Chapter 25 — Undercover
The box sat on my desk for two days.
I didn’t open it.
Not because I was afraid of what was inside.
Because I knew whatever it held would change the shape of my silence.
On the third night, I slid my thumb under the cardboard flap.
The lid lifted with a soft rasp.
Inside, wrapped in tissue paper, was my jade charm.
The cord was frayed at the knot.
The green stone looked darker than I remembered, as if it had absorbed years of skin and sweat and fear.
I held it between my fingers.
Cool edge. Smooth face.
A weight I hadn’t realized I’d been missing until it returned.
My breath caught anyway.
Not in tears.
In a shallow, involuntary inhale—like my ribs were trying to protect my heart.
I turned the charm over.
A faint scorch mark traced one side.
Not enough to crack it.
Enough to prove where it had been.
I closed my fist around it and felt the stone press into my palm.
A bruise without pain.
Downstairs, the house settled.
Pipes clicking.
A floorboard sighing.
Noah’s door stayed shut.
The hallway bulb outside his room held steady, no flicker tonight.
Julian texted once.
**Walk tomorrow?**
I typed back.
**Yes.**
Nothing else.
It was enough.
At school the next week, a guidance counselor called me in.
A small office that smelled like peppermint gum and old paper.
A poster on the wall: *Your story matters.*
I stared at it and thought about how many stories were built to poison people.
“I have an opportunity for you,” the counselor said. “Student journalism program. Paid internship. Investigative work.”
My fingers tightened around the strap of my bag.
“What kind of investigative work?” I asked.
She slid a folder across the desk.
A local company.
A factory on the edge of Riverton’s industrial district.
Complaints from parents.
Kids getting sick.
Unregulated supplements sold in bright packaging.
A story no one wanted to touch because it could turn ugly fast.
My heartbeat picked up.
Not excitement.
Focus.
“What would I be doing?” I asked.
“Observing,” she said. “Documenting. Staying smart.”
I nodded once.
My mouth felt dry.
Outside her office, the hallway lights were too bright.
Everything looked overly clean.
I could still feel the jade charm’s cool edge against my palm through my pocket.
As if it was reminding me I could survive being afraid.
After school, Julian waited near the gate.
Hands in his pockets.
No crowd.
No noise.
When I reached him, he didn’t ask what was wrong.
He just matched my pace.
Streetlights came on as we walked.
Our shadows stretched ahead, long and narrow.
I watched them for a moment.
Then I slid my hand into my pocket and curled my fingers around the jade charm.
The stone pressed back.
Julian glanced sideways.
Not at my face—at my pocket, the motion.
He didn’t ask.
He only said, “You’re thinking hard.”
I exhaled through my nose.
“Yeah,” I said.
Julian nodded once.
“Okay.”
That was how he loved.
Not with pressure.
With room.
At my front gate, he paused.
He didn’t touch me.
He didn’t lean in.
He only looked at my face like he was memorizing it in soft light.
“Text me when you’re inside,” he said.
I nodded.
I walked in.
The porch light clicked behind me.
Warm square of safety.
I pressed my back to the door and let my breath out in a slow line.
Then I went upstairs and opened the internship folder.
The paper smelled faintly chemical.
Ink and toner.
A warning disguised as opportunity.
---