The school felt alive, trembling under the weight of whispers. Lottie walked through the halls as if balancing on a razor's edge, every step measured, every breath slow and deliberate. Her phone buzzed incessantly in her pocket, the vibrations sharp against her leg—a heartbeat of chaos thrumming beneath the mask of calm she wore like second skin.
As she rounded the corner toward her locker, the air thickened. Students clumped in tight knots, glancing up as she passed, laughter cutting off mid-breath, eyes darting sideways like minnows sensing a predator. She caught flickers of conversation, sharp and fleeting like the scrape of a blade on bone.
"She didn't even flinch, did you see?"
"Evelyn's crew is spiraling… did you check the forum?"
"Lottie's post was cold. Brilliant."
Lottie let the words slide over her skin like rain, cool and distant, though beneath it all, her heart thudded with a quiet ferocity, each beat a drumroll in her chest. She adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder, fingers brushing the leather with a ghost of a touch, savoring the bite of the material, grounding herself. Her mouth curved, just slightly, as she pulled out her phone.
The school forum was a battlefield—comment threads exploding, usernames clashing like swords, GIFs and memes layered over each other in a chaotic swirl. Lottie's carefully worded post sat at the center of it all, a calm statement that defused the storm without surrendering ground. She read it again—not because she doubted it, but because the rhythm of the words steadied her pulse, a silent chant beneath the roar of the day.
From the corner of her eye, Amy emerged, nearly tripping over herself as she rushed to Lottie's side. Her hair was a little messy, her face pale with the flush of adrenaline and something like guilt. "Lottie!" she breathed, clutching her elbow like a lifeline. "Everyone's talking about it—you're everywhere. Evelyn hasn't even shown up yet. Do you think she's… I don't know, planning something?"
Lottie's gaze softened, just a fraction, enough to hush the sharpness at the edges. "She's regrouping," she murmured, slipping her phone into her pocket with a faint click. "She always does."
Amy's breath hitched, fingers twisting anxiously in the hem of her sweater. "But it's different now, right? You—everyone's on your side."
A wry smile ghosted across Lottie's lips. "Amy," she said softly, "sides shift faster than rumors."
Amy's mouth opened, then closed, her brows pulling together in a little furrow of worry. She squeezed Lottie's arm once, hesitating before she spoke again. "I'm—I'm with you, okay?" Her voice was small, shaky, the edges of her words rough with uncertainty. "I mean… if you want me."
Lottie's fingers brushed lightly over Amy's knuckles, just once. "I know."
The crowd parted again as Leo leaned against a nearby locker, one brow arched, his signature lazy smirk curling at the corner of his mouth. His tie was half-loosened, his sleeves rolled just enough to flash the lean muscle of his forearms. "Look at you, Hayes," he drawled, voice smooth as velvet, gliding over the tension in the air. "Didn't even need a speechwriter."
Lottie turned her head slightly, eyes meeting his with a flicker of quiet amusement. "I've been paying attention."
Leo pushed off the locker, his steps easy as he fell into place beside her, hands slipping into his pockets. His voice dipped, low enough only for her. "Enjoying the throne yet, queen of ice?"
Her lips curved, just faintly. "A temporary crown."
He let out a low chuckle, tilting his head toward her. "That's the trick, isn't it? Keeping it temporary until it's permanent."
Across the hall, Evelyn's friends clustered in uneasy formation, their laughter a little too bright, their smiles stretched thin like taut wires. Their glances darted to Lottie, then away, then back again—like moths circling a flame they didn't understand. And at the heart of their circle, conspicuously absent, was Evelyn herself.
A chill threaded down Lottie's spine, delicate and precise as the tip of a needle. Her fingers twitched faintly at her side before she curled them into a loose fist, the skin at her knuckles tightening. She could feel the absence, heavy as a stone—the quiet before the storm, the sucked-in breath before the scream.
Her phone buzzed again, sharp as a slap against her thigh. She pulled it out, thumb brushing the glass. A new message pulsed on the screen:
"Enjoy it while you can."
No sender. No context. Just five words, and beneath them, the faint aftertaste of a threat.
