The final bell of the day rang, releasing a wave of relief and chatter throughout the hallways. Victor packed up his belongings methodically, his mind already swimming with thoughts of the project. He hadn’t even glanced up when Rhea appeared beside his desk, leaning casually against the edge.
“Hey,” she said, her tone brisk as always. “You heading straight home?”
Victor looked up, surprised. “Uh, yeah, I guess.”
“Well, we need to figure out this project,” she said, adjusting her bag on her shoulder. “There’s a cafe not far from here—decent enough for sitting down and brainstorming. You game?”
Victor hesitated. The thought of working with her outside of school was daunting, but he couldn’t exactly refuse. She was driven, focused—everything he wasn’t when it came to teamwork. And besides, this was important.
“Sure,” he said, nodding. “That works.”
“Good. I’ll walk with you to your place first,” Rhea added nonchalantly. “Then we can head to the cafe.”
Victor blinked. “You don’t have to do that. It’s out of the way.”
Rhea shrugged. “I don’t mind. Besides, I need to stretch my legs.”
Without waiting for further protest, she started toward the door. Victor sighed, resigned, and followed her into the bustling hallway.
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The streets outside Hawthorn High were alive with the usual after-school chaos—groups of students spilling out onto the sidewalks, laughter and chatter filling the air. Victor and Rhea walked side by side, the din of the city enveloping them.
“So,” Rhea began, glancing at him. “You’ve been pretty quiet. Nervous about the project?”
“Not really,” Victor said, adjusting the strap of his bag. “Just… figuring out how to approach it.”
“Well, good thing you’ve got me,” she said with a smirk. “I’ve already got a few ideas. We’ll divide and conquer.”
Victor managed a small smile. “Sounds like a plan.”
Rhea tilted her head slightly, studying him. “You always this serious? Or is it just because I’m intimidating?”
Victor chuckled under his breath. “A little of both, maybe.”
She grinned. “Good answer.”
The conversation drifted into lighter topics as they continued walking—school gossip, the occasional teasing comment from Rhea, and Victor’s awkward but sincere attempts to keep up. It was almost enough to distract him from the gnawing tension building in his chest as they neared his house.
When they arrived, Victor slowed, glancing at the small, weathered structure ahead. The curtains were drawn, and the faint sound of the television blared from inside, muffled but unmistakable. He stopped at the gate, turning to Rhea.
“Wait here,” he said quickly, his voice tight.
Rhea frowned. “Why?”
“I just need to grab something,” Victor said, avoiding her gaze. “Won’t take long.”
She hesitated but nodded, leaning against the fence. “Alright. Don’t take forever.”
The moment Victor stepped inside, the smell hit him—a cloying mixture of stale alcohol and unwashed clothes. His father’s voice, slurred and irritated, carried from the living room.
“Victor! That you?”
Victor froze, his pulse quickening. “Yeah, it’s me.”
“Where the hell have you been?” His father’s voice rose, thick with anger. “School’s out. You think you can just wander around, huh? Forget who keeps this roof over your head?”
Victor bit his lip, his hands tightening on the straps of his bag. “I had a project to work on. I just need to grab my stuff and go.”
“Project?” His father scoffed, stumbling into the hallway. His bloodshot eyes narrowed as he pointed a trembling finger at Victor. “You think you’re so much better than me, don’t you? Like you’ve got some bright future ahead of you?”
“I didn’t say that,” Victor said quietly, stepping back.
“You’re just like your mother!” his father roared, reaching for a bottle on the nearby counter. “Thinking you’re too good for this place. Well, let me tell you something—”
The bottle flew through the air, shattering against the wall just inches from Victor’s head. Shards of glass rained down, and Victor’s heart thundered in his chest.
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“Get out of my sight!” his father bellowed. “Useless little—”
Victor didn’t wait to hear the rest. He turned and bolted out the door, slamming it shut behind him. His breaths came in sharp gasps as he stumbled down the steps, his hands shaking.
Rhea straightened as Victor emerged, her eyes narrowing at his disheveled appearance. “What happened?”
“Nothing,” Victor said quickly, brushing past her. “Let’s go.”
“Wait a second.” She grabbed his arm, her grip firm. “You’re shaking. What’s going on?”
“I said it’s nothing,” Victor snapped, pulling away. “Drop it.”
But Rhea wasn’t buying it. Her sharp eyes darted to the broken glass glinting on his clothes, the flush on his face, and the tension in his shoulders.
“Victor,” she said, her voice softer now. “Talk to me.”
He shook his head, swallowing hard. “It’s just… my dad. He’s—he’s having a rough day. That’s all.”
Rhea’s expression darkened, a flicker of understanding passing over her face. She stepped closer, her voice quiet but insistent. “You don’t have to deal with that alone.”
Victor looked away, his chest tightening. “It’s not your problem.”
“Maybe not,” Rhea said, crossing her arms. “But you’re not exactly doing a great job of convincing me you’re fine.”
He hesitated, the weight of her gaze making it impossible to hide. Finally, he let out a shaky breath. “I just… I don’t want to talk about it right now.”
“Alright,” she said, stepping back. “But if you ever do, I’m here. Got it?”
Victor nodded, the knot in his chest loosening slightly. “Thanks.”
