Lines Crossed
1823 Words
By the third morning, Westbridge no longer felt like a school.
It still had the same brick walls, the same polished floors, the same banners hanging in the gymnasium, but everything familiar had been stripped of its purpose. The trophy cases meant nothing when everyone was wondering whether there would be enough food by the end of the week. The classrooms had become sleeping areas. The library had become a place for people who wanted somewhere quiet to panic. Even the cafeteria, usually loud enough to make me want to eat lunch outside, had fallen into an uneasy rhythm of whispers, arguments and the occasional burst of crying that nobody acknowledged.
The rain had stopped sometime during the night.
That should have been comforting.
Instead, everyone knew enough now to understand that stopping didn’t mean safe.
I had barely slept. Most of the night had been spent going over the rainfall reports I’d managed to collect, writing down the times and durations in the notebook Mr. Collins had given me. There were patterns buried in the numbers. I couldn’t prove what they meant yet, but I was beginning to suspect the rain wasn’t behaving randomly.
That thought had followed me into the cafeteria.
I was sitting at one of the long tables with my notebook open beside a half-eaten granola bar when Adrian dropped into the seat opposite me.
“You’ve been staring at that thing for ten minutes.”
“I’ve been thinking.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
A laugh escaped me before I could stop it. “Why?”
“Because every time you start thinking that hard, you forget basic human needs.”
“I ate.”
He glanced at the granola bar.
“Half.”
“That counts.”
“It really doesn’t.”
“You’re not my mother.”
“No, but apparently somebody has to keep you alive.”
There was something about the way he said it that made my chest feel strangely warm. Maybe it was because nobody had said anything like that to me before without making it sound like an obligation.
I closed the notebook. “What about you? Did you sleep?”
“Not really.” He leaned back against the bench. “I kept waking up every time somebody moved.”
The teasing had disappeared from his voice. For a second, he looked younger than he usually did. Less like the confident boy everyone at school seemed to know and more like someone who had no idea what was going to happen next.
“My dad still hasn’t called,” he added quietly.
I remembered what he’d told me yesterday.
There were probably a hundred things Adrian could have said about his family if he’d wanted to make people feel sorry for him. His father had money. Connections. Resources that most people could only dream about. None of that changed the fact that his father was somewhere outside Westbridge, and the rain didn’t care how much money anyone had.
“I’m sorry.”
“Yeah.” He rubbed his thumb along the edge of the table. “Me too.”
I didn’t know what else to say, so I reached across the table and rested my hand over his.
His fingers tightened around mine almost immediately.
Neither of us said anything.
It wasn’t dramatic. There was no sudden realization that this meant something enormous. It was just his hand around mine, warm and steady, while the cafeteria carried on around us.
And somehow that made it mean more.
“Are you always this quiet?” he asked after a while.
“Only when I’m trying not to make things worse.”
“You make things worse?”
“I’ve been told I talk too much.”
“By who?”
I shrugged. “People.”
“People are stupid.”
I smiled despite myself. “That’s a very scientific conclusion.”
“I’ve been spending time with you. I’m becoming smarter.”
“That is definitely not how intelligence works.”
“I’m pretty sure it is.”
Before I could answer, a familiar voice drifted across the table.
“Adrian.”
The warmth in his hand disappeared as Madison stopped beside us.
She looked completely put together despite everything. Her hair was still neat, her clothes were clean, and there was something almost irritating about how composed she appeared in a school where most people looked like they’d spent the last two days sleeping on gym mats.
Chloe stood behind her, holding two bottles of water. Serena was beside them.
Madison’s attention moved from Adrian to me and then to the notebook.
“You’re sitting here now?”
Adrian’s expression changed slightly. “Apparently.”
She ignored him.
“Mr. Collins is looking for you, Nora.”
“I know.”
“He said something about the calculations.”
“I’ll go when I’m finished.”
Madison’s gaze lingered on the notebook. “Right. Because obviously that’s more important than anything else.”
I knew that tone. I’d heard versions of it for years.
Before I could respond, Adrian said, “She’s helping.”
Madison’s eyes returned to him.
“I wasn’t talking to you.”
“You usually aren’t.”
Something flickered across her face.
Not anger exactly.
Something sharper.
“You’ve changed.”
Adrian gave a quiet breath of amusement. “Have I?”
“I think so.”
