"What's your deal, anyway?" Cassandra asked, sitting on the floor in front of the mirror, applying mascara for what seemed like the fifth time since she woke up.

She kept making the same mistake as she sleepily rubbed at her eyes, messing up the previous layer. 

I glanced up from my picture book. "What do you mean?"

She sighed, an exaggerated, impatient sound. Then she turned to me, irritation plain on her face.

"I mean," she emphasized with a sneer, "what's your story? Why are you here?"

For a moment, I considered not telling her. She'd been nothing but difficult since she arrived, but something in her voice made me reconsider. Maybe she wasn't handling things any better than I was.

"I lived in the woods for most of my life, away from people," I started hesitantly. "I'd always seen Ben at the graveyard where he worked. I finally got up the courage to approach him, and... well, here I am."

Cassandra clicked her tongue, looking unimpressed. "Wait, you lived in the woods? With your family?"

I shook my head. "No. I was alone."

The silence that followed was heavy, lingering in the air for a few moments before Cassandra finally broke it.

"Are you serious?" she asked, eyebrows raised in disbelief.

I nodded, unsure how to explain the strangeness of my life in a way she'd understand. Another stretch of quiet passed between us.

"And then what happened?" she asked, her voice softer this time, less confrontational. She wasn't looking at me anymore, her gaze drifting to the side as if it took effort to ask.

"The forest caught fire. I would've died if Ben hadn't told the police I was out there." I stopped, leaving out the details that felt too personal to share.

Cassandra was quiet for a while, as though she was processing it all.

"So, you really don't have a name?" she asked eventually, her voice cautious, as if the question itself could hurt me.

I shook my head. "Not one I remember."

She didn't say anything, and I let the silence settle between us, unsure if she believed me or if she was simply done asking.

The door creaked open, and a tired-looking Ben stepped in. "Morning, ladies. You both ready to go?"

Cassandra stood up, grabbing the red and black backpack at her side. "Yeah, I guess," she muttered, sounding distant. I stood as well, carefully smoothing out my bed sheets before following her lead.

Cassandra pointed at me. "Is she going to school too?"

Ben chuckled. "Her? Nah. Miss here's too smart for that, aren't you?"

He playfully ruffled my hair. "Actually, she comes to work with me most days. It's boring, not sure why she insists on tagging along."

With that, Ben headed out of the bedroom, signaling for us to follow.

The ride to school was unusually quiet. Ben, normally more talkative in the mornings, seemed less at ease with Cassandra in the car. The silence wasn't uncomfortable, just... tense, like we were all waiting for something to break it.

When we pulled up to the school, my jaw dropped. The building was massive—two stories tall with two additional buildings spread out across the campus.

Ben glanced at me and chuckled softly. "Ah, I forgot you've never seen a high school before."

I stared, wide-eyed, excitement bubbling inside me. A month ago, this place would have terrified me. Now, I was more curious than scared.

"Do all people go to places like this?" I asked.

Ben nodded. "Yep. I went here, actually."

"You did?" I looked at him in surprise.

"Yeah, it's where I met Lilly." He leaned over and pointed at the first building. "I was running out of that door, trying to get home fast 'cause I had detention, and my mom was already mad at me. Just as I ran through that door..." He pointed to the glass entrance, grinning at the memory. "I slammed right into Lilly. Never saw her so mad in my life."

We both laughed, and even Cassandra let out a soft giggle.

We pulled into the line of cars, stopping briefly to let Cassandra out. She gave a small wave before disappearing into the crowd of students swarming the entrance.

A strange feeling washed over me—something close to sadness, but emptier, like a hollow ache that came with an odd sense of longing. I watched the students push their way through the doors and felt... disconnected.

"Something bothering you, miss?" Ben's voice pulled me from my thoughts. He glanced at me from the driver's seat as he sped through a green light.

I blinked, surprised he'd noticed. "Hmm?"

He smiled, keeping his eyes on the road. "You look like you're thinking too hard. What's on your mind?"

I hesitated, trying to find the right words. "I don't know how to explain it," I mumbled, embarrassed by how small my voice sounded.

"That's alright." Ben didn't push, but left a quiet space, like he was waiting, ready to listen if I decided to keep going.

I took a deep breath. "When we dropped her off, I just... felt bad. Watching all those kids."

He hummed softly, encouraging me to continue.

"It's like... I'm missing something," I trailed off, hoping Ben would understand what I couldn't put into words.

He nodded thoughtfully. "I get it. You feel like you missed out."

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

Ben pulled into the parking lot and set the car in park. He turned to me, his expression soft. "You feel like you missed out on that experience. It's normal, especially in your situation. There's a lot you didn't get to do growing up."

His words made me feel even worse, like the gap between me and everyone else had just widened.

"But hey," Ben said gently, resting a hand on my shoulder, "that just means there's a lot left for you to discover. Keep your head up, alright?"

I nodded, trying to take comfort in his words, even if that strange, hollow feeling lingered.

The day started like any other—quiet, predictable. Ben had left me with a list of small tasks to keep me occupied, mostly sorting tools and sweeping out the dusty shed.

He had been missing in action most of the day, likely handling things elsewhere in the cemetery, and I didn't mind. It gave me the space I needed to avoid any awkward conversations with the occasional visitor who wandered by.

There was comfort in the quiet routine of it all. I worked methodically, moving from one job to the next without much thought, grateful for the solitude.

Around noon, Ben had popped his head in, reminding me to take a break, but I wasn't in the mood to talk. I just nodded and watched as he disappeared again, leaving me to my own devices. I finished up the last of my chores, the steady rhythm of sweeping and organizing grounding me in a way I didn't expect.

As the afternoon crept in, the shed grew stuffier, and I could feel the first signs of spring heat settling into the air. My clothes stuck to me, and the heavy warmth made the space feel smaller, more claustrophobic. I needed to get out.

I stepped outside, the heat hitting me like a wave, but it was welcome after the cold days of winter. The sun kissed my skin in the most pleasant way as I made my way to the old wooden bench near the shed.

It was tucked away in the shade of a large oak tree, far enough from the main cemetery paths that no one would bother me. I sat down, leaning back and closing my eyes, letting the soft breeze and warmth of the afternoon sun soothe me.

For a few moments, I just breathed, the sounds of the cemetery fading into the background. It was peaceful, a rare kind of peace that I hadn't felt in a long time. The isolation didn't bother me—if anything, it was exactly what I needed. The world felt still, like it was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.

Then, a voice broke through the quiet.

"Good afternoon."

I blinked my eyes open, the sunlight momentarily blinding me as I looked up.

Standing in front of me was James.