All the Stars on Fire

By Beck Medina

Natalia Morales has a secret...she's kind of a superhero. Natalia dreams of joining the Action Team, the newly banded and young heroes that protect Angel City, and just may stop at anything to make it happen.

Alyse Morales knows her sister'

• Language: English
• Publisher: 1537 Press
• Release date: Apr 2, 2021
• ISBN: 9781087940939

Beck Medina

Beck Medina is a two-time young adult author and content creator residing in Los Angeles, California. Beck published "A Fantastic Mess of Everything" in 2016, followed by "All The Stars On Fire" in 2019. Outside of being an author, Beck is also the host of the My Best Life Podcast, a personal development podcast that encourages people to create their lives on their own terms. She loves connecting with audiences through storytelling and uses this vehicle to inspire, motivate and empower her fan base to think & live limitless.

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Beck Medina

All the Stars on Fire

First published by 1537 Press 2019

Copyright © 2019 by Beck Medina

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

Beck Medina asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

Beck Medina has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party Internet Websites referred to in this publication and does not guarantee that any content on such Websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.

Designations used by companies to distinguish their products are often claimed as trademarks. All brand names and product names used in this book and on its cover are trade names, service marks, trademarks and registered trademarks of their respective owners. The publishers and the book are not associated with any product or vendor mentioned in this book. None of the companies referenced within the book have endorsed the book.

First edition

Editing by Constance Renfrow

Editing by Katie McCoach

Cover art by Katie Oldja

Cover art by Spencer Kimble

Cover art by Paulina Razeszutek

Typesetting by Paulina Razeszutek

Proofreading by Yasmin Sara

Proofreading by Kassidi Sikes

This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy

Find out more at reedsy.com

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For anyone with a desire to achieve big things. Your greatness is recognized.

Doubt thou the stars are fire; doubt that the sun doth move; doubt truth to be a liar; but never doubt I love.

William Shakespeare

Contents

Acknowledgement

1. Natalia

2. Seven

3. Natalia

4. Alyse

5. Natalia

6. Alyse

7. Seven

8. Alyse

9. Natalia

10. Natalia

11. Natalia

12. Natalia

13. Alyse

14. Natalia

15. Seven

16. Alyse

17. Natalia

18. Alyse

19. Natalia

20. Alyse

21. Natalia

22. Alyse

23. Natalia

24. Alyse

25. Natalia

26. Alyse

27. Natalia

28. Alyse

29. Natalia

30. Alyse

31. Natalia

32. Alyse

33. Natalia

34. Alyse

35. Natalia

36. Alyse

37. Natalia

38. Alyse

39. Natalia

40. Alyse

41. Natalia

42. Alyse

43. Alyse

44. Natalia

45. Alyse

46. Natalia

47. Alyse

48. Natalia

49. Alyse

50. Seven

51. Natalia

52. Alyse

53. Natalia

54. Alyse

55. Natalia

56. Alyse

57. Natalia

58. Alyse

59. Natalia

60. Alyse

61. Natalia

62. Alyse

63. Natalia

64. Alyse

65. Natalia

66. Alyse

67. Natalia

68. Alyse

69. Natalia

70. Alyse

71. Natalia

72. Alyse

About the Author

Also by Beck Medina

Acknowledgement

I’ve never looked at an acknowledgements section of any book that I’ve ever read in my life. I’m aware that they exist. I get the general idea that the author is publicly thanking everyone who contributed to the creation of their book…Is it bad that I’m just not interested in reading a thank you letter to managers and agents and significant others? This part kind of feels like an obligation, right?

And truthfully, I think I struggle with the discomfort of telling people how much they mean to me. What if it comes across as weird? Or I say something that rubs someone the wrong way? What if I leave someone out who rightfully deserves to make the cut? As I considered what I would write, and to whom, I almost decided to cut this section out entirely. The whole experience would simply be way too icky.

I think the funny thing about people (at least in people like me) is that we are very good about making everything about ourselves. We suck at expressing our appreciation for others who have profoundly impacted our lives because we’re scared of the rejection. We’re afraid to wear our hearts on our sleeves and let the people who matter know what they mean to us, even though at our very core its what we desire the most. That human connection.

