Sienna's POV
By the third day, Sienna had slipped into the rhythm of the school.
She didn't speak unless spoken to. Not because she was shy, it was deliberate. There was no need to waste words on things that didn't matter, and so far, most things didn't. People left her alone for the most part, which she appreciated. A few curious stares, but nothing invasive. She gave off a quiet that people didn't quite know what to do with. It worked in her favor.
Today, however, something felt different.
It started in the first class. Just a flicker, barely anything at all. Her senses sharpened without warning, like someone had turned up the contrast on the world. She could hear the scrape of a pen two rows behind her, the softest breath from the boy who sat beside her. The light through the window felt warmer, almost too warm, and the way the tree outside shifted in the breeze made her stomach stir with something close to nostalgia, but not quite. She blinked, grounded herself. Hoping It was probably nothing. But then again, probably not.
By lunch, she was certain. There was a pull somewhere in her chest, like a thread was being gently tugged.
"Is it already happening" she asked herself as she is already walking a different path through the courtyard. Her fingers brushed the edge of a flowering bush, and the petals seemed to lean toward her. Only slightly. Barely enough to notice.
She sat beneath the same tree she had the past two days. It was familiar now, roots that seemed older than the school itself, quiet shade that muted the world around her. She let her hands rest against the grass, closed her eyes, and listened. Something inside her was… humming. Not loud. Not painful. Just… awake. She tried not to panic. There was no reason to. She had always known this day would come. Maybe not this exact one, maybe not this quietly, but the shift had always been a matter of time. She opened her eyes and looked across the courtyard. Students passed without seeing her. But one didn't. The girl from yesterday.
Riley. She didn't know her name, not yet. But they had locked eyes, even if just for a moment. There had been recognition there on both sides. Now, Riley walked with purpose, her bag slung low, her expression unreadable. But her eyes still searched the space ahead. And for just a breath, they met again.
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Riley didn't believe in coincidences.
Patterns, yes. Repetition. Instinct. But not the kind of chance that made you lock eyes with the same girl three days in a row from opposite ends of a crowd. That was something else. She didn't know the girl's name yet. Didn't need to. She remembered how she moved quiet, like water slipping over stone. Calm in a way that didn't look forced. It made Riley's skin itch, not out of fear, but curiosity.
Most people put on a show. That girl didn't even blink. Like she didn't care, or was lost in her own word to care about her.
And today, she'd looked right at Riley. Not past her. Not through her. At her. Riley hadn't looked away. Couldn't, really.
***
She sat in the far corner of her class now, chin resting on her hand, eyes fixed out the window, but not seeing much of the trees or sky. She kept going over the feeling in her chest when their eyes met. She doesn't know what it meant but it wasn't fear, it was as if she was ready to defend herself. It wasn't dangerous. Not exactly. But it was definitely not normal. And Riley had learned a long time ago that not-normal things usually meant one of two outcomes: a problem… or something chasing one.
When the bell rang, she gathered her things slowly, waiting for the rush of students to clear. The hallway was noise and motion and smells she didn't like perfume, sweat, the sharp metallic edge of something she couldn't name.
She walked with her headphones in but no music playing. It gave her the illusion of silence, which helped her listen better. She turned a corner and nearly bumped into the boy she'd seen in the courtyard before. Still didn't know his name either, but his presence lingered in her head more than she liked to admit. He glanced at her just once then kept walking.
But it was building up. The kind of thing that snapped into place later when the right pieces finally aligned. Riley's fingers found the edge of her sleeve, where her thumb had rubbed a small hole through the seam. She pulled it tighter.
It was the first time someone will acknowledge her and still not acknowledging her