The first Monday of September at Ridgewood High was painted with gray skies and the whisper of autumn in the air. Students shuffled in through the wide glass doors, reluctant to let go of summer. Inside the hallways, chatter buzzed like static—friends reuniting, teachers giving half-hearted welcomes, and everyone pretending the school year wouldn’t eat them alive.

Amaya Rivera spun her locker dial with one hand while balancing her iced latte with the other, humming along to whatever song was playing in her head. Her dark brown curls were pulled into a loose bun, and her navy hoodie bore the Ridgewood Raven’s logo. Life was good. Senior year was supposed to be the best year of her life—especially when you were dating the school's basketball captain, had straight A’s, and your mom was the school principal.

“Hey, Amaya!” her friend Lacey whispered harshly, nudging her in the ribs. “New girl. Behind you. Look.”

Amaya arched an eyebrow and turned. Her eyes landed on a girl who walked with a quiet air, hands in the pockets of her jacket, a black messenger bag slung over one shoulder. Her dark hair was short and cleanly cut, just above the jawline, and she had that casual, effortlessly cool look that made half the girls at Ridgewood instantly jealous and the other half suddenly unsure of their own fashion choices.

But it wasn’t just the clothes or the swagger. There was something else—something distant and unreadable about her.

“That’s her,” Lacey whispered. “Yasmine Alina. Transferred from... somewhere? I don’t know, nobody does. But she’s in our class. Word is she’s in junior year, but Principal Rivera had to vouch for her.”

Amaya’s interest piqued. “My mom didn’t mention anything.”

“Well, maybe she figured you'd find out the usual way—by being nosy.”

Amaya grinned, “Touché.”

She caught Yasmine’s eyes briefly as the girl walked past. They were pale—almost silver-gray. There was no emotion in them, just stillness. Like she was scanning the hallway, calculating... something.

Fourth Period – Art Class

Yasmine didn’t speak. Not when Mr. Carr asked her to introduce herself. Not when the girls at the back giggled and whispered. She simply nodded at the teacher’s request, pulled out a sketchpad from her bag, and started drawing in the back corner.

It wasn’t long before Amaya caught herself glancing over her shoulder. She could see the edge of Yasmine’s sketchpad, the way her hand moved with purpose, soft lines growing into shadows and details. Curiosity bloomed.

“Alright,” Mr. Carr said. “Group critique today. Pair up and discuss your portfolio progress.”

Amaya saw her chance.

She turned in her chair and approached. “Hey. Mind if I join?”

Yasmine didn’t respond immediately. Her eyes flicked up, measuring. “Sure,” she said softly.

Amaya pulled a stool over. “I’m Amaya. My mom’s the principal, but I swear I don’t tattle unless you’re selling drugs or committing murder.”

Yasmine didn’t laugh. But her lips twitched.

“I sketch sometimes,” Amaya said, “but I’m better at running my mouth. Talking’s kind of my art.”

Yasmine looked down at her sketch. It was a detailed graphite drawing of a park bench under a streetlamp. Stark shadows. Quiet atmosphere.

“This is... really good,” Amaya said, surprised. “Like, really good. You could sell this.”

“I draw for myself,” Yasmine replied, eyes still on the page.

“Hmm. Mysterious. You say that like you’re not going to be the next big art girl on campus.”

Yasmine’s gaze flicked up again. “And you say that like popularity matters.”

That caught Amaya off-guard. She laughed. “Touche again. You’re sharp.”

“I just observe.”

“Well,” Amaya said, “you can observe me talking your ear off after class. Want to hang out? There’s a coffee shop near here. My treat.”

Yasmine hesitated. Then, slowly, she nodded.

After School – Cuppa Raven

It became routine after that.

Every Friday, Amaya dragged Yasmine to the coffee shop across from Ridgewood’s front gate. She’d order her usual vanilla latte, Yasmine stuck with iced black coffee. They always sat at the same booth—the one near the window where Yasmine could sketch and Amaya could talk about everything and nothing.

Kai Donner didn’t seem to mind at first. The school’s golden boy and star athlete, he was used to Amaya having her own world outside of him. But eventually, his texts started getting colder. Shorter. His attention started drifting. Amaya noticed, but said nothing.

Because Yasmine had this stillness about her. A space where Amaya could let her thoughts run wild. And lately, that space started feeling safer than the one she shared with her boyfriend.