The thing is…All the Stars on Fire, which started out as an outline for a fun, female-driven superhero story one evening back 2014, is more than just a book to me. This story has transformed into the book you just read over the course of five freaking years. And over the course of those five years, I experienced a tremendous amount of growth that was absolutely more forced than it was voluntary.

2014 was the year that my family life was shaken up in the worst way possible. The most important person in the world to me became so distant that they honestly felt dead to me. You just aren’t aware of how truly dependent you are of someone until you’re forced to have to depend completely on yourself to survive. It was a rough time, but a necessary one.

This was when the storylines for A Fantastic Mess of Everything were formed. The bits and pieces of my life that I had experienced between 2014-2016 were making their way into my first novel, so much of my own life in fact that it felt like I was giving away a piece of my soul when the book was finished. I was emotionally drained after that book.

All the Stars on Fire was an entirely different writing experience for me. I was no longer relaying my direct, physical experiences into this novel, but from someplace deeper than the surface level. I didn’t realize how much of myself I put into Natalia’s self-doubt and fear of failing at her dreams, as well as Alyse’s desire to protect her family at all costs. I didn’t realize how much I longed for someone to believe in me the way that Cam believes in Natalia. Someone who encouraged my greatness, challenged my flaws, but was willing to step back in order to allow me to figure out my greatness for myself. Or how much I adore characters with grit, charm, and want nothing more than to see each other happy.

While I was writing Stars on Fire, I hit a roadblock. Constance, my first editor, told me I wasn’t writing the story that I wanted to write. She was right, and it was the best note I have ever received from someone about my writing. I struggled really hard to write my story, the one you just read. At some point I actually gave up and started writing something else.

You know what happened? Halfway through writing this other manuscript…I lost the document. Yes, you read right. The entire manuscript was wiped clean from Google Drive.

That’s when ideas for a new version of All the Stars on Fire began circulating in my head, and even though I didn’t know it then, the Universe was telling me that I was focused on the wrong book. I needed to get back to Stars on Fire. I had to return to this magical, little Universe and finish what I started.

And I’m so glad that I did. The version of the book that you read took a year and a half to write. I stopped for weeks, sometimes months, but I would always pick back up where I left off. I knew that this was the story I needed to write, not just for the audience…but for myself, too.

So, for those of you who were there for all of it or only some of it, you know who you are. You know how you’ve helped me. Thank you for encouraging me to keep writing even when I wanted so badly to stop. Thank you for telling me the page count was exactly what it needed to be when I was worried it was too much. For your patience when I was failing to hold up my end of the deal. For saying that my character choices would work even though you hadn’t even read the book. For offering your time when I needed to vent or share my excitement for the book’s progress. For extending a helping hand when you saw me struggling. For just liking my story or post about the book online. For telling me that you’re proud of me.

You are the reason this book was made. You saw potential in me when I needed it the most. Never doubt that the kindness of others cannot create miracles. I believe more than ever that we live in a loving, caring, and supportive world that is always guiding us to the right people and situations to bring out the very best in ourselves.

These characters weren’t the only ones who developed and grew from this experience over the course of five years. So did I. Boy, did I ever.

1

Natalia

Dear Action Team,

I’m sure you get a lot of fan mail, and who knows if you read each and every one of your letters, but please consider reading mine. I’m not writing to gush about how cute you are (and I’m not saying any of you are unattractive!) or that I’m dying to meet you… even though meeting you would be an honor.

My name is Natalia Morales and I want to join your team.

Four years ago, I was admitted into a government-funded program that might sound familiar to you. It’s called Project 451. If you don’t know anything about Project 451, here’s the gist: Two years ago, the government announced a new, experimental program looking for the best and brightest teenagers across the country; ages thirteen and up. Only two hundred were to be accepted. All the kids in my grade applied. It was all anybody at school talked about in the eighth grade. You’d get to test out of school early, and after three years of training you’d get to call yourself a Peace Officer if you passed the final exam. Peace Officers were the future of police enforcement. They would end police brutality and make the country far less violent.

There was a lot of mystery behind Project 451. All the government revealed was that everyone who’s eligible should want to do it. It was an honor to get accepted. All of us filled out an application. My twin brother Max, my best friend Boston, and me. My little sister Alyse wanted to as well, but she was too young to apply. That whole summer, the four of us gushed about how amazing it would be to get accepted. It would be like Ender’s Game, minus the war part. But, out of everyone in Angel City, only Max and I were accepted.

