CLAIRE

I groaned as I hit the off-button on my alarm clock. I opened my eyes and was careful as I sat up. I'd banged my head way too many times on the ceiling to repeat that mistake again.

I sat there a moment, trying to recall my dreams— but there were only a few fleeting images, of trams and of vigilantes that remained in my memory come morning.

Chalking it up to only a few hours of sleep, I sighed and got to my feet. It was time to start the day and there was no use in dilly-dallying. Especially since I had no idea how I'd be getting to school now that the monorail was down.

I headed over to the closet set-up and pulled a t-shirt dress off of the rack without hesitation. It was comfy, and with a few layering techniques would work even in the icy Montana weather.

So I went for a white long-sleeved shirt and some black leggings underneath.

I was suddenly relieved that Holly insisted I have at least a few pairs of pants and leggings that didn't have rips on them. I didn't want everyone to see the giant scabs on my knees and know immediately what had happened.

Things were going to be awkward enough with my face on the news as Renegade and Heretic's latest hostage.

I knew exactly what was in store for me because I remember how everyone treated me when Mom died. How others pushed me away because we were all kids and no one knew how to deal with grief and loss.

And to be fair— it shouldn't have had to be that way.

But the same kind of pushing away would happen to me today, where people would whisper their pity and sympathy, but wouldn't actually talk o me except for syrupy remarks about how I was so brave, so strong.

Even though I hadn't been some brave, feisty captive. Yeah, I'd said a few sarcastic things— but for the most part I kept my mouth shut because I wanted to live. The thing is, I was afraid to die by Heretic's hand, or by the tram.

Everyone would expect some story about how I tried to save others from the tram or from Renegade and Heretic, and that that was why I tried to fight him. Never mind the truth that was honestly embarrassing the more I thought about it, how I tried to run, how I tried to save myself before thinking of anyone else.

Suddenly, I wasn't feeling so good about returning to school that day.

I sat down as I laced up my favorite white Doc Martens— I supposed I'd regret it later, as they were definitely more dressy, but they were fairly good at keeping slush out of my boots.

At least today was Friday, so I'd get a weekend for something else super-related to happen, and no one would care about little ol' me all that much.

I ran a brush through my hair— I was trying to be gentle with the shampoo, as I wanted to keep in the teal streaks in my lowlights. They were put in to be easily concealable for esports tournaments and other events where I was expected to look respectable. But during school I let them fly free— they were cute, and not a color most girls immediately reached for when dying their hair.

I thought about messing around with jewelry or a fun necklace, before deciding on a black velvet choker with a little silver moon pendant hanging from it, to contrast with the white sun design on my t-shirt dress. Well, and of course, my watch.

I liked to keep it simple, after all.

With my messenger bag strapped over my shoulder, I headed downstairs. I glanced out the window— Dad and Julien's cars had already gone.

When I entered the kitchen, there was a stack of a few chocolate chip pancakes sitting on a plate. Holly was mixing a juice for herself, so I just silently went to eat them. I wasn't one for butter or syrup. Julien liked to declare me 'a psychopath' for how I preferred my pancakes plain— especially chocolate chip ones.

When the dull roar of the blender finally ceased, Holly poured herself a mug of the stuff and sat down across from me at the breakfast table.

"Eat up," she ordered. "I'm taking you to school today— Julien will pick you up between his afternoon and evening class. You don't have to stay after for esports again tonight, do you?"

I shook my head. "We only practice on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays."

"Thank God for that." Holly smiled. "Don't worry— the monorail should be back up and functioning by Monday. But obviously, there's still some work that needs to be done—"

I nodded, my mouth too full of pancakes to speak. I got the memo.

"So, will you be ready to go once you're done with breakfast?" Holly raised her eyebrows— but not in the suspicious kind of way, but an innocent curiosity.

I nodded, but got up to pour orange juice into my water bottle for the day. I used to use coffee primarily as my main source of liquid, but after some arguments with Dad and Holly, I'd negotiated to orange juice— or just juices in general.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

Maybe it was just me, but knowing what I did about New Kingsbury's water supply didn't put me too at ease to drink it, even if we were a few miles away and by now the water would have cycled everywhere and there was no going back.

Plus, it always tasted funny to me if it came out of the faucets and not just a water bottle.

On the way to school, Holly had to talk to some clients so I just put in my earbuds— excuse me, one working earbud— and watched the surrounding scenery of New Kingsbury. Just like I would've if I'd been riding the monorail around the same time.

Of course the streets and sidewalks were more full, since the monorail had been a rather important investment in our city's infrastructure. The buses just weren't up to the capacity required to take in what the monorail had done.

It wasn't too long before Holly pulled into the car rider line. I paused my music to talk to her.

"Thanks for driving me to school," I said.

"It's not a problem, that's the benefit of being freelance— screw my brunch buddies if they can't understand that." Holly grinned. "They're worried about you, you know."

"What, why?" I glanced at the front of the line— we were edging closer to the drop off zone. "I'm not in danger— not anymore."

"We don't know that for sure." Holly's face darkened. "I'll admit, your dad and I are scared for you, too— that Renegade might make a target of you."

