Chapter 20 #3
But halfway across the parking lot, I misstep, and my foot hits a deep puddle. Before I know it, I’m flat on my back, water seeping through every layer of clothing.
I groan, dragging myself upright. “Of course,” I mutter, brushing wet hair out of my face. I take a cautious step, but the mud underfoot betrays me, and I slip again, landing with a wet slap.
My bag, my shoes—everything is soaked.
“Excuse me,” a voice says from behind me.
I turn to see Paris standing there, her oversized raincoat swallowing her frame. She looks hesitant, her eyes darting toward me before quickly looking away.
“Oh, hey,” I say, trying to sound casual but sounding more winded than anything. “Did you, uh, see all that?” I gesture awkwardly to the mess I’ve made of myself.
Her lips twitch, not quite a smile. “Yeah,” she says softly, and I barely hear her over the rain.
“Of course this happens to me now,” I mutter under my breath, trying to stand up again. But as I attempt to walk away, I slip once more, landing back in the wet mess with a frustrated groan.
I rub the back of my neck, heat creeping up despite the cold. “Great,” I mutter, trying to laugh it off.
“You’re A-Adeline, right?” she asks, her voice quieter now.
“Yep, that’s me. Or Addie, if you want. I mean, you don’t have to call me that. I was just saying—” I stop myself before I ramble any further, glancing at her nervously. “Sorry,” I mumble.
“It’s fine. I’m Paris,” she says, shifting on her feet. Her eyes meet mine again, and for a second, I think she’s going to say more, but she doesn’t.
“Yeah, I know who you are.” The words come out before I can stop them, and I instantly regret it. She stiffens, her gaze dropping to the ground. Panic surges through me—did I say something wrong?
“Oh, I’m so sorry. Did I—god, I’m sorry,” I rush to say, my words tripping over themselves. “Did I make that weird?”
Paris shakes her head quickly. “N-no, it’s okay.” But there’s something uneasy in her tone, and I feel a pang of guilt. “It’s… nice to meet you,” she says, the words slightly drawn out, and it almost seems as though saying them is difficult for her. Like she’s fighting with herself just to speak.
“You heading to class? Wanna walk with me, Paris?” I ask, desperate to shift the mood.
She hesitates for a moment, then glances around before nodding shyly. “S-sure. I’d… like that.”
We fall into step, the rain still coming down in sheets. For a while, neither of us says anything.
I’ve seen Paris around before. Usually alone, sometimes with Berlin and her crowd, and of course I’ve seen her with Kai. Apart from that, she’s seemed pretty shy.
Lonely.
Maybe that’s why I’m drawn to her.
***
Finally reaching the school, I turn to speak to Paris, only to realize she’s not there.
My words catch in my throat as I spin around, scanning the crowd.
She’s gone, like literally vanished into thin air.
My pulse quickens and I do a full 360-degree turn, searching for any trace of her.
Nothing. She disappeared so quickly it feels almost surreal. How is that even possible?
In my confusion, I barely notice Bea and Lilia approaching until Lilia’s voice cuts through my frantic thoughts. “Hey, girl!” she greets me with her usual big smile, then pauses, taking in my dishevelled state. “Jesus, Addie, did you swim to school?”
Bea raises an eyebrow, her curiosity evident. “Seriously, what happened? And why do you look like you just lost your cat?”
“Not my cat,” I correct, still catching my breath. “Paris.”
They exchange puzzled looks before I explain. “I walked here with her.” My voice is clipped, distracted. “Then I fell into a puddle. Three times.”
Lilia snorts, barely holding back her laughter. “Classic.”
I sigh, glancing around the schoolyard. “I don’t get it. She was right next to me. Then she wasn’t. It’s like she disappeared into thin air.”
Bea tilts her head, thoughtful for a moment. “Maybe she had to run to class or something?”
“I guess,” I mutter, not entirely convinced.
“Oh, by the way, you’re all coming to mine after school,” Bea announces, a grin spreading across her face.
Before I can object, Lilia holds up a single finger which quickly shuts me up. “Addie, you are coming. Even if I have to drag you there myself.”
