They were both in the courtyard when I arrived at seven-forty-five in the morning.
Zane was on the bench, his dark coat buttoned against the morning bite. Ace was standing, a steaming paper cup of coffee in one hand, leaning his shoulder against the stone wall.
They were just... waiting. For me.
I sat down on the wood, the chill seeping through my skirt instantly. Ace pushed off the wall and moved closer, leaning against the stonework nearest to me; close enough to offer a sense of gravity, but giving me enough air to breathe. Zane didn't move, but I could feel his focus shift toward me like a physical weight.
"In my last year at Southvale," I began, my voice sounding thin in the open air, "I reported a teacher."
Neither of them flinched. They didn't even blink.
"His name was Mr. Delaney. Chemistry. He was... charming. Young, sharp, the kind of teacher who made you feel like he was on your side against the 'system.' Students loved him." I stared at my interlaced fingers, the knuckles white. "He wasn't on anyone's side but his own."
"What did he do?" Zane's voice was a low, steady anchor.
"He didn't touch anyone," I said quickly, seeing the dark turn their thoughts were taking. "It wasn't that. It was smaller, subtler, and a hundred times harder to prove because of it. It was favoritism that crossed a line. A girl in my year; my best friend, he started keeping her behind after the final bell. He told her personal things. Heavy things about his marriage, his 'loneliness.' He gave her his private number. Told her to text him whenever she felt 'low' or 'misunderstood.'"
I swallowed hard, the memory of it tasting like copper. "She was seventeen. She thought it was a special connection. She thought it was kindness. She texted him for two months before I found out."
"And you reported it," Ace said. It wasn't a question; it was an affirmation.
"I went to the head teacher. I had the messages, she'd shown me the messages in a moment of panic. The school launched an investigation. Delaney was suspended pending a full review. And then... the world turned upside down."
"How?" Zane asked, his jaw tightening.
"His wife was a powerhouse on the parent board. His family had deep pockets and deeper roots. The 'investigation' was a joke: quicker and quieter than it had any right to be. He was back in the lab within six weeks."
My throat felt like it was closing up, the old familiar rage bubbling under my skin. "And the story that took hold at Southvale? It wasn't about him. It was about me. The word was that I'd had a pathetic crush on him. That I'd fabricated the 'grooming' narrative out of pure, jealous spite because he'd spent his attention on my friend instead of me."
Silence followed, heavy and suffocating.
"That's not what happened," Ace said. He planted the words firmly, like he was staking a claim in the dirt.
"No," I whispered. "It isn't. My friend knows the truth. My mom knows the truth. But that's the version that stained the hallways. That's the version that followed me like a shadow. The only reason I wanted a fresh start here at Crestwood was because I was dying to walk into a room where people didn't already have a lie pinned to my chest."
Zane was staring at the ground, his eyes narrowed in that intense, processing quiet that meant he was deconstructing the entire board.
"So, what Bianca has," I said, the realization settling in like lead, "is almost certainly the Southvale version. The 'Jealous Girl' version. If she puts a 'witness statement' from that mess in front of the scholarship board..." I trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.
"She can't go to the board with school-yard gossip," Ace countered. "She'd need hard documentation. Evidence of a disciplinary record."
"She forged a formal notice last week, Ace. She's not above a little creative writing."
"This is different. She can't forge a verified exit report from another institution." He looked at Zane, his brow furrowed. "Can she?"
"She has someone at Southvale," I reminded him. "A contact. If that person is close enough to the administration to leak a skewed version of the internal memo—"
"Then it becomes a he-said-she-said nightmare with an external source," Zane said quietly. "The board won't want the liability. They'll get 'cautious.' And caution usually means suspension."
"Exactly."
We all sat there, the morning sun finally cresting the school roof, but providing no real warmth.
"My friend," I said, the name finally hovering on my lips. "The one he targeted. She knows the truth. She gave a real statement during the initial investigation, the one that actually happened before the cover-up. That record exists somewhere." I looked at Zane, desperation clawing at me. "If I can get a copy, or if she'd be willing to write a fresh affidavit—"
"Call her," Zane said, standing up. "Today. Do it before Bianca makes a move."
"I don't want to drag her back into that hell, Zane. She's finally doing okay."
"Mila." He looked at me with a gaze so direct it felt like he was reading my pulse. "She's already in it. She was in it the second Bianca decided to use her trauma as a weapon against you. If Bianca is going to distort your friend's life to hurt you, your friend has a right to defend the truth."
He was right. I'd known it the second I woke up, but saying it felt like breaking a promise. I was terrified to call Priya and tell her that the ghost we'd buried at Southvale had dug its way across the city to find me here.
Because Priya was the friend. My shadow, my sister, the person who had nearly been broken by a man who was supposed to protect her.
"Also," Ace said, his voice dropping into a dangerous, flat register. He'd been scrolling through his phone for the last minute. He turned the screen toward me. "Sienna posted this an hour ago."
It was an Instagram story; vague enough to be dejisble. Something about how the most dangerous people are the ones who play the victim to hide their own toxicity.
There was a string of supportive comments. One laughing emoji stood out; a username I didn't recognize, but Ace had circled it in a screenshot.
"She's seeding the field," I whispered.
"Starting the rumor mill before the main event." Ace's face was set, his jaw working. "She's testing the waters. Seeing how fast the fire spreads."
Zane didn't say another word. He just gave me a final, lingering look, one that said don't you dare give up and headed inside.
Ace finished his coffee, his eyes lingering on mine for a second longer than necessary. "You okay?"
"Not even a little bit."
"Yeah." He crumpled the cup in his hand. "Neither am I."
He followed Zane into the building.
I sat in the cold courtyard alone, my hands shaking as I dialed the number I knew by heart. Priya picked up on the third ring.
"Hey!" she said, her voice warm and bright, blissfully unaware of the wreck I was about to drop in her lap.
"I was literally just thinking about you. Tell me everything, how's the new school? Are you the queen of Crestwood yet?"
I took a breath, closing my eyes against the morning glare.
"Priya," I said, my voice cracking. "I need to tell you something. And I need you to listen very carefully."