From the start, Max’s abilities were strong. He could make anyone feel exactly what he wanted with the ability to alter the emotions of others. That’s why he became a first-class officer, in charge of his own wing of students. Me, on the other hand… I’m different.

Max wears his first-class officer status as a badge of honor. Becoming a Peace Officer should be an honor for me, too, but I’m finding it to be more of a hindrance. Everyone my age wanted this, and I should have wanted it the most. One of the interviewers, Amy—she was the assistant to the head researcher who founded the project—told me that I had the highest scores on all of our emotional intelligence tests. I was a natural, she said. I likely wouldn’t need a high dosage of the 451 serum like everyone else. It was injected to increase emotional intelligence and the subject’s ability to alter emotions.

Amy’s enthusiasm got me excited, but when I entered training, I quickly realized how wrong all of this was. We weren’t being taught how to change the world through peace. We were learning how to tame society by beating them to a bloody pulp.

That’s why I became Empathy. When the project shut down two years ago due to low funding, I wanted to use the abilities I developed for good. I know that it’s possible to be better than this, and I really think I have what it takes. Please consider me.

Natalia

2

Seven

When she asked for my name, I told her it was Seven.

I don’t know who she is exactly. I never know. The business operates better that way. In case you’re confused about what I do, I perform tasks for criminals. If you need someone thin enough to wiggle their way through small spaces, but tall enough to be intimidating, I’m your guy. Plus, I’ve got the innocent teenager thing going for me. One could argue that I’m a real catch.

So, when this mysterious woman calls, she tells me my job is to find the key to free a prisoner from their cell, and that two guys named Jacks and Clark are going to assist me. Then she hangs up. Moments later, I get an email with a map of the entire building. A line is drawn from the entrance all the way down to a room labelled Keys. Another line from the key room goes all the way to the underground wing, with a circle around a room that must be the prisoner’s cell.

The United States Center for the Experimental Sciences is a pretty big place. How the hell am I supposed to do this without getting caught? I guess that’s why they called me; the odds of getting caught are stinking high.

I’m dressed in a white lab coat and glasses when I arrive at the building. My stubble has been growing impressively these days. My sister has been commenting lately that I could pass as a college sophomore. I gloss over the final bit of instructions at the bottom of the email. If somebody in the lab catches me, I’m supposed to say that I’m the night watch assistant. Whatever that means.

My cousin Penny is with me because she knows the labs well. She was a member of the Academy before the government shut down Project 451. Apparently, she knows Jacks and Clark from her Academy days too. Small world.

Jacks and Clark said they’d meet us by the labs at midnight. It’s twelve-fifteen and I’m already shivering from the cold. I should have known they’d be late. Penny said they were untrustworthy dudes. That’s why I brought her. She isn’t in the criminal ring like me, but she’s resourceful. And my best friend.

It’s twelve-twenty when Jacks and Clark come strolling up the steps that lead to the double doors of the laboratory.

What are you doing in the dark? Jacks says with a laugh, like we’re old friends. But then I realize he’s talking to Penny.

Penny slams her fist into his shoulder. Jacks howls, rubbing the injury. Damn, girl, you’ve gotten strong.

Clark throws his head back and laughs like a hyena. Penny was right about them. These two make my stomach queasy.

Will you two be quiet? Penny says.

I crank my neck over Jacks’ shoulder to make sure we’re alone. I saw the security guy walk by like ten minutes ago.

Oh, come on, Jacks says. The guy’s like eighty. We can outrun him.

With an unshakable confidence that we won’t get caught, Jacks opens the double doors. Idiot me, figuring they must be locked since it’s such a secure place. Guess I was wrong.

And… we’re in. Jacks sings. He gives me and Penny a wink.

Penny looks away as if to pretend she didn’t see it. There must be history there. Jacks is a good-looking guy, don’t get me wrong, but he screams trouble.

I wonder why Penny was so willing to help me tonight. When I casually mentioned the job to her, she volunteered herself to be my second pair of eyes in case anything goes wrong. She isn’t one to do this. Likely because all of this indirectly relates to Project 451.

Jacks jabs me playfully in the ribs as we sneak down the darkened hallways. You nervous, kid?

