( MIREN'S POV )

I'M SICK OF this place. I want out. I did not sign up for emotional damage when I agreed to join our field trip. Dealing with surfacing traumatic memories is way above my pay grade.

"Miren? What's wrong?" Giovani asks, kneeling down beside me. He took the wooden piece, tracing the engraved message.

     I knew much, much better than to burden them with this. With something that was my fault. I could mask it up. They'd believe it. My parents always do. I'll come up with an excuse, and we'll never have to talk about my brother.

     "Nothing, I think I just pricked myself a little, the edges aren't really smooth," I say, composing myself. If your facade's thick enough, they wont notice a thing. "Let's take this back to everyone else, maybe they know what to do with it."

     Giovani nodded, oblivious. Nayari nodded with caution, but she didn't ask about it.

     I didn't look back at Issac. He'd know.

     Nayari and I walked up to the gap where we entered. I let her slide through first, before going immediately after her. The chatter of the group outside was silenced.

     "Did you find it?" Haven asked, pausing her conversation with Peter.

     Aria had just finished tying off the second braid in Mateo's hair. There were streaks of his hair flying out, while the rest was messily bound together. Aria looked so proud of herself, with her soft smile and glistening eyes and the happiness I could feel she was radiating, and she looked like a little angel and I wanted more than anything to hug her and absorb some of her happiness—but I couldn't, because everyone else would figure out that something was wrong. I faked a smile instead.

     "Yeah, we did," Nayari says. I stepped aside to let Giovani and Issac through the slit.

     "Cute hair," Issac complimented. He looked over to Aria, slightly pointing his finger towards the Latino boy beside her and saying something along the lines of did you do that? She nodded in response.

Mateo felt the braids, letting his hands slide down them. "Thanks, man."

Giovani tiptoed behind Issac, tossing the piece of wood towards Haven, who managed to catch it with one swift motion of her hand. Peter looked impressed, kind of, in his own weird way.

"It's all been for you. Does that mean anything to anyone?"

I wanted to say yes. I should say yes.

"It doesn't mean anything to the four of us," Issac started to say. I needed to thank him later. I surely thought he would sense something was wrong with me and out me.

Aria and Mateo both shake their heads in denial. Peter was busy tying his shoelaces, but I could tell that was a no from him, too. Haven's hope diminished instantly, turning the piece of wood around in every direction for anything. Anything, at all.

I felt so guilty, but Mateo did the same thing with the blade clue, and that didn't end badly.

Okay, that is a lie. I'll just soften the blow, considering I'm not necessarily on bad terms with anyone here, and it'll be fine.

"I guess we should prepare for dinner now?" Aria asked, giving Haven a soft smile, as if to tell her, we'll find the next clue eventually.

Which was exactly our problem. Eventually. When even was that eventually? Because, even if I did tell them what the connection of those 5 words were to me, it wouldn't be enough for any puzzle pieces to click together.

     Is this even what's going to let us escape from this horrid place? Are we focusing on the right course of action? Because trauma is a powerful thing, and most times, it can be used against us.

     "I guess so. I'll pick some berries from the bushes," Nayari declares, with Peter trailing right behind her to help.

     "Okay, I'll go get some water from the river. Does our filter still work?" Haven asked.

     Aria stick the tip of her tongue out in disgust. "I think we need a new one. The water doesn't even clear up anymore."

     Haven nodded, motioning to Giovani and Issac to help her out. They walk until their footsteps were no longer within earshot. Mateo raises his chin to me, "You wanna help me and Aria pick some mushrooms?"

     His face looked so clueless, and so I nodded. I ran off with them, my lips barely moving unless to purse them together. Mateo and Aria continued chattering, and there's no ignoring that they almost looked like brother and sister.

     I wish I'd gone with anyone else—anyone but them, because seeing them only made me sad.

     THE MOON WINKED at me from a sky full of stars, like tiny eyes watching me grieve, and as they twinkle, I imagine them blowing kisses towards me. You're going to be alright. Heal your wounds, child.

     But I hated feeling like a little kid. It made you think you were powerless against the forces of this godforsaken world.

     "Are you planning to eat?" Aria asked me, her lips pointing towards the berries sliding off of my hands. She scooped them up, rinsing them in water, before returning to me. She was so kind to us—our little group of misfits. When I saw her around school, Aria seemed to always keep to herself—at some point I was sure I even caught her roll her eyes and put her middle finger up. But there were no traces of that Aria here.