I meet her gaze and know she’s serious. Anxiety gnaws at me, and I think of the pile of things waiting for me at home. My hand reaches for the hairband I usually fiddle with, only to remember I flung it off in the car. Damnit. My fingers fidget restlessly instead.
Don’t do it Adeline.
You have too much to do.
But with a deep sigh, I relent. “Okay, fine. I’ll come.”
Lilia beams, nudging Bea. “We’re raiding your closet tonight.”
Bea rolls her eyes, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “At this rate, you’ll have taken half my wardrobe.”
“Bull. Have you seen the size of your closet?” Lilia retorts. “I’ve borrowed maybe one per cent of it.”
Bea doesn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, she rummages through her bag and pulls out a hoodie, holding it out to me. “Here. You’re shivering.”
I blink at her. “Oh, no, it’s fine. I’ll dry off eventually.”
“Nonsense.” She presses the hoodie into my hands with a small smile. “You can’t walk around wet and muddy all day.”
I hesitate at first, then eventually give in. Pulling on the hoodie, I’m immediately enveloped in warmth. “Thank you, Bea,” I say, genuinely touched. “That’s really nice of you.”
She waves it off. “It’s just a hoodie, Addie. No big deal.”
I smile at her, grateful. “You’re a lifesaver.”
***
I walk into Maths class, and my eyes immediately lock onto Will at the front, leaning back in his chair.
He’s surrounded by a swarm of people, but he’s completely still.
His eyes are unnervingly still too, fixed on some invisible point.
His arms drape lazily over the desk, fingers drumming a slow rhythm.
At first glance, he looks bored, but the longer I look, the more there seems to be something a little off about it. His head tilts slightly, and his lips pull into a faint smirk that doesn’t even try to reach his eyes.
Then his gaze snaps to me, freezing me in place. His eyes gleam now, something dangerous sparking behind them, and his smirk shifts, just a twitch at the corner of his mouth, but it feels wrong.
Heat rushes to my face, and I realize with a wave of humiliation that I probably look like a drowned rat right now.
With that in mind, I force myself to look away, my breath catching as I head toward Kym’s desk.
She doesn’t look much better than I feel. So nervous I think I might actually pass out. In fact, nervous would be an understatement. She looks absolutely terrified.
Her eyes dart around the room, never landing anywhere for long, and her hands fidget restlessly with a pencil.
She’s tapping it erratically against the desk, her fingers clutching it like it’s a lifeline, or a way to ground herself.
Her knee bounces under the desk, and her lips press together in a tight, thin line.
Sliding into the seat beside her, I lean in a little. “Hey, Kym,” I whisper softly. “You alright?”
She glances at me briefly, her smile small and strained, before her gaze darts away again.
“Are you sure?” I press, lowering my voice further.
Before she can answer, the teacher strides in, clutching a stack of papers. “Alright, class, I’ve got your test results here. Let’s get to it,” she announces.
Kym goes completely still.
Her pencil slips from her fingers, rolling across the desk, but she doesn’t seem to notice.
Her shoulders stiffen, her breathing picks up, and I notice how shallow and uneven the breaths are.
When the teacher approaches with the stack of papers, her hands grip the edge of the desk so tightly her knuckles turn white.
The paper lands in front of her with a faint slap.
“Well done, Kym,” the teacher says, sounding pleased. “Exceptional work.”
She doesn’t move.
“Kym?” I whisper, watching her closely.
Still nothing.
Her eyes flicker to the test in front of her, her hand trembling as she picks it up.
Her gaze drops to the score, and I see her entire face change.
The colour drains from her skin, and her jaw goes slack.
She blinks once, twice, as though trying to process what she’s seeing, but her expression is frozen—pure horror.
“Kym, what’s wrong?” I ask again, my voice sharper now with concern.
She doesn’t respond. Her breathing is uneven, and her hands shake as she folds the paper roughly and shoves it into her bag. Without a word, she throws the strap over her shoulder and bolts out of the classroom.
I sit there for a moment, stunned and staring after her, my chest tight. She just looked so scared. Not how she usually is. Not at all.