Morning brought black skies and thunder. Collin thought the weather fitting, although he didn't much like how Mrs. Weavers startled at every flash of light. Breakfast was quiet and tense. The ride to school was worse; Mr. Weaver clutched the steering wheel and stared straight ahead, expression bleak. Collin expected the man to turn the car around every time they stopped at a red light.

If Iris was bothered by any of it, it didn't show. She spent the ride staring out the window. Collin did the same, sneaking glances whenever he could get away with it. He thought he could see a little bit of the scar where Iris had tucked her hair behind her ear, but maybe he was imagining things.

The drive took longer than it probably needed to. The rain pounded over the windows and roof, enclosing the car in a bubble of silence. Collin was hyper-aware of every minute, gut tight with borrowed tension. He tried to think of something to say that wasn't inane comments about the weather. They reached school before he found a suitable topic.

Mr. Weaver reached into the back and hugged Iris, told her to call if she needed anything, anything at all.

"Don't worry, da," Iris said, in a tone that passed for comforting if one was deaf.

Mr. Weaver hugged Collin, too. Collin had to swallow over the lump in his throat before he could offer his own goodbye, which came out as a rather pathetic, "See you."

They walked to the door under murky skies. Mr. Weaver was still in the lot when Collin turned to check under the guise of folding up his umbrella, just before they went inside. He probably meant to hang out until the late bell. Collin didn't think Iris needed the safety net, but if it made Mr. Weaver feel better, who was he to judge.

It was close enough to first period that the halls were full. People stared and whispered, but no one came up to them - a far cry from the stampede of well-wishers Collin had expected. In fact, the looks they were getting were downright unpleasant.

Collin glared at a gaggle of gaping freshmen blocking their way, somewhat satisfied when they scattered like pigeons. "What's their problem?" he growled.

"It's the scar," Iris said.

Collin glanced at her, confused. "But your hair is down," he said before remembering the other, more visible mark of her disappearance.

Iris arched a brow. The scar over her blind eye pulled tight, glinting bone-white. Collin shrugged sheepishly. He no longer saw the scar when he looked at her. The blind eye was as part of Iris as her lips or nose, nothing whatsoever strange about it.

"It's still rude," he muttered. Iris laughed under her breath.

Ms. Hayes, the homeroom teacher, met them at the door with an anxious smile and an overly-chirpy greeting. She pulled Iris aside for a chat. Collin grabbed a seat close to the front, which wasn't his usual style. He kept an eye on Iris as subtly as he knew how. Most of the class did the same, and with less care of being noticed. A few of the guys in the back got rowdy, elbowing each other and making vaguely baboonish noises. Collin smirked to himself. He was very much looking forward to witnessing inept attempts at flirting aimed at Iris.

"Class, we have a new student joining us," Ms. Hayes announced. She waved Iris forward with another strained smile. "This is Iris Weaver," she said, and then sort of trailed off, hand still gesturing, mouth open, no words coming out.

The whispers picked up. Someone'd googled Iris while Ms. Hayes fumbled her introduction. A phone was passed around. Up front, Ms. Hayes wrung her hands while Iris smiled benevolently, like a conquering tyrant.

"Yes, I am that Iris," she said.

Ms. Hayes cleared her throat. "We are very happy to have Iris with us. Let's make her feel welcome," she said, her expression saying, or else.

Homeroom lasted fifteen minutes. Ms. Hayes read the day's announcements out, which she never bothered to do. There was very little of interest, certainly not enough to occupy the ten minutes left until the bell, but Ms. Hayes managed against all odds. The class was suspiciously quiet, most everyone preoccupied with sneaking glances at Iris. Iris didn't seem aware of the scrutiny. She watched Ms. Hayes with the kind of rapt intensity teachers only dreamed about, falling into the mold of the model pupil with practiced ease. She looked like the girl from the old pictures for the first time since Collin'd seen her in the flesh.

The bell rang. People scurried out, throwing glances Iris's way. No one came up to her, or said a word in greeting. Collin tried not to glare too obviously.