"Uh, yeah. Just thinking about that clue earlier," I insisted, even though my answer was vague. Issac side-eyed me from a few meters away—and at this point, I knew that he knew.

In a surprising display of affection, Aria wraps an arm around me, leaning on my shoulder. "We'll figure it out. We always do."

These days, I barely allow myself to say it anymore—the phrase with three words and eight letters, because it feels impossible to believe in love when there's no good example of it around you.

     Nayari and Giovani, Mateo and Haven, my parents—all broken and in need of repair.

     Yet, I wanted to say it to her, an impulse I couldn't control. I'm not sure how much I'll mean it, but I needed her to know that, in some ways, I do feel for her like that.

     I turn to my side to see Aria with her earphones plugged in—her head no longer on my shoulder, but the ghost of it lingers. Too late.

     I hastily devoured my dinner and swigged my bottle of water in three gulps, before standing up and running off to..... somewhere secluded.

     "Where are you going?" Giovani interrogated me, his white shirt blotting with days-worth of stains from the woods.

I stopped in my tracks. "I just need some air, uhm, I'll be back later."

I never hesitate with anything I do. Despite needing a fresh breath of air being the truth, I couldn't help but feel guilty.

My boots trailed off, taking me beyond the river. No other pair of footsteps followed me.

The tears fell before I even noticed. My hand trembled as I reached up to wipe them off, until I caught sight of something unusual.

     My tears were red. That can't be right.

     Because it wasn't. Maybe I only wished it was. My fingers gleamed under the moonlight, evidence of the clear droplets.

( ISSAC'S POV )

     I HAVE TO BE QUIET.

     What I'm doing isn't exactly a secret, but there's no denying that a group of teenagers is basically a gossip club. Me sneaking away to follow Miren? Top tier gossip.

     I squatted behind a pile of rocks near the river, further to the left from our area. Miren leaned against the white picket fence, right beside a cluster of bushes—the same ones Aria and I found Nayari drawing by on the first day.

Miren fumbled with her hair, twisting her locks around her index finger. I saw the stars gleam in her perfect, hazel eyes from a distance.

     She evidently isn't herself. That—that quote, we found earlier—that meant something to her. This garden is so stupidly traumatizing to some of us, and as much as it's funny how every clue so far perfectly fits into the deepest part of someone's heart, it's really not funny at all.

     I've gone a few hours without actually laughing, and I think I'm going insane. I want out.

     And Miren does, too. So, like the stupid-teenager-without-a-plan I am, I run over to her. I surprisingly manage not to slip my leg into the ant hill.

     She looks at me in—well, I was going to exaggerate and say horror, but it wasn't. It was normal, as if she expected someone to come running after her.

     As if she expected that I would.

"Do you need anything?" Miren asks, her tone unreadable.

I clear my throat as I sit down beside her. Miren looks away from me, and instead focuses her gaze to the stars in the sky. Being the nosy person I am, my first instinct is to push the truth out of her—but I don't. She's gutted by this, or whatever that quote means to her, and I don't want to force anything out of her. In a way, that's how we respect each other.

Friends, who don't owe each other anything.

"Nothing, really. So, what color do you think I should dye my hair?" I ask, trying to have an easy going conversation to start off with.

     Miren's still looking at the sky, but her eyebrows crinkle together. "You don't like dyed hair."

     She caught me off guard. Have I ever told her that? I don't think I have. "How do you know?"

     "I overheard you in the hallways," she says managing a smile. For a second, her facade was thick enough to have mistaken to be true. "You were always so, so loud."

     I lick my lips out of habit, before laughing. Finally. I finally laughed. I was so close to losing my shit.

     I toy around with the silver chain necklace hanging around my neck, thinking of what to say. Words always automatically came to me in conversations, but with Miren, I felt like I always had to do a double take and make sure I wasn't saying something I'd regret. I feel like a better person around her.

     "I'm no idiot, Scott. Your small talk and body language all indicate that you want me to tell you something," she says, finally meeting my gaze. Miren tried for a stern look, but there must've been something in my eyes for her to look so deeply into them. What was she searching for? A quiet plead for me to stop poking around in her life, maybe?