Yasmine’s POV – The Mission

At night, the voice on the other end of the encrypted line was clear.

“You’re running out of time, Alina.”

“I know,” she replied, staring out her apartment window. The city lights were blurred by fog.

“Why the delay?”

“He’s always with the target’s girlfriend. I can’t isolate him without her getting in the way.”

“Then improvise. The window closes in three weeks.”

Yasmine ended the call, set the burner phone down, and looked at the photo taped to the mirror.

Kai Donner.

Smiling in his Ridgewood basketball uniform. Arm around Amaya Rivera.

The next week at Ridgewood High passed with the heavy drag of late summer heat, but inside the art club room, it was always calm—almost frozen in time. The air smelled faintly of graphite, old paint, and eucalyptus from an air freshener someone left behind last semester. A single fan hummed in the corner, stirring up Yasmine’s sketchbook pages as she sat near the back window, pencil dancing across the paper.

Amaya pushed the door open with her usual burst of energy.

“There you are! You just sneak off after class like a ghost,” she said, plopping her bag onto the dusty table beside Yasmine. “I had to ask two teachers and Lacey just to figure out you joined the art club.”

Yasmine didn’t look up right away. She was outlining the edge of a figure seated on a bench—head down, hands tucked into pockets.

“You’re early,” Yasmine murmured.

“Nope, you’re just always here before anyone else,” Amaya replied, grinning. She leaned over slightly. “Whoa. That’s the same bench from your last drawing, right?”

Yasmine nodded.

“It’s beautiful. I mean, the way you shade it? It feels lonely—but not sad. More like… peaceful. Do you draw from memory?”

“Sometimes,” Yasmine said. “Sometimes I just imagine it.”

Amaya rested her chin on her hand. “Do you draw people?”

Yasmine hesitated.

“Not usually,” she answered softly. “People don’t stay still long enough.”

Amaya smiled. “You haven’t met me yet. I can sit still for hours if you give me snacks.”

That earned the smallest flicker of a smile from Yasmine—a twitch of the corner of her mouth, so subtle it could’ve been imagined.

Later That Week – Lunch Break

The cafeteria was its usual jungle of noise—metal trays clattering, kids laughing too loudly, someone FaceTiming their cousin from a lunch line, for some reason. Amaya sat beside Kai, their trays untouched.

“You’ve been kinda quiet lately,” he said between sips of Gatorade.

“Just tired,” Amaya replied, eyes flicking toward the entrance.

Kai glanced in the same direction. “You mean the new girl?”

Amaya blinked. “What?”

“You’ve been staring at her since she walked in.”

“I haven’t—”

Kai shrugged. “It’s cool. She’s got that weird quiet vibe. Like a spy in a teen movie.”

Amaya forced a laugh. “She’s just... interesting.”

Kai’s gaze lingered on her a moment longer, then dropped back to his tray. “So is it art club now every afternoon?”

“Yeah. Yasmine’s the only one who really shows up. It’s kinda nice.”

“Hm.” His answer was short. Noncommittal. And for the first time, Amaya noticed how he didn’t even ask what they talked about.

After School – Art Club Room

It had become a habit now.

Amaya sat on the windowsill, scrolling through her phone, while Yasmine sketched. Sometimes Amaya rambled about teachers, sometimes about random dreams, sometimes about how her mom never let her stay out past ten.

Yasmine would nod occasionally, sometimes pause to sharpen her pencil, but she never seemed annoyed. Just... quietly present.

“Can I ask something?” Amaya said one afternoon, her voice softer than usual.

Yasmine looked up.

“Why don’t you hang out with anyone else? I mean, people obviously notice you. You’ve got that mysterious vibe. It’s like... people want to know you, but you don’t let them.”

Yasmine was silent for a moment, her hand still resting on her sketchpad.

“Because the more people you know,” she said slowly, “the easier it is to lose pieces of yourself.”

Amaya frowned. “That’s kind of sad.”

“It’s the truth.”

Amaya tilted her head. “Maybe. But maybe it depends on the people.”

Yasmine met her gaze. “Maybe.”

Yasmine’s POV – Surveillance

Yasmine leaned against the metal railing of the school’s upper stairwell, overlooking the basketball court. Kai Donner was there—shirt damp with sweat, laughing with teammates. He was sharp, focused, and loud. Very different from the quiet girl he was dating.