"It won't last," Iris said. They were on their way to class, navigating crowded hallways and people's stares. Collin kept his head down, mostly so he wouldn't bitch anyone out.

"Good," he muttered.

Iris smiled. "It probably won't be," she said, and took the lead, walking fast enough to make Collin work at catching up.

They made it to calculus with the bell. Collin had Iris's books, all seven of them, one for every class. They hadn't had time to stop by her locker. He piled them up on an empty desk and took his seat. Iris was made to stand up front again, with the added touch of a tearful hug from Ms. Levitt. The woman had been around when Iris had disappeared, apparently, and was so very happy to see Iris safe. Iris accepted the gesture with a smile and a flinch.

"You don't have to let them touch you, you know," Collin told her between classes.

Iris looked at him strangely, and said nothing.

The circus repeated in history and lit. The word had spread around school; people were getting used to the idea of a girl returning from the dead, which led to unfortunate attempts at conversation.

"So, like, are you okay, and stuff?" a girl in lit asked, pink lip gloss and panda-eyes.

"Sure," Iris said.

"You're so brave," another gushed just before history kicked off, "If something like that'd happened to me, I'd be a mess."

"Alright," Iris said.

"Sick scar," a boy commented as they took off for music.

"Thanks," Iris said.

And so it went, on and on. Iris played along well enough. Collin didn't have her patience, and opted to practice selective hearing instead. Music theory was especially fun. The teacher'd burned out years ago, and often traded lessons for vaguely-musical movies. Collin spent fifty minutes grinding his teeth over The Sound of Music - which they were watching for the second time this month - trying to ignore the voices clucking around Iris.

Iris's locker was on the first floor, with the freshmen. They swung by before lunch, accompanied by stares and tentative greetings. Iris waved and smiled, seemingly unbothered by the attention. Collin watched her through narrowed eyes. He was so preoccupied with looking for cracks in her persona that he didn't notice Derek until he was right next to them, towering over their lunch table like a particularly agreeable tree. He'd gotten his hair fixed, and looked almost normal in a gray tee and jeans.

"Nice haircut," Collin said.

"Thanks?" Derek said, obviously waiting for the punch line.

Collin shrugged. It was a good haircut, made a lot better by the fact that Derek turned out to be pretty good looking under all the extra fringe. Square jaw, dimples, blue eyes, high cheekbones - Collin had no clue how a guy like that'd gotten away with brooding in the library all on his lonesome. Half of the people staring at their table were looking at Derek. Some of them possibly because he was freakishly tall and still hovering, but still.

"Well, sit," Collin said when it became clear Iris wasn't going to, motioning to a free chair with his sandwich. He sent a mental word of apology to the Weavers. If it were up to Collin, he'd be keeping Iris away from Derek, not the other way around.

Derek sat. "How was class?" he asked Iris.

"Boring," Iris said. She was picking the lettuce out of her own lunch with a frown of utter concentration.

"Nobody," Derek hesitated, throwing a very obvious glance Collin's way, "you know?"

"Nope," Iris said, and moved onto liberating the tomatoes.

Collin stared at the hill of vegetables forming on Iris's side of the table. "Seriously?" he muttered.

"Greens are for salads," she told him, very matter-of-fact.

"So eat them separately," Collin said.

"You want them?" Iris asked, flapping a tomato slice his way.

Collin made a face. "It's a waste, is all I'm saying."

Derek stared at them both, expression caught somewhere between happy and confused. "You two are close," he noted.

Collin swallowed wrong, and spent a few seconds coughing up wet bread. "He is my little brother," Iris said, which only made Collin wheeze harder.

Derek didn't have a lunch packed. He sat there, smiling at Iris, making no move whatsoever in direction of the lunch line.

"Go get something to eat," Collin said when he couldn't stand it anymore.

"I'm not hungry?" Derek said, and looked at Iris, as if she'd have something of an answer to what shouldn't have been a question in the first place. "What should I get?" he wondered next.

Iris had no input on that topic, either. Derek looked at Collin, sort of helplessly.

