WHY IS IT THAT WHEN I NEED JAX, I can't find him?

A methodological urge to run up to him seeps through my bones as I pass the school's swimming pool with the heavy book in my bag. The water glimmers beneath the glass roof, a reflection I can't quite look away from. I grip the strap of my bag tighter, forcing myself to focus. Should I go in? It hasn't even been three hours since I gave him a resounding ultimatum. Does this make me look stupid? Will it make him think I'm dispensable?

After battling the war in my head, I approach the pool.

The school's swimming pool has always felt like a strange, liminal space. Silent except for the faint lapping of water against the tile, its stillness amplifying everything I'm feeling right now. Nerves, uncertainty, and hope dance their way through my head as I take it all in. Sunlight filters through the glass roof, scattering patterns across the surface of the pool. I catch my reflection in the water and barely recognize the person staring back.

This seems like a futile attempt to revert back everything I've said to him earlier. I can see that worry etched on my face as I stare at the glass above me. It's just that Jax is always out of reach when I need him most. Obviously, neither of us expects the chain of events to unfold that way, but it's almost like he's a phantom, slipping through the cracks of my life. Okay, I need to stop calling him a phantom. He might take it seriously.

The book in my bag pulls at my shoulder, the weight gnawing at my back muscles. It's numbing though, the only real pain being the one in my head. I think back to the photo, about the group of strangers in the book. 

I hesitate at the edge of the pool, my shoes squeaking slightly against the damp tiles. There's no sight of him, not at first, but I know he's here. Jax never misses swim practice—it's the one thing he's consistent about. It wouldn't matter even if the world crumbles around him. I can't blame him, though. Oddly, standing in this room itself makes me think nothing matters.

I pace the side of the pool, glancing at the shelves where his bag usually sits. Empty. Just as I'm about to give up, a ripple of motion makes me turn around.

And there he is. He slices effortlessly through the water, the reflection of the sun off the pool casting shimmering patterns on his skin. Even in the water, he's so confident about it all. So unlike me.

He reaches the edge of the pool, pulling himself up, droplets cascading everywhere. I don't know if he's done or if he's seen me. But, I watch him shake the water out of his hair, willing him to come over.

It takes him a few moments to notice me there, his face contorting in surprise. I don't come here. The last I came to fetch him from the pool, it was when the news about Amelia broke out.

Yeah, not good at all.

When I see his worried face focused on mine, the world blurs.

"Avra," he says, grabbing a towel on the way and draping it over his shoulders. "Is something wrong?"

He thinks I haven't noticed the change in phrase. He's a smart guy and this is his not-so-subtle way of asking me if I'm doing okay. And I actually don't know how to answer that. I bite my lip, forming a sentence in my head when he realizes it's not too serious.

"You missed me," he exclaims. "It hasn't even been a day!"

I roll my eyes. I'm trying to battle knights of worry in my head while he's making this seem like a joke. "Don't flatter yourself. I came here for a reason."

He smiles, running a hand through his wet hair that lands on me when he ruffled too hard. I scowl, knowing he did it on purpose. "I'm listening."

The book behind me grounds me to reality. "I found something," I say, "Okay, so, Kaia slipped me a note before class and told me to, um, not trust anything and stuff. This is a long story, I need to sit down and explain but basically, I found something odd in the Archives about an old society called 'The Hall'."

"The Hall?" he repeats, "What even is that?"

"See, that's the thing. There's nothing on it, but I haven't looked far enough to find much. I just wanted to get your help, I mean, if you want to help. If you don't, I'll figure something out. I just thought you'd want to know."

He nods, raising his eyebrows. "I get it. You missed me."

"Okay, that's not—" I take a deep breath. "You need to stop guilt tripping me."

"Hey, Jax?" a voice calls out. I notice interruption before Jax does, but the shift in his posture tells me he's already annoyed. I raise a confused glance just as a tall, lean guy strolls over from the diving platform, towel slung around his neck, water still dripping from his jet-black hair. It doesn't even look like he has the towel to dry himself, it's more like an accessory to his outfit. Or, the lack thereof.

"Yeah, Logan?" Jax replies, turning his head but keeping one foot angled toward me. I can already sense there's one hell of a story between these two.

Logan smirks as his eyes land on me. "Didn't mean to interrupt, man. I just need to go over something for the meet next week. Times are shifting."

"It can wait," Jax says coolly, his hand resting on the bench near me. But, I know too well there's nothing 'cool' about this.

"No rush," Logan says, clearly catching on but leaning into it anyway. His gaze shifts back to me. "You're not usually around the pool, are you?"

"Uh, no. Just here to talk to Jax," I reply, suddenly hyperaware of Logan's easy confidence. It's almost like Amelia's. She used to carry herself with the same poise. But, right now, my mind doesn't fixate on Amelia, it turns to this random stranger's jawline, and the effortless charisma—it's impossible not to notice.

Logan grins. "Well, welcome to the aquatic part of the school. You ever swim? You've got the look for it."

I want to ask how my lanky, weak arms and grandma knees are the right look for any sport, let alone swimming, but I don't. At least, he's making this conversation not-so-awkward, even as I prepare to screw up.