     "If I was keeping something from you, or everyone else for that matter—which I currently am not, then there's a reason why I'm not telling you. Is that all?" She continues, looking away from me with an, almost, sad look. I followed her eyes down to her shoes—the sides of her boots marked with hand drawn stars in white ink.

     I try again. "I like your shoes."

     That was stupid. She can definitely read through that. I don't blame her, that was such a pathetic attempt.

     "Why won't you leave me alone?" Miren asks, genuinely. No hint of annoyance.

     "I don't know," which is true. "I'm not sure, I just suddenly felt obliged to make you happy or something."

     I hoped to see a smile from her, but there was none. Only curiosity, or maybe longing. I didn't know how to read people the way she does.

     "Miren—you know you don't have to go through these things alone, right? You don't let anyone else do that, so why the fuck are you an exception?" I added. I don't know how nobody noticed her sudden silence earlier, but I did. In an instant, I did.

     I thought she would look at me again, but she doesn't. "Because what I'm going through is my fault—I'm not going into specifics, but my brother died because of me. That's all you need to know. So I can damn well isolate myself to deal with my burden."

     I'm not normally the touchy-feely type, but she's not respecting herself this way, and I think she needs someone to remind her.

     "But that isn't fair to you." I tell her.

"And I'm perfectly fine with that."

I push further. "I'm not." Miren's eyes squeeze shut, and when she flutters them open, I see the tears she painfully tried to hide. I reach my hand into my pocket, taking out a small handkerchief. When I try to give it to her, she doesn't accept it.

"Why do you care?" She asks. It's, again, a genuine question. As if she legitimately did not know the answer.

My responses come easier now—this was the type of question I prepared for.

"Why haven't you pushed me away? Told me to fuck off or something?" I ask her. "If you really can go through this alone, then why let me stay?"

     I see her visibly think over this one. This lead to a moment of silence between us. A minute goes by, and then two, before she finally looks at me in the eyes. I wanted to wipe off her tear stains, but I didn't want her to flinch away. I liked the way she looked at me. It made me feel valued as a person. Only few people are able to do that. In our little group in the woods? Only Aria, Peter, and now, Miren.

     All of a sudden, her face was inches away from mine. Did she move closer? Did I?

     What is she doing? Or am I doing it? What?

     "Miren—what are we doing?" I laugh awkwardly. A laugh should be anything but awkward. This isn't good.

     She doesn't say a word, and she doesn't let me say a word, because her lips crash onto mine before I was even aware of it. Our eyes close, and I kiss her back as an immediate response.

This is wrong on so many levels.

I pull away slowly, careful not to startle her. Her eyes land on mine, so sorrowful that I thought of rewinding the time so that I'd still be kissing her. But, if I did, she'll end up hurt either way. I don't want her to think I'm abusing her sadness.

"You don't mean that, Miren. You're just hurting," I say. "We don't like each other like that."

"Don't we?" She asks me.

The authenticity in her tone kept catching me off guard. Her questions were so philosophical sounding, that I thought of Aria. Another reason why I can't kiss her. I can't do that to a friend. It's so painfully obvious that they have unspoken feelings for each other.

     "We—we don't. I can't even think of a time we seemed romantically into each other," I say firmly.

     She inches closer again. I don't ever feel like I have a choice with her. "How about right now?"

     "Miren."

     She closed the gap between us, so softly, eyes shut, and in complete silence.

     This felt so wrong.

     I felt a hand cupping my cheek. Her lips tasted of strawberries and tea, and I've never tried anything like it. I shouldn't have.

     I thought of pulling away. That was the right thing to do, but her sadness seemed to overflow from her heart, that if doing this would take her mind off of what burdened her, I wouldn't stop her. She gripped the collar of my jacket. I felt tears on my cheek, falling from her eyes.

     They hurt like acid.

     And, ofcourse, like all the forbidden lovers in movies, from the corner of my eye, I see someone watching us. It was Peter, staring me down from the river. I couldn't make out his face, or his eyes, but his gaze burned a hole through me. Shit.

"Hey, uh, Miren," I pulled away, watching her retract her hands from me. Her sadness was immediately replace by horror, which caused me to wonder if someone was behind me.

     But when I looked back, there was no one there.