"The pizza's alright," Collin said.

Derek lumbered off. "What's his deal?" Collin asked once he was out of earshot.

"So you noticed," Iris said, sounding pleased, like Collin had performed some sort of unexpected trick.

Collin scowled at her."He's a fucking doormat," he hissed, partly so no one else'd hear, but mostly because Iris got on his nerves without even trying.

"He chooses to be a doormat," Iris corrected.

"Was he always like this?" Collin asked.

Iris considered the question. "He is overdoing it a little," she said, without any apparent concern.

Collin had more to say, but Derek was on his way back, so he contained himself to a very disapproving glare, which slid off Iris like water from a duck. Derek had gotten pizza and fries, and one of those tiny milk cartons they sold at schools. Not the most balanced of meals, but at least he was eating.

"So," Iris said, "what's been happening while I was gone?"

Derek launched into a detailed account of the past two years. Iris offered comments, mostly dry observations about old classmates and their shortcomings. Collin listened with half an ear. He looked around, somewhat pleased to find that people had lost interest in gaping at their table. Michael and his cronies were nowhere to be found. They'd probably gone out, or were otherwise ditching. Collin decided not to worry about them until he had to. It was a good policy for most things in life, he'd found.

There was a girl sitting alone in the back of the lunchroom. Collin noticed her because she was one of the few still staring at Iris, then did a double-take, because no one else'd stared like that.

"There's a girl glaring at you," he said to Iris, cutting through Derek's chatter.

Iris didn't turn to look. "What does she look like?" she asked.

"Bleached hair, nose ring, black nail polish." Collin took another furtive look, noting the runny mascara and faded band t-shirt, "Sloppy goth," he concluded.

"Do you know her name?" Iris asked.

Collin shook his head. Derek made to look, but Iris put her hand on his arm, keeping him still.

"Let her be," she said, and got up, successfully distracting Derek from the unknown girl.

"Where're you going?" he asked.

"Bathroom. Don't ask me to come with," she said.

Derek frowned after her, watching until she was out of sight. He turned to Collin, eyes questioning.

"Eat your damn fries," Collin said, and went to throw out his trash. He snuck a glance at the table in the back.

Nose-ring girl was gone.

"Bathroom," Collin told the security guard manning the door. The man waved him on without looking up from his phone, muttering something about the bell being in ten.

Collin tried to remember where the girls' restrooms were. He walked quickly, gut tight. A flash of bleached blonde rounding a corner down the hall had him picking up speed. He got to the end of the hallway and spotted Iris lounging against a locker, obviously waiting. Nose-ring girl was advancing on her rapidly.

"Hey!" Collin tried.

Nose-ring girl swung at Iris with a fist and a harsh, broken cry. Iris caught her arm and pulled the girl around into an awkward half-embrace, dragging her into the restrooms kicking and screaming. Collin hurried in their direction, swearing.

The shouting cut off abruptly. Collin hesitated in the doorway, unsure of whether he wanted to involve himself in whatever the hell had just happened. He leaned in. "You okay?" he called, wincing when his voice echoed back. All he could make out from the door were the sinks and the mirrors.

"Fine," Iris said from somewhere further inside.

"Wasn't talking to you," Collin said, only half a lie.

There was a brief silence. "I'm fine," another voice said, muffled and a little rough. Great; nose-ring girl was crying.

"Don't let anyone in," Iris instructed.

A stall door closed with a loud bang. Collin gaped at the sinks.

"I'm not Derek," he snapped. He turned to leave.

"Erm," the girl standing behind him said.

Collin staggered against the door, heart pounding. "You can't go in," he blurted.

"Why not?" the girl asked.

"There's - there's a guy inside. Fixing, um, something," Collin said, grasping at whatever straws his brain threw at him.

"Oh. Ok," the girl said.

She left. Collin thumped his head against a nearby wall a couple of times.

Derek found him four girls later. Collin was slumped in the doorway by that point, legs stretched out to block the entrance.

"There you are," Derek said, pleased, as if they were all paying some hellish game of hide and seek.