Jax stiffens beside me, and I catch irritation flash across his face.

"Not really," I say with a nervous laugh. What else could I say? "Water's not really my thing." Nor anything else, for that matter.

"That's a shame," Logan replies, his smile showing off his perfect teeth. "You'd be a natural. Maybe Jax could teach you."

Jax clears his throat loudly, stepping slightly between us. "Logan, wasn't there something urgent about the meet?"

Logan raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Right. That." He gestures toward the team noticeboard at the far wall. "Times are posted. Thought you'd want to confirm."

"I'll check later," Jax says firmly.

Logan chuckles, throwing up his hands. "Alright, alright. Didn't mean to intrude." His dark eyes meet mine one last time before he starts walking away. "Nice meeting you, didn't catch your name?"

"Avra. Avra Bennett," I say quickly. even as I feel Jax's irritation simmering like a pressure cooker beside me.

"You're the Hall Monitor, right?" Logan says, pausing mid-step as if something clicks in his mind. "I've heard about you."

I force myself to meet Logan's gaze, suddenly acutely aware of how close Jax is standing to me. I can't ignore the way Logan looks at me, like he's piecing something together. It scares the hell out of me.

"Yeah, that's me," I say. Jax smiles too, but this smile is more forced than the one from the time Amelia forced me on a water slide knowing I couldn't swim.

Logan leans slightly forward, his gaze wandering over me, sharp and assessing. "That's interesting. Congrats on that, by the way." He smiles warmly and I meet his eyes. They're so much like the water in the pool. Soft blue irises rimmed in black. I don't even know why I'm assessing his eyes. What am I even doing?

I only turn away when his eyes move to flicker toward Jax, who is perfectly rigid, the muscles in his jaw twitching.

I make a mental note to ask what his deal with Logan is.

"Thanks," I manage to say, forcing myself to focus on Logan. "I didn't exactly ask for the title, though."

"Oh, you must be very talented, then." Logan pulls the towel off his neck and actually uses it to dry, no, style his wet hair. "My little sister applied, but didn't get it. She's class captain and everything so you must be really good."

Okay, Avra. Do not make this awkward.

He leans just a little closer, and it doesn't help that I'm already freaking out.

I clear my throat, trying to ignore the odd flutter in my chest. "Yeah, I guess," I mumble, wishing I could just crawl under the bench and disappear.

He runs the towel through his wet hair. I can't help but watch him, my gaze fixated on the way the water shines on his skin and the way his muscles shift with every movement.

I know I'm staring, and I know it's obvious. My face is probably so red right now it could rival a tomato. I look away quickly. I look at Jax, desperate for a lifeline, but he's standing next to me, arms crossed, jaw tight. His eyes flick to Logan for a moment, and then back to me. There's something in the way he stands, like a protective wall between us, though I'm not sure why. It's almost like he doesn't want me talking to Logan at all.

"Yeah, well, it was cool meeting you," I say, "But I really should—"

"Yeah, of course," he says, meeting Jax's eyes. "I'll catch you around, Avra. Do come over to the pool sometimes." He's still looking at Jax.

As soon as Logan's out of earshot, Jax exhales sharply, his body stiff. He doesn't look at me, but I feel the heat of his frustration radiating off him.

"You good?" I ask, "Is there something going on between you two?"

He shakes his head, grabs his bag and leaves for the changing rooms.

He comes back, hair still wet, gym bag in hand and nods at me. He's already acting weird and he's not going to address it. Almost like a reminder of why we decided on a break in the first place.

"Jax," I say, "What was that earlier? You and Logan?"

He doesn't immediately respond. Just continues his stride away from the pool, while I follow him.

"Jax?" My breath comes out in heaves from how fast he's walking. "Can we actually communicate our problems this time?"

He doesn't stop walking, he quickens his pace instead. I'm almost running to keep up with him, trying not to stumble over air. The sound of my dying heart only grows louder as the space between us widens.

"Jax!" I call again, almost yelling profanities. "I swear if you don't stop walking, I will shove this badge up your—"

He finally slows, but only just enough for me to catch up. His jaw looks like it'll snap at the pressure he's holding it at. He doesn't look angry, I mean, angry Jax would be folding his arms and looking directly at my eyes, reaching into my soul. Now, he's definitely upset. That's usually worse. I can handle anger. I can fight that. But this? Silence makes me want to, like I said, shove the badge up his—

"You and Logan should be the point of conversation," he says.

I almost giggle at the insanity. "What?"

"You were flirting with him, he was flirting with you," he adds, "Logan is not a great guy."

My eyebrows are threatening to express themselves, almost rising up. "That's why I asked what your deal with him is!"

"Absolutely nothing," he says, "I just don't want to see you getting involved with someone like him."

"Okay, Mom." I roll my eyes. "Can we focus on the Hall and whatever you found about the previous hall monitors, please? I'll let you know if I have any romantic interest in Logan later."

"What does that even—" I don't hear the rest of that sentence because I'm already on the search for an empty classroom.

