Stella
I should be paying attention.
There’s a student council mixer in the auditorium, full of fake smiles and lukewarm sparkling juice, but I can’t focus. My fingers itch for my sketchpad, which I stupidly left in my locker. And I can still feel Viktor’s warning echoing in my head.
You’re being watched.
The threat. The photo. The message.
I can’t unsee it.
Vivian's voice cuts into my haze. “You good?”
I blink. She’s at my side, holding two plastic cups like we’re celebrating something.
“Totally,” I lie.
Vivian’s eyes narrow. “You only say that when you’re very much not.”
I grab the juice from her hand and take a sip to shut her up. It tastes like fizzy sugar water.
“I’m fine,” I repeat. “Just tired.”
She watches me for another second, but drops it. “You see Viktor brooding o