"Go away," Collin told him.

Derek had the gall to look insulted. "Is Iris in there?" he asked.

"No, I'm hanging around for fun." Collin snapped.

Derek leaned in the doorway. Collin pushed him away with a disgruntled noise.

"Is she okay?" Derek asked, not budging an inch.

"Peachy," Collin grunted. "Seriously, back off, people are staring - shit."

Collin straightened hurriedly. Derek, who had been leaning against his shoulder for balance, almost fell over.

"Kira," Collin greeted, smile wooden.

Kira waved back, still halfway down the stairs that led up to the second floor. Collin hoped she had somewhere to be, but no, she walked right over, looking from Derek to Collin with great suspicion, as any normal person would.

"What's happening?" she asked.

"Nothing. Hey, you weren't in calc this morning," Collin said.

"Student council meeting," Kira said. "Listen-"

"During class?" Collin broke in. He really didn't want to lie to her, or open the can of crazy caterpillars that was Iris.

Kira gave him a look, obviously aware of what he was doing. "It was an emergency meeting."

"You get a lot of those?" Collin asked.

"Just the one," Kira said through her teeth.

The bell rang. People swarmed the hall, bubbling out of classrooms like ants from anthills. Collin had a mild moment of internal panic, thinking of all the girls he'd have to turn away. He was going to be known as the creep lurking by the girls' bathrooms for the remainder of his days.

"You should be getting to class," Kira said to Derek.

"I'm good," Derek tried.

Kira kept staring at him, the way only mothers and really smart women could. Derek folded in three seconds flat.

"I'll see you after school," he muttered, throwing one last look at the bathroom door before he lumbered off.

"Is your sister in there?" Kira asked.

"She's not my sister!" Collin said, a little too empathetically.

Kira raised her brows at him. Collin slumped.

"Yeah, she's in there," he sighed. Why bother.

"Is she okay?" Kira asked.

"I think so," Collin said. Nose-ring girl was probably not, but Kira didn't need to know about that mess.

"I could go check," Kira offered, gaze slipping over Collin's shoulder.

"You don't have to," Collin said, going for nonchalant though he was ready to beg her to leave it alone.

"I kind of do," Kira muttered, and then glanced at Collin, doing the facial equivalent of a guilty wince.

"Is that what the meeting was about?" Collin asked.

Kira bit her lip. "Yeah," she admitted. "The school wants to make sure she's happy here. Bathroom's out of order." The girl trying to squeeze between them gave Kira a dirty look, but moved on. "How long has she been in there?" Kira asked.

"Couple of minutes," Collin lied. "I'm sure she's fine," he added, hoping he didn't sound as fed up as he felt.

"I'm good," Iris agreed.

Collin started. Nose-ring girl pushed past him before he could get his bearings, with enough force to make him stumble. "Hey!" he protested. She flipped her middle finger at him and beat it down the hall without looking up, her eyes puffy.

"Was that Miriam Castello?" Kira asked, staring after her.

"Yup," Iris said. She leaned against Collin's shoulder, all friendly. Collin tried to shake her off, but she clung like a leech, with nails and everything.

"We haven't met yet," Iris said, smiling sunnily.

"Yes," Kira said, somewhat uncertain. Iris's smiles were more reminiscent of a grinning shark, even when she was trying to be sweet. "I'm Kira."

"I know," Iris said, with a meaningful glance Collin's way. Collin badly wanted to stomp on her foot.

The second bell rang. "I better go," Kira said. She glanced between them one more time before visibly deciding she wanted no part of whatever was going on. "See you later," she said.

"Yeah," Collin said, staring after her mournfully. He didn't get to leave.

"Alright, get off me," he told Iris.

Iris promptly slumped, knees buckling. Collin wrapped an arm around the girl's waist, moving on instinct. Iris was a dead weight for a few breathless seconds. Then she shook him off and staggered against a wall, legs unsteady. Blood dripped down her lips and chin.

Collin stared in horror. "You're bleeding!"