★★★

"Nice, nice," Jax mutters. "I love sitting in dusty classrooms with a dusty bible-sized book about school clubs."

I glance over at him, trying to suppress a smile. He doesn't realize I now have leverage over him. "Would you rather go to the pool? I'd love to see a certain someone there."

He scowls, slumping his shoulders. He takes a deep breath and coughs, dust particles visibly floating around him.

I shove the book onto the table between us with a thud. "Look, I didn't exactly beg. You're the one who wants to be my research partner."

In response, he throws his hands behind his head. "Research partner? More like 'forced to sit here and pretend this is fun' partner. If I wanted to go digging through boring old club records, I would've gone to the library on my own."

I sigh, flipping open the book. The same yellowed pages stare at me, filled entirely with club minutes and notices. The title that was unreadable at the library is now barely visible. Historical Club Archives: A Complete List of All School Organizations from 1895 to Present. It sounds impressive, but it's just a dull mess of irrelevant information that doesn't contain the word 'The Hall' more than once.

"There must be over a thousand pages in that!" Jax nudges the back of my chair with his leg, pulling my attention from the book.

"Two thousands five hundred, actually."

Groaning, he slumps further into his chair, dramatically draping an arm over his eyes as if my sheer atrocity of an answer has physically incapacitated him. "Why do I get the feeling you're going to make me read every single one of them?"

I can't help the small laugh that escapes. "Well, someone has to, and since you're so enthusiastic about being here..."

"I'm here for moral support," Jax shoots back, peeking at me from under his arm with a lopsided grin.

I shake my head and refocus on the book, my finger trailing along the page as I scan for any mention of 'The Hall'. For a while, the only sound in the room is the faint rustle of turning pages and the occasional exaggerated sigh from Jax.

And then I see it.

"Wait," I say, sitting up straighter and jabbing my finger at the text. "Here! It's a footnote, but it's something."

Jax leans forward, suddenly interested despite himself. "What's it say?"

I read aloud, my excitement mounting. "'References to The Hall, an informal society rumored to influence student council elections and faculty appointments, were omitted from official club minutes at the request of—'"

I stop short, squinting at the faded text.

"At the request of who?" Jax prompts, his voice sharper now, all trace of teasing gone.

"I can't tell. The name's smudged," I admit, frowning at the page. "But it mentions they were 'trusted with maintaining the school's legacy.' What does that even mean?"

"Sounds like secret society talk," Jax says, leaning back and tapping his fingers on the table. "So this Hall isn't just some club—it's a puppet master thing."

"Wow," I say, "This is some major crime movie shi— I mean, stuff."

"I will pay you to curse, Avra. It's alright, you can express your emotions in full, uncensored glory," Jax interjects, smirking.

"Focus, Jax. We're not solving a crime here—yet."

"So, it just took missing paintings and cryptic notes for you to realize I was being serious about everything that happened to Amelia," he says.

What a killjoy, this guy. "I never thought you were joking."

"Sure didn't seem that way when you kept blowing off my theories like I was pitching some B-movie plot."

"I wasn't blowing you off," I counter, flipping the page, my finger tracing the faded script. "I just didn't think it was this deep. But you were right. Happy now?"

His smirk returns. "Always nice to hear you admit it."

"Asshole." In that moment, my focus shifts as a phrase jumps out from the page—a single sentence buried amidst a droning list of defunct committees and their meeting times.

"'Known associates include prominent alumni from—'" I pause, squinting. "Why would a school club have alumni associates listed? That's weird, right?"

"Depends," Jax says. "Were these alumni secretly pulling strings from the shadows or just crashing pancake breakfasts?"

I tap the page. "No, seriously—listen. This entry says the group had 'informal oversight of extracurricular governance until the dissolution of their formal existence in 1963.'"

Jax leans in, his face inches from the book. "What does 'informal oversight' even mean? Did they have veto power on the prom theme?"

"Or maybe on who got to run the student council," I add, connecting dots in my head. "We've been talking about 'The Hall' like it's this shadowy cabal, but what if it's not gone? What if they just pretend they were disbanded so they could keep working in secret?"

Jax gives a low whistle. "Now that's straight out of a thriller. You're saying the mysterious ghost club could still be making calls on what happens at school?"

"I'm not saying anything yet," I mutter, flipping the page and scanning feverishly. My pulse is quickening. "But if there's even a chance it's true—"

The sound of footsteps interrupts me. Both of us freeze.

Jax is the first to speak, keeping his voice low. "Did you lock the door?"

"I... didn't think we'd need to," I whisper back.

He moves silently toward the door, glancing at me before turning the handle just slightly. The footsteps grow louder, stopping outside. Then, the knock.

My heart jumps into my throat.

"Uh, hello?" a voice calls out—a familiar one.

Jax opens the door slightly, and I catch sight of Logan standing there, looking far too amused for my liking.

"Wow, okay," he says, catching my gaze. "I didn't think you two were this serious."

I stare at him, confused, just as Kaia walks in with Alephie who's hosting a very haunting smile on her face.

"Perfect timing," Alephie says, her eerie grin widening. "I like what we have here."