Her breath caught, chest tightening for a heartbeat before she forced it smooth again. Her pulse thrummed in her ears, hot and fast, but her fingers were steady as she slipped the phone away, her hand brushing her skirt as though shaking off ash.
Amy touched her arm again, eyes wide, voice pitched thin with worry. "Lottie? What's wrong?"
"Nothing," Lottie murmured, the syllables soft, precise, razor-edged. "Not yet."
As they moved down the hall, the hush behind them rippled, reshaping into a tide of whispers. Lottie caught fragments:
"She's not scared at all—"
"Where's Evelyn?"
"Did you see Leo with her—?"
The teachers in the staff room threw glances through the glass window, eyes sharp and assessing, voices low with speculation. Lottie felt their gaze like a second skin, sliding over her as if measuring, recalibrating, deciding. A brief flicker of annoyance curled through her ribs, but she let it pass, smoothing her expression into blank, cool calm.
By the time they reached the courtyard, the air felt thinner, stretched tight over the bones of the moment. Lottie paused, tilting her head slightly toward the sun, eyes slipping half-closed as she drew in a breath. Her fingers brushed the cool edge of the stone wall beside her, grounding herself in the rough texture, the chill bleeding into her skin like a quiet anchor.
Leo stood just behind her, hands still shoved in his pockets, his weight tilted onto one foot. "You're thinking too loud," he murmured, amusement flickering like a spark in his voice.
Lottie opened her eyes, the faintest of smiles ghosting across her lips. "Am I?"
"Mm." His grin sharpened. "You're pulling threads again."
She turned, brushing past him, the faint graze of her sleeve against his arm deliberate, a whisper of contact. "That's how you unravel a web."
Amy trailed at their heels, her steps uneven, voice rising again in nervous bursts. "Maybe we should just—wait, or talk to someone, or—"
Lottie's hand drifted back, grazing Amy's sleeve in a quiet hush of reassurance. "We're watching."
Amy exhaled, a shaky breath catching halfway out. Her fingers twisted in the strap of her bag, her pace quickening to keep up, eyes flickering between Lottie's composed calm and Leo's easy smirk.
And just as they reached the edge of the courtyard, the shift happened—subtle, almost imperceptible.
Lottie's body tensed, a flicker of instinct sparking down her spine. Across the courtyard, Evelyn emerged, her hair glinting in the sun, her smile slow and smooth, her eyes cold as frost. Around her, the air seemed to ripple, the cluster of friends leaning in as though to catch every word, every breath.
Their gazes collided across the distance, and in that crackling silence, Lottie felt it: the coil of tension winding tighter, the promise of the next strike hanging just out of reach.
Amy's breath hitched, the sound sharp and tight. "She's here…"
Leo's voice came soft at Lottie's ear, almost a laugh. "Game on, Hayes."
Lottie's lips curved, slow as the drawing of a bowstring. "Let her come."
The crowd surged and swayed, the noise of voices rising like a tide, but at the heart of it, Lottie stood steady, her pulse hammering, her fingers cool at her sides, her eyes bright with the shimmer of war not yet declared but already inevitable.
Amy let out a faint, helpless laugh, half-choked on nerves. "You're really not scared, are you?"
Lottie glanced at her, the softness of her expression catching Amy off guard. "I've already seen the worst," she murmured. "This?" Her smile sharpened. "This is just the overture."
Amy shivered, pulling her sleeves down over her hands, casting a glance toward the milling crowd. Her voice dropped, almost a plea. "Just—just tell me you're not going to do this alone."
"I'm not alone," Lottie said quietly, feeling the faint brush of Leo's presence at her shoulder, the silent weight of Amy's anxious loyalty beside her. "Not this time."
Leo's hand ghosted briefly against her back, a fleeting touch, like a secret promise. His voice came soft and edged with a grin. "Told you, didn't I? Temporary crowns."
The sun slipped lower, casting the courtyard in thin, pale gold. The hum of voices thickened, a restless tide coiling beneath the surface. And as Evelyn lifted her chin, eyes narrowing across the distance, Lottie drew in a breath and let it out slow, steady, unshaken.
The air between them vibrated, a held note stretched to the point of breaking. And Lottie felt it—not fear, not dread, but the fierce, electric pulse of the moment just before the strike.