Well, he’s never woken a spirit before, Clark says.

I stop in my tracks. Wait, what?

No one said anything about waking a spirit for Christ’s sake.

Jacks and Clark default to hyena mode. Their laughter echoes throughout the hall, and I shoot my head in every direction to make sure no one’s coming.

Don’t listen to them, Penny says, patting my back. Everything’s going to be fine.

Did Penny know about this? How could she?

Listen to the woman, kid, Jacks says. All I want to do right now is punch him in the face.

I still don’t believe it’s true, Clark says, only the glow of the moonlight shining in from the open windows to guide us.

It’s true, believe me, Jacks says, pulling out his phone and turning on the flashlight. Apparently Jimenez and some other scientists captured the spirit when it was released twenty years ago and put it in an isolated prison cell downstairs.

And how did that turn out? I ask, deadpan. Because how on earth could locking a spirit in a prison cell ever be enough?

After some research, it hasn’t been let loose again since.

You could never do your homework, Jacks, Penny says, and I think even she’s taken aback by how flirtatious she sounds. She clears her throat and crosses her arms over her chest.

How’s Max doing, by the way? Jacks asks, and that big, pleased smile on his face somehow tells me that he knows Max’s name is off limits to him.

I wouldn’t know, Penny says, and takes a few fast steps ahead of everyone so she’s now leading the way.

Jacks ignores her obvious attempt to be alone and put an end to the subject. He catches up to her and says, So you stayed broken up after all, huh? I really thought the two of you would be endgame.

Penny normalizes her stride and gives me and Clarks a chance to join her. We’re sixteen, Jacks. Nothing for us is endgame.

That’s dark, Penny. Jacks nods like it’ll help him digest what she just said. I like it.

Here’s the key room, I say, approaching a door that looks like a janitor’s closet. When I open it, I see why, because it is a janitor’s closet. I was really hoping there would be something a lot cooler behind this door. These jobs are never as exciting as you think they’re going to be. I live for the day one is actually interesting for a chance.

Jeez, it smells. Clark says.

Jacks and Clark throw their hands over their noses to cover the smell of filthy bathrooms coming from all the equipment tossed into a mop bucket. Everything is wet like it’s been used recently.

I pinch my nose and grab a key ring with at least fifty keys attached to it. How am I supposed to find the right one? I exhale and glance up at Jacks.

We’ll just have to try all of them, Jacks says, and gestures for us to follow him downstairs.

The map labels the downstairs floor as the underground wing, but this is just a lit-up hallway with a row of doors lined up on either side.

Every failed project has its own door, Jacks says. When I interned here last fall, I took it upon myself to check out each room. He points to a door on our left. Project 458: old rat skeletons rotting in their cages. You can barely even open the Project 450 door, because of all the busted-up robot armor tossed around the room. Underwhelmingly, Project 451 is just a room full of serums. But one door has always been off limits.

We stop at the end of the hallway, where a door covered in yellow caution tape awaits us. I hope nobody notices my hands shaking uncontrollably. I slide them into my coat pockets for good measure.

"Jesus, it looks like something fucked up lives inside it," Clark says.

Okay, you proved your point. The spirit exists, Penny says, tugging on Jacks’ jacket sleeve. Now let’s go.

Jacks shoos Penny’s hand away and inches closer to the door. I know your little boyfriend is against all of this, but it’s the only way this lab is going to get shut down once and for all. The government’s been getting away with testing their lousy experiments on kids like us for way too long. There’s something deeper than anger in Jacks’ voice. It’s vengeance. Nothing is off limits to them, not even children.

We were thirteen, Jacks.

And now look at us. Fucking inhuman for the rest of our lives. Give me the keys, kid.

I keep them in my pocket, cupped in my hand. Maybe Penny’s right about this being a bad idea. We’re talking about a ghost with powers so dangerous it’s gotta be imprisoned behind a locked door with caution tape for crying out loud.

Don’t do it, Jacks. Penny warns.

Is this why you came here, Penny? To convince me not to do it?

I’m just trying to help you make the right choice.

You’re too late. You and Max. You’re exactly the same, even when you’re not together. Jacks holds his hand out for me to give him the keys.

I don’t know why, but I suddenly feel compelled to give the keys to Jacks. He must have used his abilities on me. The emotion altering thing. Not a bad ability to possess, considering he got his way.