“Come on,” Rhea said, nudging him gently. “Let’s get to that cafe. We’ve got a project to crush.”
As they walked away from the house, Victor stole a glance at her. For the first time in a long while, he felt a flicker of something he couldn’t quite name—something like hope.
The aroma of fresh coffee and baked goods greeted Victor and Rhea as they stepped into the small cafe. It was cozy, with mismatched chairs and a few students scattered across tables, textbooks and notebooks sprawled in front of them. A soft hum of conversation filled the air, broken only by the occasional hiss of the espresso machine.
Rhea scanned the room, her sharp eyes landing on a corner table by the window. “That’ll do,” she said, nodding toward it.
Victor followed her lead, slipping into the seat across from her. The warmth of the cafe and the low buzz of activity around them eased some of the tension he hadn’t even realized he was still carrying.
Rhea dropped her bag on the table and immediately began pulling out a notebook and a handful of loose sketches. “Alright,” she said, leaning forward, her voice brimming with enthusiasm. “Here’s the plan: Etherion-based prosthetics. Practical, cutting-edge, and not so complicated that we’re doomed to fail. Thoughts?”
Victor blinked. “That’s... ambitious,” he said, though he couldn’t help but admire her confidence. “We’d need to model Etherion flow, figure out a stable energy source, and—”
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Rhea said, waving a hand. “That’s why it’s a group project. Two heads are better than one, right?” She grinned, her energy infectious.
Victor hesitated, thinking it through. “It’s a great idea, but what about materials? I doubt the school’s going to hand over Etherion conduits or circuit arrays for a high school project.”
Rhea’s expression faltered slightly, and she sighed. “Yeah, that’s the problem. Without the right materials, this might just stay a fancy idea on paper.”
Victor’s gaze drifted to the tabletop for a moment before he looked up, his voice quieter but more determined. “I might be able to help with that.”
Rhea raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
“I still have some contact with my mom’s old colleagues,” Victor said cautiously. “She worked with Etherion tech, and her lab’s still active. I could reach out—see if they can spare a few materials. Nothing huge, just enough for us to put something together.”
Rhea’s eyes widened slightly. “Wait, your mom was in Etherion tech? Like, for real?”
Victor nodded, his expression guarded. “Yeah. She was... one of the top researchers in the field.”
Rhea leaned back, her grin returning in full force. “Alright, Campbell. You’ve officially gone from ‘new guy’ to ‘potential MVP.’ If you can pull that off, we might actually have a shot at making this work.”
Victor managed a small smile, feeling a flicker of something like hope. “I’ll do my best.”
They worked in relative quiet for a while, the occasional exchange of ideas punctuated by the scratch of pen on paper. Rhea’s focus was unwavering, her pen flying across the page as she sketched out designs and jotted down notes. Victor found himself admiring her efficiency—not to mention her confidence. She approached everything with the same unshakable determination, as though failure wasn’t even in her vocabulary.
At one point, Rhea leaned back, stretching her arms above her head. “Alright,” she said, cracking her knuckles. “I think we’ve got a solid outline. Let’s call it a win for today.”
Victor glanced at the time and realized how quickly the hours had passed. “Yeah,” he said, gathering his things. “We’ve made a lot of progress.”
“You better believe it,” Rhea said, grinning. “And now you owe me coffee.”
Victor blinked. “What?”
“Hey, I carried the brainstorming session,” she said, her tone mock-serious. “It’s only fair.”
Victor rolled his eyes but stood anyway, heading to the counter. “Fine. What do you want?”
“Surprise me,” Rhea said with a smirk, leaning back in her chair.
When Victor returned with two steaming mugs—one black coffee, one caramel latte—Rhea raised an eyebrow. “Let me guess,” she said, taking the latte. “This is yours?”
Victor shrugged. “I figured you’d like something sweeter.”
“Not bad, Campbell,” she said, taking a sip. “You might be more observant than I thought.”
By the time they left the cafe, the sky was painted in shades of orange and pink, the last light of the day casting long shadows across the quiet streets. They walked side by side, the comfortable silence between them broken only by the crunch of their footsteps on the pavement.
“Thanks for today,” Victor said eventually, his voice quiet.
Rhea glanced at him. “For what?”
“For... letting me tag along,” he said, fumbling slightly. “And for being patient. I’m not great at this kind of stuff.”
“Please,” Rhea said, waving a hand. “You’re way better at it than most people I’ve worked with. I mean, Nate’s a decent guy, but he’d probably suggest slapping a sticker on a battery and calling it a day.”
Victor chuckled. “He doesn’t seem like the ‘hard work’ type.”
“He’s not,” Rhea said, smiling fondly. “But he means well. And you? You’ve got potential, Campbell. Don’t sell yourself short.”
Victor didn’t know how to respond to that, so he just nodded, the weight of her words settling over him like a warm blanket.
As they approached the turn that led to Victor’s house, Rhea paused. “Alright,” she said, shifting her bag on her shoulder. “Guess this is where we part ways.”
Victor hesitated. “Yeah. Thanks again.”
“See you tomorrow,” she said, giving him a small wave before heading off.
Victor watched her go, the lingering warmth of her words carrying him through the cool evening air. For the first time in a long while, he felt like he might actually belong somewhere. And that was a feeling worth holding onto.