     Miren took one glance at her hands, panic rising in her as if they were blood stained. She removed her knees from the grass in front of me, moving almost a meter away from me.

     What just happened?

     "Oh shit. Fucking shit. Why did I do that? I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have done that. I've never kissed anyone like that before—or kissed anyone, for that matter. I'm so sorry, please don't hate me." She hugged her knees, breathing heavily and rapidly, tears sliding down her already tear-stained cheek.

     I wanted to reach out to her—hold her and tell her it was okay, that she didn't have to feel guilty, because pain makes you act irrationally, but all my stupid ass could say was this: "I'm your first kiss?"

     She smiles through the tears. "You're such a prime example of stupidity. You know that? But yeah, you're my first kiss, and it's so awkward considering the circumstances. Do you hate me?" Her tone turned serious.

I shook my head vigorously, as if the answer wasn't already obvious. "No—no, ofcourse not. You've got good technique for a first timer," I add, in an attempt to make her smile last longer.

Now she was laughing.

I glance over to the river, but Peter was gone.

"Issac—sure, thanks, I guess. Can we just forget about it?" She says, wiping her tears. I don't think her smile's just a facade right now. I think, for one passing moment, she's actually happy.

This is officially my greatest achievement, and I don't intend on letting it go so easily.

"You think these lips can just forget about that? No way in hell, Buckley."

She folds her right hand into a fist, punching my upper arm lightly.

I don't know why, but I think of Aria and Peter, and immediately blurt this question out: "Do you really like Aria?"

I think I caught her off guard. I saw the slight spray of color on her cheeks, and instantly I knew the answer, but I need to hear it from her.

"I'm not entirely sure, but I think so. I'm doomed, aren't I?" She rocks her head back, exhaling.

I shrug. "There are worse people to crush on," I say, licking my lips. "Maybe like the ones who you've never seen romantically attracted to anyone."

     Miren nods, taking this in. I saw her eyes flicker—one of them showing the Miren I'm used to: witty and all-knowing. But whatever observant comment she was about to make was kept behind her mouth instead, sealed shut.

We were quiet for a while. We continued stealing secret glances at each other, but other than that, we said nothing. I could tell the silence suffocated her, and she seemed to be holding something back, so I gave her a nudge.

"Go on, Buckley, say it."

She put a hand on her right cheek, preventing me from seeing her face. "I was just thinking—since the person I like constantly has her head up in the clouds, and the person you like has shown no sign of romantic attraction, I'm assuming—if we're both still, you know, if we still haven't gotten hitched by the time we're thirty or something—"

"We should marry each other?" I finished the sentence for her.

Miren has both hands covering her face now, hiding her flustered face. Her voice is muffled as she continues talking. "Yeah. That's—that's exactly what I was gonna say. I mean, I know we're not exactly best friends, nor do we like each other like that—"

"Don't we?" I say, mocking her.

"Shut up before you make me regret this, Scott,"
she punches my arm lightly, again. It's cute. "But yeah," she continues, "we're not necessarily anything to each other but friends. Hopeless friends. That's what makes us a perfect pair."

     "Hopeless for you, maybe. Everyone loves me. I'm charming, that way," I say, winking.

     Miren pursed her lips together. "Yeah, maybe, but if you love everybody, then you've never truly loved somebody. It's different. There's always someone out there that means more to you than the rest."

     Despite the atmosphere lightening up, tears start to pool under her chin. I knew it wouldn't last long, but I'm contented with knowing that she overcame her emotions for a second.

     I stare at her, taking this in. She made so much sense. I smile softly to myself. In response to her implied marriage question, I say: "I'm down for that."

     She nods, pushing her hair back to quickly wipe her eyes. "Okay, cool, but no kids. Can you imagine a mini Issac running around the house?"

     I move my ass to sit closer to her. "No, but I can imagine a mini Miren playing therapist while I'm trying to take a nap," I say, containing a laugh.

     "You make that sound so bad," Miren says, exaggerating her point.

     "It is bad. Are you saying you want a 5 year old to tell you how to handle your midlife crisis?"

     I hear a faint laugh from her, and I don't ask for anything else. She keeps to herself, probably having an internal revelation or assessing her trauma. I don't question it.

     "You know, if you ever want someone to talk to about, uh, what you're going through—you should talk to Nayari. Her brother died a few years ago, heard it from my friend whose brother went to the local middle school. She blames herself for it, too."

