“This isn’t working,” huffed Lhu.
“I know! I just don’t know what else to do.”
A week had passed since the unfortunate fate of Orya Lukova, a candlelight vigil had been hosted two days after she had committed suicide, every single student attended, and the few who really knew her gave words of appreciation to her as a sign of respect. Even her father had attended, and when no one saw him, he had started at the tower his daughter had jumped from and shed a tear of remorse, knowing it was too late to feel that way.
Leevanna huffed for the hundredth time, and her eyes for a moment divagated to a certain boy who was near the group of friends. He was sitting against a tall rock with a book between hands. But she knew, he wasn’t reading anything, but the letter Orya had left him. They hadn’t