"'s my nose," Iris said. "Just need a - a moment."

She crouched, pressing her head against her knees. Collin hovered over her and felt painfully useless. There was blood on the floor now, too. His stomach turned.

"Does anything hurt?" he asked.

"Head," Iris said, voice muffled. She waved her arm at him. Collin helped her up.

"We're going to the nurse," he said firmly.

"'m fine," Iris slurred. Her good eye was unfocused, and her face shone with sweat.

"Yeah, you're peachy," Collin grunted.

He staggered to the elevator, which students weren't really supposed to use, but the nurse's office was on the second floor and Iris was far from a lightweight. Iris was quiet. She was also shivering, at times so badly they had to stop walking and wait for it to pass.

There was a hand-written note tacked to the nurse's door. Out for Lunch, Collin read, numb with outrage. He banged on the door. Nobody answered.

Iris shook. Collin couldn't think; his head was stuffed with cotton, everything that was not Iris far away and colorless.

"Breathe."

Collin did. His vision had grown static-bitten without his notice, the new voice registering with some delay. He swung around. A man stood in a doorway across the hall. He was tall and gaunt, his eyes bruised by lack of sleep. His features were sharp, from his nose to his cheekbones to the broad spread of his shoulders. Collin took a step back without meaning to.

"Is she alright?" the man asked.

"She's fine," Collin said quickly. Iris swayed, muttering something about a river. "I was taking her to the nurse," he amended.

"Bring her in here," the man said.

He disappeared into his office, leaving the door open. Collin stared after him. He weighed his options, but Iris came out heaver, so after the man he went. The plaque nailed to his door read, COUNSELOR.

There was a sofa. Iris sprawled over the cushions like a drunk starfish, uncaring for her captive audience. The man motioned for Collin to sit, which he did most reluctantly, the only available chair being the one across the man's desk. The man was rummaging through a satchel of the kind doctors totted about in old movies. He came away with a plastic baggie that had a bunch of pills in it, fished one out, and made for Iris.

Collin got out of the chair. "What's that?" he demanded.

The man smiled. He probably didn't mean to look like a snake about to swallow a mouse, but the similarity was still uncanny.

"Aspirin," he said, and offered Collin the pill for inspection.

It was an aspirin; that, or someone'd gone the extra mile in carving out the letters in a tiny pill. "Why give it to her?" Collin asked.

"It relieves pain, and it's anti-inflammatory," the man said.

Collin handed the pill back. Iris had her eyes slit open when he looked at her. "Give it over," she said.

She swallowed the pill and dropped off again. Collin watched her, something niggling at the back of his head.

"My name is John Reed," the man said. "I am a counselor here."

"Since when?" Iris asked before Collin could. He didn't remember seeing the man, and Reed wasn't exactly the type to blend in with the crowd.

"Oh, about a week." Reed said. "I need to check your eyes."

Iris sighed irritably. "I'm fine," she said, but allowed the man to examine her eyes and take her pulse anyway, all without flinching.

"Did you hit your head anywhere?" the man asked.

"I didn't faint," Iris said.

Reed looked at Collin.

"She didn't," Collin confirmed. Iris grumbled under her breath.

"Your nose was bleeding," Reed noted, somewhat pointed, as if nosebleeds had some deep, hidden meaning.

"It was a big one," Iris said, nonsensically. She sat up. "I'm all better. Let's go, Cal."

"I don't think that wise," Reed said.

"Why not?" Collin demanded.

There was a small TV mounted above the sofa. Reed clicked it on. A newscaster was mouthing something with frantic enthusiasm, on the backdrop of swaying trees and - waitaminute.

"That's our school," Collin blurted.

Iris side-eyed him, evidently feeling well enough to deliver sarcastic glares.

"That's correct, Mr. Weaver," Reed said.

"Not Weaver," Collin said, only just remembering to add, "Not Cal, either."

"Not yet," Iris said.

Reed watched them with muted amusement. "I'm sure you can guess what all the fuss is about," he said.

