Chapter 6
six
I’d only been inside Northern High a handful of times.
All of them had been during the day, when the hallways were loud and chaotic and felt only marginally different from Parkhurst Prep—less polished, maybe, but still recognizably a school.
Hallways jammed with students, lockers slamming, teachers shouting reminders over the noise.
At night, it felt like a completely different place.
The sky outside had already darkened, and Northern seemed to have followed suit.
The main lights were on, but they cast long shadows down the corridors, turning everything a little muted, a little unreal.
Like the school had gone to sleep everywhere except the gym where the girl’s volleyball game was due to start.
We always came to the games to support Lavender, and tonight was no different. Even if it was at Northern.
“This place is… depressing,” Ainsley murmured, tugging her jean jacket tighter around herself as we wandered down the main hall. We’d gotten to the game a little early and decided to wander around while the teams warmed up.
I snorted quietly. “You mean it doesn’t look like a brochure?”
She elbowed me. “You know what I mean. It’s like—” She gestured vaguely down the long, empty hallway. As if on cue, one of the lone ceiling lights flickered dramatically. “Why does it feel like we’re about to get murdered?”
“That’s just because it’s quiet,” I said, even though my own nerves were humming. “And because—say it with me now—you watch too many true crime documentaries.”
She smiled, unrepentant. “Statistically speaking, schools after hours are prime murder locations.”
“There is no way that’s true.”
“You’re not supposed to question my facts if I say them with confidence,” she whined.
I laughed and kept looking around. The walls were painted a dull beige that had probably been the same color for decades, scuffed and chipped in places.
Bulletin boards were crowded with overlapping flyers—fundraisers, club meetings, tutoring schedules—some curling at the corners, some doodled on with thick black markers.
Trophy cases lined one wall, full but unpolished, the plaques scratched from years of hands brushing against them in passing.
“It’s weird being here at night,” I said. “It feels like the place is abandoned or something.”
We passed a row of lockers, dented and uneven, their surfaces marked with old stickers and scratched initials. I trailed my fingers lightly along one as we walked.
“I think I’d lose my mind if our lockers looked like this,” Ainsley said. “Can you imagine our principal seeing that?”
“She’d have an aneurysm.”
Ainsley laughed. “Or assign an essay about respect.”
We passed a set of double doors marked ADMINISTRATION, the hallway beyond them dimmer than the rest. The office lights were on, though—bright white spilling out through the narrow windows in the doors.
I barely registered it at first, too focused on the sounds growing louder as we got closer to the gym.
“Oh, thank god, a bathroom,” Ainsley said, immediately traipsing toward the marked door.
“You sure you want to go in there? You know, since schools are allegedly prime murder locations.”
She waved a hand over her shoulder and continued toward the door. “Just come running if you hear me call for help.”
I leaned against the wall as I waited for her. Then a furious voice cut through the quiet. “Do you understand how serious this is, Mr. Mercer?”
I froze automatically, feeling like I’d been the one getting in trouble, even though the voice obviously wasn’t talking to me. My gaze traveled toward the office doors, which were closed, but clearly not soundproof.
“I understand,” a boy’s voice replied. I didn’t need to see him to recognize it—Cole.
“I’m not convinced you do,” the man said. “Because if you did, we wouldn’t be standing here having this conversation again.”
“It really wasn’t a big deal.”
I looked around the hallway for anywhere else to go, anything else to do besides standing around unintentionally eavesdropping.
But besides the single bathroom Ainsley just walked into and the office across the hall, there was nowhere for me to go.
I was just… there. The hallway was empty, and the voices carried easily.
Still, I felt like I’d crossed some invisible line just by hearing this much.
“You’re skating on thin ice,” the man continued. “You know that. Every teacher in this building knows that. Every administrator.”
“I know,” Cole said. “And I said I wouldn’t do it again.”
“And yet here we are. You want to stay here? You want to graduate? Then you stop giving me reasons to have this conversation. Because I promise you, this is the last one.”
I winced at the severity of his words, a spike of fear running through me as if he were threatening my education. Another pause, longer this time.
“Yes, sir,” Cole drawled, sounding almost bored.
“This is your last warning. Not another write-up, not another meeting. Next time, I won’t have a choice. You don’t get unlimited chances.”
There were some more mumbled words that I didn’t catch.
I probably should have taken that moment to run, but before I could, Cole stepped out, one hand already pulling the door closed behind him.
His expression was neutral, controlled, but the tension was there if you looked closely—his shoulders stiff, his jaw set like he was holding something back.
His eyes lifted and before I could even consider trying to hide, they landed on me.
I froze under their scrutiny. I’d been stupid to think I could blend into the walls.
There was nowhere for me to hide—just an open stretch of hallway with one very obvious observer standing there like an idiot.
