The bell rang before Zac could send another text.

Roxie grabbed her bag and left the water cup on the table. Across the cafeteria, Zac still had his phone in his hand, eyes fixed on her like he wanted to cross the room and knew he couldn’t.

"Roxie," Angela said, following her out of the cafeteria.

"I’m going to class."

Karen fell into step beside them, fries still in her hand. "That was very dramatic for no reason."

Roxie kept walking. "I just wanted to go to the next class faster."

Karen scrunched her face. "No one is excited to go to AP Calculus that fast."

Roxie looked at her. "You should be. You’re failing it."

Angela glanced at Roxie’s bag when her phone buzzed again.

Roxie ignored it.

Karen leaned closer. "I feel like this is not about grades. Are you angry or something?"

"No."

Angela’s eyes softened. "Roxie."

"I’m fine."

Karen held her hand out and stopped her from walking. "Are you avoiding Zac Prescott?"

Roxie’s heart thudded. "What? No."

She forced herself to roll her eyes and pulled her hand away, already thinking too hard about why she had stormed out of the cafeteria so fast.

"I just can’t stay in there because of the smell. And I’m on a diet."

Angela’s expression changed. "That is a terrible reason."

Karen pointed a fry at Roxie. "Yeah, but it sounds like something you’d say, so I believe it halfway."

"Come on." Roxie pushed through the hallway crowd before either of them could ask more.

Classes after lunch barely counted as classes.

Every room buzzed like the pep rally had already started inside the walls. Teachers tried to talk over whispers, phones, candy wrappers, and students asking if they could leave early to change. Half the school wore black already, even though Blackout Friday was still days away.

The announcements kept cutting into class.

"Reminder, students, Winter Formal tickets are on sale during lunch and after school."

A crackle.

"Student Council volunteers for the State Semifinal send-off, please report to the gym after sixth period."

Another crackle.

"Friday’s theme is blackout. Wear black. Bring signs. Show your Raven pride."

Roxie sat through it with her pen in her hand and no notes on the page.

Karen leaned toward her. "You coming with someone to Winter Formal?"

Roxie leaned back and smirked. "Stop trying to make this happen, Karen. I’m talking to exactly zero quarterbacks behind your back."

Karen lifted both hands. "I’m just asking. But if you’re hiding something, I’m going to find out."

Roxie rolled her eyes, but the guilt sat heavy in her chest.

What if she just told them?

Wouldn’t that be easier?

Then Zac’s name would come out. Then the questions would come. Then one secret would turn into five, and Roxie had too many weak spots already.

Her phone buzzed twice in her bag.

She let it.

Her hands still stung from the Grill. Her legs ached every time she shifted in her chair. Her stomach had settled into that quiet empty feeling that made everything around her brighter and farther away.

School spirit looked easy when your biggest problem was finding the right outfit for Friday.

By sixth period, even Mr. Smith gave up.

Not in the fun way.

Mr. Smith never gave up in the fun way.

He was old enough to make every senior sit straighter without raising his voice. His hair was thin and gray, his glasses sat low on his nose, and his face looked like it had been disappointed in teenagers since before any of them were born.

He stood in front of the board with a piece of chalk in his hand and stared at the class until the whispers died.

Nobody liked being stared at by Mr. Smith.

It felt like detention was already forming somewhere nearby.

"Since some of you have decided the pep rally is more important than derivatives," he said, voice dry and flat, "we will work silently."

A football player near the window groaned. "Sir, it’s Spirit Week."

Mr. Smith looked at him.

The boy shut up.

"Spirit does not solve limits," Mr. Smith said.

Karen leaned closer to Roxie and whispered, "That should be on his grave."

Roxie pressed her lips together.

Mr. Smith’s eyes moved toward them.

Karen sat straight so fast her chair squeaked.

Mr. Smith turned to the board and wrote five problems in neat, hard lines.

"Copy. Solve. Show your work. Anyone who believes school spirit is a substitute for work may test that theory on the next quiz."

The room went quiet.

For about twelve seconds.

The speaker crackled again.

"Cheer team members, please report to the gym at this time."

