envy your ability to burn bridges. No one can keep you around if you don’t want to be there. I kind of wish I was more like you.”

“If you start practicing how to build fires, you’ll get there soon enough.”

Poppy had laughed at that. “I’ll let you know how that works out.”

Clearly it hadn’t gone well or she wouldn’t have been forced to move several towns over.

Mira was leaning against a wall by the lockers now, puffing air up to blow her curls out of her face. Callie was placing books inside her backpack, eyes snapping from her school materials to somewhere down the hallway. What Mira assumed to be nerves made the other girl slightly jumpy as she fumbled while sliding the notebooks into the backpack. “Y’know,” she said, keeping her voice low, “I wouldn’t have expected you to bend so willingly to them. You never seemed like the kind of person who would submit to shit like that.”

“It’s not how I wanted to spend my senior year,” Callie replied, “but I honor my mother and my grades too much for them to make a fool out of me. Look, I know what you’re asking me to do and I know it’s important to you, but this is important to me, too. I won’t betray my chance at living through my last year normally to cater to a ghost that can’t defend itself.”

Mira pursed her lips. “Wow. For a smart girl, Callie, you’re so unbelievably stupid.”

“Watch your mouth, Mirabellis.”

“No, I don’t think I will. Because you know exactly how I feel about that term and you’ve said it to my face—not once, but twice now—as if it isn’t used to shame and degrade him.”

Callie glared at her. “I have other things that I have to worry about. I’m sorry that your crusade doesn’t come first on my list.”

“All you had to do was give me a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answer and that would’ve been the end of it. If you are that keen and that willing to roll yourself over like a submissive dog, I won’t stop you. But you deny me, then don’t come crawling to me for notes to skate you through Geography with a grade high enough to graduate.”

She watched the girl’s eyes take her apart, dismantle her piece by piece. Pushing Callie away was the last thing Mira wanted to do; it pained her chest to bargain this way, to hold her success at gunpoint. All she really wanted to do was push up onto her toes and kiss her despite everything going on.

Callie took a deep breath, bringing her shoulders to her ears. “I still think you’re a bitch who knows how to get what she wants. The group was right. You should’ve stayed.”

“I could’ve,” she replied. “Unfortunately for the group, I have standards. Standards that prevent me from ditching my friends in the dust.”

“Don’t mistake me, Mira. I do have standards, but I also have priorities.”

“Right. Priorities.” Mira tilted forward as she spoke, a mocking bow. “Priorities that keep you from associating with the low lives you threw aside.”

Callie slammed her locker shut. The other kids nearest to her jumped. “I never said that.”

“I’m a smart girl, Callie, so don’t play dumb with me. You don’t have to tell me jack shit. I can read between the lines. Your reluctance to talk to me, Janie or Thalia says everything you don’t have the balls to tell me yourself. And while we’re on the topic of that, I suggest you drop the ‘ghost’ term with me or I’ll make sure you have no teeth to help you talk. My brother has a name. Use it.”

The two of them stared at each other, a silent back and forth of defiance, challenge and stubbornness. Neither were willing to make the next move, but Mira was tired of waiting, tired of petty games.

She took a step forward to close the gap between her and Callie, who backed into the locker; the lock itself clanged and clattered against the back of Callie’s head. Mira’s foot hovered over one of Callie’s. “Consider my question again. Are you helping me or not?”

The girl nodded hastily. “I’ll make something work,” she murmured.

“Good. And for the record, I didn’t just ditch you guys because of the supply closet issue. My leaving was a long time coming. The act was exhausting and I hope it tires you out, too. Just keep that in the back of your mind when you’re making other people’s lives hell.”

Mira took her foot away and Callie heaved a shaky sigh of relief. Guilt rattled her more than she expected it. Fear was good, she reminded herself. If the kids feared her, they’d bother her less—and hopefully it would extend to Magic, too.

She gave a taunting tug of Callie’s backpack straps. “Now,” she said, “if you’ll excuse me, I have important places to be.”

Without giving the other girl a chance to respond, Mira turned on her heel and weaved through the crowd, racing for the lobby doors.