Jenna Ortiz sat cross-legged on the quad's central bench, surrounded by her usual halo of backup dancers, friends who wanted to be backup dancers, and a boy named Oliver who followed her around with a ring light.
She was in full performance mode — even at lunch.
Phone in hand, earbuds in, brows furrowed.
"Who the hell is this?" she muttered.
Someone had just sent her a link. A voice. A song. Anonymous. But posted under the name Eli Hart.
It wasn't on Spotify. Not yet. But the SoundCloud link had 12,000 plays already — and rising.
She played the track again. And again.
And her jaw set harder each time.
> I don't remember how I died.
But silence is worse when you're alive…
The lyrics had teeth. But it was the voice that made her stomach twist.
It wasn't trained. Not like hers.
But it was honest. And that made it dangerous.
Jenna stood.
"I need to know who posted this," she snapped. "Now."
---
Elsewhere...
Alex sat at the edge of the courtyard, textbook open, but not really reading.
The song was still in her head. It had roots now. Deep ones.
That's when she heard the high-heeled click-click-click of incoming ego.
"Hey, Dunphy."
She looked up.
Jenna.
Predictably overdressed. Predictably over-smiling.
"Have you heard this random new guy everyone's obsessed with?"
Alex blinked. "...No?"
"Oh, come on." Jenna thrust her phone forward. "Everyone says it's someone from our school. Like, low-key genius vibes. Emotional. Probably lives in a basement with a guitar and three trauma playlists."
Alex's mouth went dry.
"I mean, it's cute," Jenna went on, waving a manicured hand. "But let's not pretend he's some prodigy. I could sing circles around this."
Alex closed her book. "You sure about that?"
Jenna tilted her head. "What?"
"You sound a little... nervous."
"I'm not nervous."
"You're sweating."
"I'm glowing."
Alex stood slowly, slinging her bag over her shoulder.
"Maybe the reason you don't like him is because people don't have to watch him to believe him."
Jenna narrowed her eyes. "Are you saying I'm fake?"
Alex didn't flinch.
"I'm saying whoever he is, he doesn't need backup dancers."
She walked away before Jenna could reply.
Behind her, Jenna clicked her nails against her phone like a threat.