There was history in the way she said it. Not the kind I could explain, but enough to make me notice the silence that followed.
Adrian seemed to notice it too.
“People change, Madison.”
“Some people.”
She walked away before he could answer.
Chloe hesitated for half a second, looking almost apologetic, then followed her.
I watched them disappear into the crowd.
“Was that normal?” I asked.
“No.”
The answer came too quickly.
I raised my eyebrows.
Adrian sighed. “Okay. Maybe.”
“You two seem to know each other pretty well.”
“We’ve been at the same school for a long time.”
There was something he wasn’t saying.
I could feel it.
For once, I decided not to ask.
Mr. Collins found me later in the science room.
The room had become our unofficial workspace because it contained tables, cabinets and enough supplies to make calculations easier. A few students had started helping with measurements and reports, though most of them still looked at me like I was doing something impossible whenever I explained the patterns I’d found.
I was halfway through copying another set of figures when someone leaned against the table beside me.
“You’re going to ruin your eyesight.”
“I’m fine.”
“You said that yesterday.”
“Because I was fine yesterday.”
“And today?”
I glanced at Adrian.
“Still fine.”
He had a basketball tucked beneath one arm, which made absolutely no sense considering there was nowhere safe to play.
“What are you doing with that?”
“Found it.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. It made me feel normal.”
That answer was so unexpectedly honest that I couldn’t help smiling.
He smiled back.
Then somebody called his name from across the room, and he turned to answer.
I stepped backward at exactly the wrong moment.
My heel caught against a box someone had left behind me.
Everything happened too quickly for embarrassment to arrive first.
My balance disappeared.
Adrian’s hand caught my waist before I hit the floor.
The basketball rolled away.
For one second, neither of us moved.
His other hand had closed around my arm, keeping me upright, and I could feel the warmth of his palm through my shirt. He was close enough that I could see the tiny crease between his eyebrows, the one that appeared whenever he was concentrating.
My heart was beating far too hard for someone who had simply tripped over a box.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
My voice came out quieter than I intended.
He didn’t move immediately.
Neither did I.
I became suddenly aware of everything—the warmth between us, the fact that his hand was still at my waist, the way I could hear his breathing over the distant conversations in the room.
“You nearly fell,” he murmured.
“I noticed.”
A small smile appeared on his face.
“You’re laughing.”
“Because you’re laughing.”
“I am not.”
“You are.”
“Maybe a little.”
His hand finally left my waist.
The absence of it was ridiculous.
I hated that I noticed.
I bent down to pick up the notebook I’d dropped, mostly because I needed something to do with myself.
“You’re making me nervous,” I said before I could stop myself.
Silence.
The second the words left my mouth, I wanted to disappear.
Adrian’s expression changed—not dramatically, just enough to tell me he’d heard exactly what I meant.
“Am I?”
I suddenly became very interested in straightening the papers in my notebook.
“You’re enjoying this.”
“A little.”
“You’re awful.”
“Maybe.”
His voice softened.
“But you haven’t moved away.”
I looked up then.
For once, neither of us had anything clever to say.
A voice from across the room broke the moment.
“Nora!”
Mr. Collins was calling me.
I stepped back, grateful for the interruption and disappointed by it at the same time.
Adrian picked up the basketball.
“Go save the world, Bennett.”
“I’ll try.”
“And, Nora?”
“Yeah?”
“Watch where you’re walking.”
I narrowed my eyes. “That was one time.”
“I’m just saying. I might not always be there to catch you.”
The words should have sounded casual.
They didn’t.
Before I could think of an answer, he walked away.
Across the room, Madison had seen everything.
She was standing beside Chloe with her arms folded, her expression unreadable.
But when Adrian passed her, she said something quietly.
He stopped.
Whatever she said made his face harden.
I couldn’t hear the conversation from where I stood, but I didn’t need to.
Madison wasn’t looking at him like a friend.
She was looking at him like someone who believed she still had a claim on him.
I turned back toward Mr. Collins before I could become too interested in something that wasn’t my business.
The calculations waited on the table.
Numbers were easier.
Numbers didn’t make my heart race.
Numbers didn’t look at me the way Adrian Cole had just looked at me.
And numbers, at least, could be trusted to follow rules.
I was beginning to realize the rain might not be the only thing at Westbridge that didn’t.
- Writer
- chap_listContents
- likeADD