She watched his movements carefully. Patterns. His reactions. The way he instinctively scanned the court before making a move. His reflexes were impressive.

She made mental notes:

Weekday practice: 4:30–6:30 PMAlways exits via rear gym doorsOccasionally walks home with AmayaA good killer didn't just look for weakness. They learned the rhythm of their target’s life.

She turned away from the railing, pulled out her phone, and opened a secure app. One unread message.

Time limit approaching. You are 13 days behind schedule. Failure is not tolerated.

She closed the app. Her reflection in the stairwell window stared back at her, unreadable.

Saturday – Cuppa Raven

“Try this,” Amaya said, handing Yasmine a cup with whipped cream practically spilling over the lid. “Caramel matcha cream float. Best thing on the menu. No take-backs.”

Yasmine raised an eyebrow but took the drink. She took one sip and blinked.

“…That’s very sweet.”

“I know! Like, hurt-your-teeth sweet.”

“I’ll need water after this.”

Amaya laughed and leaned her head against the windowpane, watching the street traffic outside. Her reflection, overlapping with Yasmine’s, caught her off-guard. For a split second, she imagined reaching out, brushing her fingers against Yasmine’s cheek.

She shook the thought off and took a long sip of her latte.

“You ever fall for someone you weren’t supposed to?” she asked.

Yasmine looked at her, eyes calm. “Like... forbidden love?”

“No,” Amaya said quickly, flustered. “Not like, Romeo-and-Juliet forbidden. Just... complicated. Messy. Stupid.”

“Yeah,” Yasmine said after a long pause. “I have.”

Their eyes met again. But neither said anything more.

Later That Night – Yasmine’s Apartment

In her small, sparsely decorated room, Yasmine sat at her desk, flipping through sketches. One in particular caught her attention—a rough outline of a girl with curly hair and soft eyes, sitting on a windowsill.

She stared at it for a long time. Then crumpled the page and tossed it into the waste bin.

She reached for her burner phone. This time, she dialed.

The voice on the other end answered immediately. “Status?”

“Delay,” Yasmine said. “He’s aware of being watched.”

A pause. “Are you compromised?”

Yasmine’s eyes narrowed. “No.”

“Then complete the mission. No more stalling. We’re watching.”

The line clicked dead.

Yasmine sat in the silence, heart steady. But deep in her chest, something shifted.

She reached down and pulled the sketch from the trash. Smoothed it flat. Looked at Amaya’s penciled smile—and for the first time, wondered what the cost of failure might feel like.

Saturday mornings had a routine all their own. Ridgewood’s downtown district, just a ten-minute walk from the school, buzzed with a mix of sleepy locals and students pretending they weren’t stressing about college applications. But for Amaya and Yasmine, it was their little bubble.

Cuppa Raven’s corner booth by the window had unofficially become theirs.

“You ever wonder if we’re wasting our youth?” Amaya said, stirring her vanilla latte. “Like, we should be out doing something wild. Breaking rules. Falling in love with bad decisions.”

Yasmine, sipping black coffee without cream or sugar, tilted her head. “And instead, you’re sitting in a café with me.”

Amaya grinned. “Exactly. The lamest rebel arc of all time.”

Outside, the wind blew fallen leaves along the sidewalk, their dance quiet and chaotic. Inside, Amaya talked—about how her mom was pressuring her to apply to Ivy Leagues, about how Kai had barely texted her that week, about how school felt like a prison of fake smiles.

Yasmine listened, pencil gliding across her sketchpad. No words, no interruptions. Just the scratch of graphite and the occasional sip of coffee.

“I think he’s cheating on me,” Amaya said suddenly.

The pencil paused.

“With who?”

Amaya shrugged. “No idea. Maybe no one. Maybe just... with the idea of not having me anymore.”

Silence lingered between them.

“You’re easy to like,” Yasmine finally said, eyes on her sketch. “He’s an idiot if he’s drifting.”

Amaya blinked, caught off-guard by the compliment. “That... might be the nicest thing anyone’s said to me this month.”

“It’s just the truth.”

Amaya felt her heart stir—not because she liked being complimented, but because it was Yasmine. Her quiet, boyish, unreadable Yasmine who rarely said anything at all.