Cole exhaled, long and slow, scrubbing a hand over his face.
He leaned back against the wall, head tipping up toward the ceiling like he was counting to ten—or maybe twenty—before he did something he’d regret.
“Wow,” he said. “Prep schools are really branching out with the extracurriculars.”
“Well, I knew you went here, so I figured I’d ask the principal if he needed help. You know, so I can jot down ‘charity work’ for my college application.”
He smirked in response, though it didn’t quite land.
His jaw was tight, restless, like he wanted to be anywhere but here.
He pushed off the wall and stepped toward me, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket.
Up close, I could see the faint shadow under his eyes, the tension still coiled in his shoulders like he hadn’t fully come down from the confrontation in the office.
“What are you doing here?” he asked me. His voice was sharp, direct, demanding.
My spine straightened on instinct. “I’m allowed to be here.”
“Didn’t say you weren’t.”
“There’s a game,” I said. “Girls’ volleyball.”
He glanced past me, toward the gym, then back to me. “I thought Parkhurst kids were too good to come watch a game at Northern.”
“It’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make for my sister.”
He huffed a laugh, but before he could say anything, I blurted out, “Were you… in trouble?”
Cole’s mouth curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Does it matter?”
In the grand scheme of things, it really didn’t matter. And I wasn’t sure why I needed to know so badly, but the question was already out and I couldn’t take it back.
I shrugged. “I was just curious.”
“Dangerous thing,” he said. “Curiosity.”
I bristled. “I’m allowed to ask a question.”
“Sure,” he said. “And I’m allowed not to answer.”
We stared at each other for a beat, the air between us charged in a way I didn’t quite understand.
I frowned at him, then glanced at the office door. “Are you… okay?”
He flinched, almost imperceptibly. “I’m fine,” he said. He dragged a hand through his hair and looked at the door behind him. When he turned back around, he shook his head. “They just love the sound of their own voices.”
“You don’t seem fine,” I said.
He laughed, sharp and humorless. “Wow. You’ve talked to me for a total of, what, five minutes? And you’ve already got me figured out.”
“That’s not what I—” I stopped myself. “It just sounded intense.”
“Welcome to public education,” he shrugged.
“You know, you could’ve just waited it out. Nodded, said sorry. They love that.”
Another laugh, this one even sharper. “Aren’t you just the perfect little student?” He took a few more steps, nearly closing the distance between us. I tilted my chin up, not willing to back down from him. He narrowed his eyes. “I didn’t ask for your advice, Princess.”
“I’m just trying to help.”
“Didn’t ask for that either,” he said, and started walking past me toward the exit.
“Sometimes it’s easier not to fight everything,” I said, crossing my arms.
He paused. Turned back slowly. Then studied me, eyes dark and curious, like he’d just walked into a room and found someone trying to see the floor through their own eyes. “Yeah,” he said finally. “You seem like the expert on that.”
I tilted my head. “Excuse me?”
“You,” he said. “All… perfect little everything. You follow the rules. You plan your life out like a syllabus.”
“You don’t know my life,” I said, crossing my arms tighter.
“So you keep saying,” he shot back, like it was obvious. “But come on. You’re too… safe. You take it all so seriously. Doesn’t it get tiring?”
“I don’t take it too seriously,” I said, indignantly. “I just care about things. You’d understand if you cared about more than hating everyone.”
He tilted his head, looking almost amused. “One of us needs to take life less seriously, and I’m thinking it’s you.”
I huffed. “And maybe one of us needs to take it more seriously.”
The bathroom door finally flew open and Ainsley stepped out, her hair now swept into a perfect ponytail with a Parkhurst blue ribbon in it and fresh lipstick on her lips. No wonder she was in there for so long—she takes her hair very seriously.
“Sorry, I started with a braid and then I didn’t like it so I—” She stopped talking when her eyes landed on Cole. “Oh.”
For a second, he just stared at me, his chest still rising and falling from our fight. Then his gaze shifted slightly, taking in Ainsley beside me.
“Twins,” he said, more to himself than to us.
Ainsley raised her brows. “Observant.”
“It’s that Northern education.” He lifts a hand and taps his temple. “Keeps me sharp.”
I rolled my eyes. The gym doors burst open down the hall, spilling noise and light into the corridor. A cluster of students poured out, laughing and arguing.
Ainsley took that as her cue. “We should go find seats,” she said, nudging my arm. “Before it gets packed.”
I nodded in agreement, though I didn’t move.
My eyes stayed on Cole, almost of their own volition, waiting for him to step away first. He stared right back and for a moment, I thought neither of us were going to move.
Not until he finally stuck his hands in pockets and stepped back with a small nod.
“See you around, Princess.” And then just like that, he was gone.