Chapter3: ThatDay in the Court

THE CLOCK TICKED PAST NOON IN THE SUN-WARMED CLASSROOM. DUST FLOATED

LAZILY IN THE SUNLIGHT CUTTING THROUGH TALL ARCHED WINDOWS, AND THE

SOFT HUM OF A BORING LECTURE FILLED THE AIR.

FIORA WAS HALF-ASLEEP, HER CHEEK RESTING AGAINST HER CURLED PALM. HER EYES

KEPT CLOSING EVERY FEW SECONDS, FIGHTING BACK THE HEAVINESS OF THE NIGHT

SHE COULDN’T SHAKE OFF. THAT SAME WHISPER. THAT SAME COLD.

SHE DIDN’T NOTICE WHEN THE TEACHER’S VOICE ROSE.

“FIORA!”

SHE JUMPED UP, BLINKING.

“Y-YES, MA’AM?”

“YOU’RE SLEEPING IN MY CLASS AGAIN. ARE YOU ALRIGHT?”

EVERYONE CHUCKLED. FIORA SMILED AWKWARDLY AND NODDED. “SORRY, JUST. . .

TIRED.”

THE TEACHER SIGHED AND WENT BACK TO HER LESSON, AND FIORA LET OUT A SMALL

BREATH, SINKING BACK IN HER CHAIR.

AT LUNCH BREAK, SHE SAT IN THE GARDEN NEAR THE OLD STONE WALL, A TRAY OF

BARELY-TOUCHED PASTA IN FRONT OF HER. ACROSS HER SAT ALESSIA, HER

ROOMMATE AND ONLY REAL FRIEND IN THIS CITY. THE BREEZE TOUSLED HER WAVY

HAIR AS SHE SQUINTED AT FIORA.

“YOU’VE BEEN ACTING WEIRD LATELY. WHAT’S GOING ON?” ALESSIA ASKED, POKING AT

HER OWN FOOD WITH A FORK.

FIORA GAVE HER A HALF-SMILE. “IT’S NOTHING.”

“OH COME ON, FIORA. YOU’RE NOT EATING, YOU LOOK LIKE YOU HAVEN’T SLEPT IN

WEEKS, AND YOU JUMPED LIKE SOMEONE SET YOU ON FIRE IN CLASS TODAY. SPILL IT.”

FIORA PICKED AT HER SANDWICH. “IT’S JUST. . . I DON’T KNOW. EVER SINCE THAT

NIGHT, THINGS HAVE BEEN. . . OFF.”

“YOU MEAN THE VOICE THING?”

FIORA NODDED.

“YOU ALREADY KNOW WHAT I THINK. YOU DIDN’T TAKE YOUR MEDICINE THAT NIGHT,

REMEMBER?”

“ALESSIA,” FIORA SAID SOFTLY, “YOU REALLY THINK THAT’S WHAT IT WAS? A SIDE

EFFECT? I’VE HAD THIS CONDITION FOR YEARS. I’VE SKIPPED MEDICINE BEFORE — NOT

PROUD OF IT, BUT — IT’S NEVER BEEN LIKE THIS.”

SHE STARED AT THE GRASS.

“I LEFT MY BUSINESS COLLEGE IN THIRD YEAR, EVEN THOUGH I WAS A DAMN

TOPPER. I DIDN’T EVEN JOIN MY FATHER’S COMPANY. I WAS SUPPOSED TO BE DOING

SOMETHING BIG, SOMETHING REAL. AND NOW I’M HERE. . . CHASING SHADOWS IN

MY HEAD.”

NOW. YOU CHOSE THIS PATH.”

“I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHY I CHOSE THIS PATH,” FIORA WHISPERED. “MAYBE. . . MAYBE I

JUST WANTED TO UNDERSTAND WHAT’S HAPPENING TO ME.”

FOR A MOMENT, NEITHER OF THEM SPOKE.

FIORA TRIED TO SHAKE IT OFF AND SMILED, BRUSHING SOME PASTA TOWARD ALESSIA.

“WANT MINE?”

“NO THANKS, I DON’T EAT HAUNTED CARBS,” ALESSIA GRINNED.

FIORA LAUGHED. A REAL ONE THIS TIME. “YOU’RE THE WORST.”

“LOVE YOU TOO.”

LATER THAT DAY – BADMINTON PERIOD

THE SKY HAD STARTED TO DIM, CASTING LONG SHADOWS ON THE OLD STONE WALLS

OF THE CAMPUS COURT. THE GYM BUZZED WITH LIFE — SNEAKERS SQUEAKING,

SHUTTLECOCKS FLYING, AND STUDENTS LAUGHING.

EVERYONE WAS PLAYING.

EVERYONE — EXCEPT FIORA AND LUCA.

FIORA SAT NEAR THE BENCHES, HER SNEAKERS LOOSELY TIED, EYES WATCHING THE

OTHERS PLAY WITHOUT INTEREST. BADMINTON WASN’T REALLY HER THING. SHE WAS

MORE OF A FOOTBALL GIRL. SHE LIKED WILD GAMES. BRUISES. THAT FEELING OF

RUNNING WITHOUT THINKING.

BUT RIGHT NOW, HER ATTENTION WAS STUCK ON HIM.

LUCA.

HE WAS ON THE THIRD BENCH, HEAD TILTED BACK, EYES CLOSED. HIS FINGERS RESTED

TIREDLY ON THE DESK LIKE HE WAS HOLDING ONTO SLEEP. HIS FACE LOOKED WORN

OUT — THE KIND OF TIRED YOU DON’T GET FROM JUST ONE BAD NIGHT.

PEOPLE THOUGHT HE WAS JUST A QUIET WEIRDO. THE KIND YOU IGNORE UNLESS HE

BUMPS INTO YOU. BUT FIORA HAD WATCHED HIM DIFFERENTLY, QUIETLY. THERE WAS

SOMETHING ABOUT HIM THAT WASN’T. . . NORMAL.

NOT IN A CREEPY WAY.

IN A TOO-QUIET KIND OF WAY. LIKE HE KNEW SOMETHING THE REST DIDN’T.

SHE STOOD UP, WALKED TOWARD THE BENCH, A STRANGE PULL IN HER CHEST.

HE DIDN’T MOVE. NOT EVEN WHEN SHE GOT CLOSE. SHE REACHED OUT, HESITATING. . .

THEN GENTLY PLACED HER HAND OVER HIS ON THE WOODEN BENCH.

HIS HAND TWITCHED, BUT HE DIDN’T OPEN HIS EYES.

AND THAT’S WHEN SHE SAW HER AGAIN.

THAT WOMAN.

STANDING RIGHT BEHIND LUCA.

WHITE DRESS. STILL. PALE SKIN. HAIR LOOSE AND SOAKED LIKE SHE HAD WALKED OUT

OF A STORM. EYES. . . EMPTY. FOCUSED. UNBLINKING.

FIORA’S BREATH HITCHED.

HER HEART RACED.

SHE BLINKED.

GONE.

JUST LUCA.

JUST A BENCH.

AND THE LOUD SMASH OF A SHUTTLECOCK AGAINST THE WALL.

ALESSIA FROWNED. “HEY. DON’T TALK LIKE THAT. YOU’RE DOING WHAT YOU WANT

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