Sunday – The Riverwalk Park

“Bet you’ve never been here,” Amaya said, dragging Yasmine along the cracked walking trail. The river was slow and brown, its surface glinting under the morning sun. The trees were just beginning to turn orange and gold.

“I don’t usually come to places like this,” Yasmine admitted.

“Well, today you do.” Amaya flopped onto the grass, arms spread. “Lay down. C’mon.”

Yasmine hesitated, then sat beside her—stiff at first, but eventually reclined against the slope. Their shoulders brushed lightly. Neither pulled away.

“I used to come here with Kai. But he’s more of a talk-about-sports kind of guy. You know what I mean?”

Yasmine nodded. “Surface-level.”

“Yeah. Like... sometimes I wonder if he’s even in the same world as me.”

Amaya plucked a blade of grass, rolling it between her fingers.

“You feel like you’re in a different world than most people, Yasmine?”

A pause. “Every day.”

Amaya turned her head, studying her.

“Where are you really from?”

Yasmine’s eyes stayed on the sky. “Far away.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one I’ve got.”

“Okay, secret agent,” Amaya said, nudging her. “Keep your mystery. Just know—whatever world you’re from, I think I like it.”

Yasmine didn’t reply, but she let her eyes close. For a moment, the silence between them wasn’t empty. It was warm. Safe.

Yasmine’s POV – Observation Log

Subject: Kai Donner

Spotted leaving school at 6:45 PM on ThursdayRoute: Gym → Locker Room → Parking LotAloneVulnerable point: West gate exit, minimal foot trafficAttempt failed due to Amaya Rivera interceptingYasmine reviewed her notes with steady hands. Each line was written with cold precision. But her thoughts kept drifting.

She remembered Amaya’s laughter by the river. The way her curls caught the light. The sound of her breath when she yawned and stretched and let her guard down completely.

She was starting to invade the edges of the mission.

Monday – Hallway Whispers

“Did you see them at the café again?”

“I heard she’s obsessed with the new girl.”

“They say Kai’s been flirting with that art chick too.”

“Crazy love triangle incoming.”

Amaya slammed her locker shut harder than necessary. The hallway buzzed with rumors, and her name had started appearing in all the wrong places. Normally, she wouldn’t care. But this time, it cut deeper.

Because she wasn’t sure it wasn’t true.

She made her way to the art club after school, ignoring Kai’s half-hearted wave from down the hall.

Art Club – After School

“You sketching me again?” Amaya asked with a teasing smile as she walked in.

Yasmine looked up. There was no sketch in front of her—just a blank page.

“I wasn’t sketching anything.”

“Liar. You’ve got that look.”

“What look?”

Amaya walked over and sat beside her, close. “That look like you’re seeing something no one else can.”

Yasmine turned her gaze to her, and for a second, their faces were barely inches apart.

“I see everything,” she whispered.

Amaya’s breath hitched.

“You ever kiss someone you’re not supposed to?” she asked.

Yasmine’s eyes didn’t waver. “No.”

“Me neither.” Amaya’s smile faltered. “But I think I’m getting close.”

Neither of them moved. Neither spoke.

Then the door creaked open, and a janitor peeked in. “You girls still in here?”

The spell broke. Amaya stood up too fast, grabbing her bag.

“Gotta go. My mom’ll kill me if I’m late again.”

Yasmine stayed in her seat, watching her go. In her hand, she finally let the pencil move.

The sketch took shape quickly—Amaya mid-laugh, head tilted slightly, eyes bright.

She didn’t crumple this one.

Kai’s POV – The Shift

Kai noticed things.

He noticed that Amaya was distracted. That she smiled less when he touched her. That her texts had grown shorter, like they were obligatory.

He also noticed the way Yasmine looked at him sometimes—not flirty, not warm. Calculated.

He couldn’t prove anything. But something wasn’t right.

That girl gave him chills.

That Night – Yasmine’s Apartment

The burner phone vibrated on the desk.

You have 11 days.

Yasmine stared at the countdown. Her mission was clear.

Eliminate Kai Donner. No witnesses. No complications.

And yet, every time she closed her eyes, she saw Amaya smiling in the park. Laughing in the café. Whispering in the silence of the art room.

It was becoming a problem.

She opened her sketchbook. On the newest page was the most detailed portrait she’d ever drawn.

Amaya Rivera. Unfinished. Her eyes empty.

Yasmine placed her pencil down.

It would have to end soon.