When the Sun Finds You

Chapter Two--- Whispers & Warnings

By lunchtime, I've survived three classes, two akward run-ins with people who used to

talk to me, and one internal debate over whether I can drop out and become a

hermit in the forest.

Spoiler: I cannot.

The cafeteria is chaos--loud, crowded, full of overlapping voices and the small of pizza

that looks like regret. I hover near the entrance, clutching my tray like a shield. Groups

form naturally, like magnets snapping together.

I used to have a group too.

Now I have... a table by the window that no one else picks because the vent above it

ratles like it's possessed.

"Over here!" Eli calls, waving from across the room.

I blink. He saved me a seat. Next to him. At an actual table. With actual people.

Well--two people. His twin cousins, Alina and Jay, who are too absorbed in their phones

to notice me.

I exhale. This is fine. Totally fine.

"You survived the morning," Eli says proudly as I sit. "Told you you'd be okay."

"Define okay," I mutter.

He grins. "Alive. Upright. Not crying in the bathroom."

I roll my eyes. "Once. That happened once."

He raises a brow. "It was two times."

I shove his arm. He laughs.

It's the first moment all day I feel vaguely normal.

Until I hear the whisper.

"Is that her?"

It comes from a table behind us. A girl I vaguely recognize is staring openly. Her friend

leans in.

"Yeah. That's Mia Harper."

Heat floods my ears. "Ignore then," he mutters.

I try. I do. But the whisper spreads like smoke:

"Did you hear what she did?"

"No wonder Ava doesn't talk to her anymore."

"Wasn't there a fight?"

"Someone said she freaked out in class last year---"

My throat tightens.

I know rumors work like this---messy, fast, impossible to kill. But hearing them still feels

like someone is peeling off old scabs.

I duck my head, pretending to pick at my food.

Eli leans close. "They don't know what really happened."

"Neither do I," I whisper.

The truth is complicated. Messy. Full of pieces I still don't understand. I don't blame

anyone for filling in the blanks---it's what people do.

But it doesn't make it hurt less.

After a few minutes, the whispers fade. Eli shifts the conversation to something easier---

movies, senior events, how he plans to bribe our math teacher with cinnamon rolls--but

it's hard to focus.

Something feels off today.

Electric in a way that makes my skin buzz.

Like the world is getting ready for something I'm not prepared for.

When lunch ends, we walk to History together. The hallways are louder now, and I swear

half the school keeps glancing at me. Or maybe I'm just paranoid.

Probably that.

We reach Mr. Ruiz's room, and Eli holds the door open. "After school, want to come over?

My mom's making brownies."

I open my mouth to agree--brownies are my religion--but a voice behind me interrupts.

A voice I don't recognize.

"Hey...you're Mia, right?"

I turn.

A girl with short curls and galaxy-patterned glasses stand there, clutching a notebook to

her chest. She looks nervous but determined.

"Yeah," I say slowly. "That's me."

"I----I'm Sara. We're in Art together." She pushes her glasses up. "I just wanted to say... you

don't have to sit in the back alone all the time."

I blink. "Oh. Um. Thanks?"

She smiles shyly. "I liked your pencil sketch. The one you were working on today. You're

really good."

My face warms. No one's complimented my art in months. "Thanks," I repeat, softer this

time.

"If you ever want to sit with me in class... you can."

Before I can respond, the bell rings and Sara scurries into the room.

Eli wiggles his eyebrows. "New friend?"

I nudge him. "Stop."

But I'm smiling. Just a little.

Maybe this year won't be entirely terrible.

Maybe.

But then---just as I step into the classroom---a weird shiver runs down my spine.

Not cold.

Not fear.

Just... knowing.

Knowing something is coming.

Something big.

Something that will change everything.

I lift my head, scanning the hallway behind me.

Nothing unusual.

But my heart beats fast anyway, whispering a warning I don't understand:

The past doesn't stay gone forever.

I shake off the feeling and step fully into the classroom, letting the door swing shut behind

me. Maybe I'm just tired. Or anxious. Or both. Probably both.

Mr. Ruiz is already writing something complicated on the board---dates, arrows, little stars

around whatever he thinks is important. He's one of those teachers who's passionate

about history in a way that makes you feel guilty for not knowing who fought in what war.

I head toward my seat in the middle row. Not too noticeable, not too hidden. Safe-ish.

Eli slides into the desk behind me, dropping his backpack with a dramatic thud. "Do you

ever think Mr. Ruiz sleeps," he whispers, "or does he just recharge by absorbing the youth

of his students?"

I bite back a smile. "Please don't say that out loud. He'll put you on a watchlist."

"He probably already has," Eli sighs.

Class starts, and Mr. Ruiz launches into a lecture about early civilizations and how history

repeats itself unless we learn from it. People groan quietly, some take notes, one kid is

already asleep.

But the whole time, my mind drifts---not to ancient Mesopotamia, but to that feeling I had

in the hallway.

A warning.

Like the universe tugging at my sleeve.

Halfway through class, a slip of paper lands on my desk. Eli's handwriting in messy:

You okay?

I nod.

Another note:

You don't LOOK okay.

I scribble back:

I'm fine. Just... weird day.

He reads it, hesitates, then writes:

If anything's going on, you can tell me.

I swallow.

I want to.

But I don't even know what's going on.

So I write:

I don't know how to explain it.

Before he can answer, Mr. Ruiz clears his throat loudly. "Mr. Torres," he says, "unless that

note contains groundbreaking historical insigh, I suggest you save it for after class."

Eli freezes.

I freeze harder.

Someone snickers.

Eli sighs and stuffs the paper into his pocket. "Yes, sir."

By the time the bell rings, I feel wrung out. I gather my things and hurry into the hallway

before anyon can stop me. Eli catches up quickly.

"Don't worry about the note thing," he says. "He probably likes you more than me

anyway."

"I doubt that."

We walk together until we reach the stairwell where our paths split. He's going to

Chemistry; I'm headed to Pre-Calc.

"Hey," he says, hesitating at the top step. "If something's bothering you... you really can

tell me. You know that, right?"

I nod. "Yeah. I know."

"And you'll actually tell me?"

"Maybe," I say.

He groans. "That's not comforting, Mia!"

But he's smiling as he heads down the stairs.

I linger a moment, the crowd swirling around me, the warning still twiating in my chest.

Something's coming.

I can feel it.

I just don't know what.

By the time I reach Pre-Calc, the feeling has only grown stronger---like a strom gathering

just out of sight. My skin buzzes. My stomach knots. Every classroom door I pass feels like

it might open to something... someone.

Someone I'm not ready to see.

I slide into a desk near the window. The sky outside is bright and harmless, but I can't

shake the sense that it's lying to me.

Class drags on. Notes blur. Numbers twist. My pencil taps out a restless rhythm I can't

stop.

And then---

A voice echoes faintly from the hallway outside.

A voice I haven't heard in two years.

A voice I've tried to forget and failed.

My heart stops.

No.

It can't be.

I sity perfectly still, breath shallow, pulse roaring in my ears.

Another voice responds---muffled, indistinguishable---but I know what I heard.

I know it.

My hands grip the edge of my desk.

The feeling, the warning, the unease----

All of it suddenly makes sense.

The past wasn't just whispering.

It was already walking back toward me.