"He's taken other hostages before, similar situations to me," I reminded her. Although that wasn't where my mind flashed back to, but him walking me home.

"But none of them tried to fight him." Holly's expression was one of both pride and fear. "Most of them are caught completely off-guard."

"Wait, did that make it on the news, too?" I needed to find that footage and see what it was that the rest of the city had.

"You were very brave, to take him on." Holly's eyes were now on the cars in front of us— a line that was growing shorter and shorter by the minute. "But being a hero like that— it can draw the attention of men like Renegade. Men like that don't like being challenged, even if you don't succeed."

I thought to my conversation with Renegade— that didn't really match with what my step-mom was saying. But I couldn't deny that she had a point.

Renegade was a wild card— none of us really knew what he wanted or what he was thinking. We were all subject to the whims of what he wanted to do with his power.

That said, Renegade wasn't the one I was worried about—it was Heretic. It was strange, that Holly hadn't mentioned her at all.

Then again, maybe it was a subject too dark for any of us to speak of.

"I'll be careful, Holly," I promised as I placed my hand on the door handle. "I'll see you later tonight."

"Alright, Claire." Holly's expression softened and her smile returned. "Have a good day at school today— and stay safe."

"I will," I lied as I climbed out.

Not likely, I thought as I watched her drive away. I turned, putting my earbud back in as I walked up the steps to North Kingsbury High. Other students weren't really hanging around outside, since it was freakin' cold to put it lightly.

But when I stepped inside, that was when I started gaining attention.

Now, it wasn't as dramatic as you might think, based off of the multitude of teen romcoms and dramas. Not everyone stared at once. But it started small. A guy elbowing his friend as I passed, a girl looking away from me guiltily and whispering something to her huddle of friends. The way people's eyes lingered on my forehead and hands as I passed.

Still, I made my way to homeroom with about fifteen minutes to spare. Enough time to get into my groove and try to mentally prep myself for what was ahead.

After all, it was Friday, the day when teachers declared pop quizzes and tests would reign despite the school's policy meant to prevent us from having a million assessments in one day.

I was just going to go through some flash cards or something— or maybe read a Tamora Pierce book I borrowed from the library— when I noticed him out of my peripheral vision.

It was none other than Malcolm McQueen, the resident popular athlete guy. You know the exact type— golden boy with the grades and the girls. He was the quarterback, lithe and muscular but not as jacked as a linebacker, with warm brown eyes, dark hair, and a smile that made every male-attracted person in the area go wild.

"Sorry, do you need something?" I figured he was going to say something about being in his seat or his friend's seat, or needing homework help of some kind.

I guess you can see that I never really had the highest opinion of Malcolm. It wasn't that I hated or really disliked the guy— that wasn't it at all. We just weren't in the same circles and that was all.

"You were on the news last night, weren't you?"

I removed my earbud. "So they tell me."

"I just wanted to make sure that you were okay," he said, concern in those chocolate brown eyes. "I imagine your head must hurt."

"A little, but I'm fine," I assured him. "I appreciate the concern, though, really."

"Well, that's good." He nodded. "I'll tell the others to leave you alone— if that's what you want?"

"Yes, thank you." Still, a thought, a curiosity, lingered in my mind, tugging at me like a pulling thread. "Why are you doing this?"

He blinked, and when he responded, he sounded genuinely confused. "Because it's the right thing to do."

The first bell of the morning rang, warning all students that they had ten minutes to get to class.

Malcolm plastered a smile on his face and returned to his seat.

That's when the first wave of incoming students entered the class. That's when one of the four people I'd consider to be the closest to being my best friend rushed in, vaulting over another desk to sit in hers— right in front of me.

"I came as soon as I could," Charlotte panted. "I was going to text you last night, but then I thought that maybe your phone got damaged when the tram crash, or that you lost it and that it wouldn't help— but the thing is, we were all worried about you!"

"I'm alright, Charlotte," I assured her. "My phone's fine— although one of my earbuds busted and my screen cracked."'

"Well, that's good, I guess." She tugged at the hem of her t-shirt. She wore almost exclusively a collection of tourist t-shirts and t-shirts from her parents' college.

Which wasn't Kingsbury College, by the way, but one of the other universities of four in the city— Andersen University, which was located closer to the Silver Spires and the nicer uptown of New Kingsbury.

Charlotte's sharp gray eyes flicked up towards the bruise and scabs on my forehead. "That must have hurt."

"It did." I was getting a little tired of everyone pointing that out. "A lot. I hit my head like, multiple times. My hands and knees are pretty scraped up, too."

"You're lucky that's all there was," Charlotte informed me, slipping into analytics mode. "There were forty-seven confirmed deaths, most of which happened when Powerline electrified the tram—"

"I know, I know." I couldn't hide the rising irritation in my voice, and the fears that underlined it. That someone would notice, like Renegade did, that it wasn't because of luck. "I'm sorry— it's just—"

"No, I understand." Charlotte's features softened. "I get it. Anyway, what did you think of the psych homework last night?"

Never was I so grateful to complain about psychology.