Jacks takes the first key and gives it a try. It’s a no go. The scientists who captured the spirit twenty years ago still work here. He tries another key, then another. If things get out of hand, they’ll be here to pick up the pieces. But hopefully not before it destroys the place.

Hey, what are you guys doing down here? A woman’s voice echoes down the hall, along with the sound of high heels she’s walking in.

We all turn our attention to the woman in a lab coat at the end of the hallway.

It’s Amy, Penny whispers to me. I remember her talking about an Amy before. She’s the assistant scientist here at the labs. Doctor Babe, the guys like to call her. She’s young, in amazing shape, and by the looks of it, isn’t afraid to show some leg. They’re good legs, too. Penny wasn’t lying.

Um, we got lost? Clark says. He and Jacks share a laugh under their breaths.

I shake my head and stare down at the dirty concrete floor. These guys are going to be the death of me. Or at most, my arrest.

You don’t have access to that room, especially this late at night, Amy says, inching a little closer to us, but still managing to keep her distance. She must be nervous to be authoritative toward Jacks and Clark. Or anyone for that matter. What a nimble lady. It’s painful to watch, honestly. You need to leave immediately.

Sure thing, Doc, Jacks says, his hands clasped behind his back.

That’s when I notice that he’s turning the key to unlock the door. My heart beats harder. So hard my ears start to throb. My brain is telling me to get the hell out of here, but my body is frozen solid.

Good, Amy says, taking one more step closer to us. She adjusts her thick-rimmed glasses. So, do it, she says, with a little more assurance in her voice, like she’s pleased that these four roughhousing kids are finally listening to her. It’s giving her a little bit of a confidence boost.

Jacks and Clark start down the hall. I’m already a few steps ahead of them, yanking Penny by the hand and taking as long of steps as I can to get the heck out of here.

As we pass by Amy, just as I start to believe that we’re in the clear—that there really was nothing behind that door after all—the door swings wide open all on its own. All five of us turn toward the door. Jesus, it looks like it leads straight to hell. It’s engulfed entirely by darkness.

Who opened that door? Amy asks, and I know she’s panicking. We all are. That door is supposed to stay locked at all times.

Amy backs away to the exit, the clanging of her heels rings in my ears with every step she takes.

But there’s nowhere for us to go. The only door to leave the lab slams shut. Amy tries to open it, but it’s locked.

It’s a cold night, but we can’t blame any of this on the wind. This is far from normal.

Shit, Jacks whispers.

What do we do, man? Clark asks, his face cowering.

Chills run up and down my spine, and I suddenly get the feeling that the five of us aren’t alone. I think everyone else feels it too, because we all turn back toward the door at the end of the hall. Back to hell.

A figure steps out, but it isn’t what I’m expecting. You see, when I think of an evil spirit, I think of a frail little girl in an old hospital gown with stringy black hair covering her face. But this…

Fuck, man, Jacks cries as he shoves his body into the front door, still clinging onto the hope that we’re going to get out of here.

I gave up that hope a long time ago.

It’s the spirit, Clark exhales.

The black orb makes its way toward us, but it goes right up to Penny like it’s had its sights on her all along.

Please, Penny begs. Tears stream down her face as her mouth quivers.

Not Penny. Please, not Penny.

3

Natalia

Aunt Rosa thinks I’m at the library studying for the SAT’s. I made up this whole story about how Prima, my younger cousin, is too much of a distraction to get any studying done at the house. While that may be true, I’m lying. One hundred percent.

Here’s how it goes: I walk into Freddy’s and head straight for the counter. There’s something about counter customers that screams loner. A friend or two from school might come over to me briefly to say hi, but for the most part I’m left to myself. I’ll pull out my SAT workbook and pretend to be focused. Then I put on my earphones and listen to the police scanner app I have downloaded on my phone.

And when a big report hits? I’m in the restroom, changed into my suit, and I’m out the back door that leads to the dumpsters before anyone’s even noticed that I’m gone.

Nobody suspects that I’m Empathy, and for good reason. Natalia Morales is quiet and studious. Natalia Morales gets straight A’s and never gets into trouble. She’s the good girl. But while all the other sixteen-year-olds of Griffith High are chowing down on a burger and enjoying their milkshakes here at Freddy’s Shake Shack, I’m busy writing the most important letter of my life.