A red title card announced the segment as, BREAKING NEWS:DISAPPEARED GIRL FOUND ALIVE. Collin stared at the screen morosely. They were gonna bust out the old newsreels and the recordings of Mrs. Weaver in tears, pleading for help, he just knew it.

"Turn it off," Iris said.

Reed did. "You should call your parents," he said.

Iris sighed, but got her cell. She'd barely hit the speed dial before the call clicked through. "Hey, mom. Yeah, I saw."

"Who even told them," Collin muttered, glaring in mid-distance. He could hear Mrs. Weaver panicking from where he sat.

"Any number of people could be responsible. Classmates, teachers. The principal was considering issuing a public statement, I believe," Reed said. "Hot chocolate?"

Collin looked at the man. "What? Um, no, thanks."

Reed put the box of powdered chocolate down on his desk, next to a bag of pink marshmallows that Collin, in all the excitement, had somehow failed to notice. "It helps younger students settle down," Reed explained, noting Collin's questioning stare.

"Mom's coming to pick us up," Iris announced.

"I'm fine staying," Collin protested.

Iris did her eyebrow thing. "You think they're not gonna want to talk to you? My darling foster brother, blessed with new parents and a resurrected sister?"

Collin hadn't thought of that. He'd never been of much interest to anyone, except for the few months right after his parents' death, but he'd been too young and upset about losing his mom and dad to mind the cameras. Collin winced; they were gonna unearth those tapes too, weren't they.

"You are welcome to wait here," Reed offered.

"Thanks," Collin said, mostly out of habit. Iris didn't bother even with that.

Reed made them hot chocolate after all. Collin sipped at his cup, mostly to be polite. Iris mashed marshmallows into the chocolate methodically until there was no more liquid left. Reed was on his second cup by then, and did not appear at all perturbed by whatever psychotic tendency Iris was exhibiting.

"You should probably clean up," Reed said at some point.

Collin was thrown by the non-sequitur, but Iris was already up and heading for the en-suite bathroom. There was still a little blood on her chin and under her nose, Collin realized. It was all gone when she came back out.

"Not a word to my parents," she warned.

Collin shrugged. He wasn't keen on keeping things from the Weavers, but everyone was entitled to choice and privacy. That didn't mean he wasn't going to be keeping an extra-close eye on Iris.

"I am afraid I can't promise such a thing," Reed said.

Iris glared murder at him. Reed smiled back, unperturbed.

"Unless I had some means of ensuring your continual wellbeing," the man amended.

Iris's lips thinned. "When?"

"Twice a week, during your lunch period," Reed said.

"Fine," Iris bit out.

Blackmailed into counseling. Collin was a little impressed, honestly.

Mrs. Weaver arrived some ten minutes later. She charged at Iris from the door, wrapping the girl in a hug that had Iris puffing out a surprised grunt.

"I'm fine, mom," she said.

"I knew it was too early," Mrs. Weaver said. "You are taking the rest of the semester off. It'll all calm down by next fall, I'm sure."

Iris looked more unhappy than she had all day. Collin could almost see the gears in her head turning, trying to churn out a sound argument against four months of home arrest on the spot.

"That would be a bad idea," Reed said.

Mrs. Weaver seemed to only notice the man just then. Introductions were made, and Collin got to learn that Reed had come from some posh university, as a personal favor to the current principal. The news mollified Mrs. Weaver some, and she listened attentively as the man reasoned against holding Iris back.

"You agreed to counseling?" she asked Iris once that particular tidbit came up.

Iris nodded, falsely earnest.

"I will need to speak with your father first, but if you want to remain - and you are diligent about visiting Mr. Reed - well. We can try for a little longer, at least," Mrs. Weaver said, still reluctant but without the finality and fear she'd approached it all at first.

"Thank you, Dr. Reed," Mrs. Weaver said in parting.

Reed smiled, almost warmly. He shook Mrs. Weaver's hand, then Collin's. To Iris, he waved. "See you soon," he said.

Collin shuffled out of the room. He was ready for the week to be over, and it was still goddamn Monday.