Karen dropped her pencil like it had burned her. "I have never loved school announcements more."

Angela gathered her things quickly. "You still have to finish those problems later."

Karen looked offended. "Why would you hurt me when we have school spirit to perform?"

Roxie grabbed her bag and stood. "Because she cares about your future."

"My future hates calculus."

Mr. Smith watched all three of them from the front of the room.

"Roxie. Karen. Angela."

They stopped.

Mr. Smith’s eyes moved over them one by one. "Bring the same energy to tomorrow’s quiz that you bring to cheer."

Karen smiled. "So loud and aggressive?"

"Correct answers would be better."

Angela nodded. "Yes, sir."

Roxie tightened her grip on her bag strap. "Yes, sir."

Mr. Smith looked at Roxie for a second longer. His voice lowered, but Angela and Karen were still close enough to hear.

"And eat something before you perform."

Roxie’s face went still.

Angela looked at her.

Karen’s smile faded slightly.

Great.

Apparently everyone had eyes now.

Roxie gave Mr. Smith a small smile that showed nothing. "Yes, sir."

He nodded once and turned back to the board.

The three of them stepped into the hallway together.

Karen leaned closer. "Why is every adult suddenly obsessed with feeding you?"

Roxie kept walking. "Because adults love being dramatic."

Angela’s voice was gentle. "Roxie, I love you, and you know that, but you’re really getting skinny."

"Is that a compliment?" Roxie raised her eyebrow.

"I give up."

"Thank you."

The hallway outside had already turned into organized chaos. Student Council members carried rolls of streamers, poster boards, tape, and buckets of black and red decorations. A teacher yelled at someone for running. Two freshmen dragged a huge sign that said BRING IT HOME and nearly took out a trash can.

Roxie adjusted her bag and headed toward the gym with Angela and Karen beside her.

Karen watched them pass. "That sign is going to kill somebody before Friday."

Angela tightened her grip on her books. "They should carry it sideways."

"They should carry themselves to common sense," Karen said.

Roxie would have answered, but football had been released too.

She saw them before she reached the corner.

Mason was walking backward, talking with his hands. Kyle had a roll of athletic tape around his wrist. Zac walked between them, black hoodie half zipped, hair still a little messy from whatever meeting they had come from.

Roxie’s steps slowed before she could stop herself.

Zac saw her.

His face changed by a fraction.

Zac passed close enough that Roxie caught the clean scent of his hoodie under the hallway smell of paper, sweat, and floor wax.

His fingers twitched at his side.

Hers tightened around her bag strap.

Karen’s eyes flicked between them.

Roxie kept walking.

The phone buzzed before she turned the corner.

She knew it was him.

She ignored it.

Coach Miller was already in the gym when they arrived, standing near the bleachers with a clipboard in one hand and the face of a man who had found three hundred things wrong with the world before lunch.

"Finally," he said.

Karen spread her arms. "We were released by the ancient man of calculus."

Coach Miller looked at her. "Wonderful. The ancient man of cheer has work for you."

Karen lowered her arms. "I respect elders."

"Start respecting faster." Coach Miller pointed toward the side hallway. "Pom poms are still in the storage box. Roxie, get them. Angela, help Student Council with the cheer banner. Karen, water bottles by the mat. Move."

Roxie headed toward the side hallway before her body could complain louder.

The storage box sat near the bench behind the gym doors, half open, silver and black pom poms spilling out like someone had thrown them in during a crime. She bent down, and her vision dipped with her.

For a breath, the floor shifted.

Roxie grabbed the edge of the box.

Great.

Mr. Smith said one thing, and suddenly her body wanted to be dramatic about it.

She blinked hard until the hallway steadied.

Her phone buzzed again.

She pulled it out.

Zac: Give me two minutes.

Roxie stared at the message.

Two minutes sounded easy for him. Two minutes in a hallway. Two minutes away from everyone. Two minutes where he could look at her like she was his and then go back out there where nobody knew.

Her thumb hovered over the screen.

Footsteps came from the far end.

"Roxie."

She sighed, still bent over the open storage box.

What the hell was he doing here?