The crime has been minimal today, though. I’ve been here for two hours now and I’m considering actually doing my homework at this point.

Dear Action Team,

Hey, it’s me. Natalia. Heard Electrona left the team last month.

Okay, that’s bad.

I crumple up the paper and toss it on the counter.

Dear Action Team,

How’s your guys’ summer going?

Jeez, that’s…dumb.

Dear Action Team,

I let out a long exhale. If they wanted me to join the team, they would have written back by now. Or texted or called, even. I left all my contact info in the letter I sent to Captain Force, their leader, at the start of summer. It’s just like Prima tells me all the time: If he’s not responding, he’s just not into you. It’s crazy that I’m even taking that kind of advice from a nine-year-old, but she’s right.

Ah, la princesa en rojo, Marvin, the owner of Freddy’s sings as soon as he strolls past the counter I’m situated at, noting my red pullover. All you’ve had is a milkshake. How about a burger and crinkle-cut fries? On the house. Just took a fresh batch out of the fryer.

Yes, please, I say, resting my tired face in my palm.

Coming right up, princesa.

I’ve known Marvin my whole life. Little one was the name he bestowed upon me, since I’m only five-foot-two, much shorter than my little sister Alyse and my twin brother Max. Alyse was feliz, because she was always so bubbly and enthusiastic when we popped in. Max was just called big bro growing up. But since I’ve been coming back on my own, Marv’s been shocked by how much I’ve grown up. I’m still shorter than everybody, but I finally look my age.

Oh, and only lettuce and tomato on the burger, Marv, I add as Marvin tosses a beef patty on the grill.

You got it, Marvin says with a smile. Like my pickiness is charming. No one else seems to think so.

You have a good afternoon, boss, Marvin says to someone exiting.

I turn around, and my eyes go wide. It’s the boy I see here almost every time I come in. I always assume I won’t ever see him again, but every day he is here without fail. Today he’s wearing a black zip-up jacket and blue baseball cap, but I recognize him. His hands are shoved into his pockets, like all he wants to do is hide from the world.

It’s all I want to do, too.

The boy gives Marvin a respectful nod. We make eye contact, but he adverts his attention to the floor as he pushes the door open with his shoulder and leaves. My existence means very little to him.

Marv, who was that? I ask, because I’ve been meaning to.

That would be one Cam Harper, princesa. Comes in around this time every day, always alone, ever since his mama died. She worked here. You probably remember her. Linda, our old hostess.

I do remember Linda. She was older, maybe my own mother’s age before she died, with thick, wavy brown hair that hung over her shoulders, and the most beautiful blue eyes that seemed filled to the brim with all the love in the world. She was a mother herself and talked about her son to us sometimes. She said he was in the same grade as Max and me, but went to Kensington, the all-boys private school.

Apparently, she was shot one night last summer while walking to her car after closing up at Freddy’s. There was a memorial for her here at the diner and everything. After the incident, Aunt Rosa told us we should stay away from Freddy’s for a while out of fear that another shooting would take place again, definitely to Alyse’s disdain. That’s why I tell her I’m at the library. If she knew I was coming here she’d flip.

He’s about your age, I think. Marv gives me a wink, then puts the well-done beef patty on top of a pretzel bun, and dresses it up with beautifully sliced lettuce and tomato before topping it with the second half of the pretzel bun. He sets my plate in front of me; it’s a masterpiece. Alyse and I used to take pictures of our food here all the time and upload it to Filtergram. Everyone does when they come here. His well-designed plates of food have got to be Marvin’s secret marketing strategy.

Dude, I swear I saw Empathy the last time I was here, Ryan Pierson, a sophomore from my school, says. He’s always exaggerating stories to be the center of attention, so his friends aren’t buying it.

Yeah, right, dude, Another boy says. This one, I don’t recognize. He looks a bit younger, barely in the throes of puberty, so he’s probably an incoming freshman.

Really, I did! She came out of the bathroom and ran out the back door. When Ryan notices that I’m listening, he points at me. Right, Natalia? You were in the bathroom when she came out. Did you see her?

I shrug. "She must have been in a stall when I walked in, because I didn’t see her. I’d remember that." I turn