     Miren nodded in regard. Her eyes were on mine for a couple seconds, before she said: "Thank you for being here. I appreciate it.

     "Just getting to know my most-likely future wife."

     She groans at my stupid remark, but there's a hint of a laugh. Then, silence.

     I put the humor aside. "But seriously, you're welcome. You looked like you really needed someone."

     All of a sudden, we see the silhouette of a tall figure walking towards us. His hands flew around his sides, and his steps were barefooted but somehow heavy. It was Giovani.

     "Everyone's been looking for y—are you okay?" He asks, seeing Miren's bloodshot and puffy eyes.

     Giovani kneels down, his facial features softening. The cocky but familiar version of him has officially left the building, creating room for an emphatic one. He gently wipes the tears from her cheek, smiling softly.

     "I'll be okay now," Miren manages.

     Giovani nods, helping us stand up. "It wasn't you who made her cry, right?" He asks me, raising an eyebrow. I didn't think their friendship was capable of evolving into this. I thought they were all bicker and blame.

     "No, no ofcourse not." I say, but then Miren gives me an almost disgusted look. Oh how the tables turn, she's playing joker now. Giovani sees her face, and I step forward to get his attention. "She's joking."

     "Are you?" He asks her.

     Miren manages a little laugh, choked out the way a baby's would be when tickled for comfort during a storm. "I am. Don't worry."

     "Okay, good." He says, slinging an arm around her. I trail behind them quietly as we return to our group.

MEANWHILE . . .

( PETER'S POV )

"COME ON PETER," Haven says to me, dragging me off the grass. "It'll be quick, I promise. Please? For me?"

Why is this girl trying to get me to hang out with her and her boyfriend? Does she want to torture me or something?

"I'm not third wheeling you and Mr Anger Issues over there," I say, pointing to Mateo, who was already sitting by the river.

Haven's pout instantly turned into a frown—like the ones I see on my grandma when I was refusing to do something that I had no choice in. "I'm not making you third wheel us. We're just gonna talk, like mature people who own up to their mistakes."

My eyebrows crinkled. "What?"

Before I could say anything else, Haven hugs my chest from behind, dragging me to the river.

In one last attempt of saving myself, I call out to the remains of our group. "Aria—please don't make her take me. Giovani? Hey? Please? Nayari? Oh come on, what'd I ever do to you guys?"

     The three of them stared, amused even, as my legs bounce off the ground every time they hit a stupid rock.

     Nayari giggled for the first time today.

     They really hate me, huh?

     "Get up on your feet, Peter, or you'll have wounds on your legs," Haven tells me, but I let myself be dragged.

     "How's your boyfriend's wound by the way? Can he still hold your cheek and kiss you properly?" I say, sarcasm lining every inch of my words.

     Haven drops me on the grass. "This is why you still sit at the weirdos table during lunch. Would it kill you to respect people's boundaries?" She walks back, nearing our little camp, before I realize she's taking my ankles and dragging me by my legs this time.

     "Yes, it would kill me. Hey, thanks for making it even—now I'll have wounds on my head as well. As if my physique already failed me, now my brain's going to, too."

     "You are so lucky I'm still tolerating you," the girl says, her body towering over me as I lay on the ground, as if lifeless. "Everyone else here would've left you in the dust."

     I clutch my chest, pretending to be shocked by her words in an overly dramatic manner. "So what do you call Issac, a ghost?"

     Haven doesn't answer, and instead forces me to stand up. I do so, shaking off the leaves and twigs from my hair. I knew she meant well with that comment, but she isn't the first one to say it to my face. My brother and sister have both said something along those lines, because they don't trust Issac. From their view, they think Issac only talks to me when he's bored. When everyone's fallen asleep. When everyone's unavailable—but it's just not true. I know him better than any of those dirtbags he calls 'friends.' He wouldn't leave me in the dust.

     As we walked to the river, I can't help but look down on Haven. Okay—maybe I'm not tall enough to tower over her, but I am taller by 0.02 meters. I never miss a chance to tease her about this, but her face screams seriousness, and for once, I don't let my mouth move faster than my brain.

"Hey, you're here," Mateo says, greeting us. Or just Haven. Most likely just Haven.

She grins, and even though there was barely any light shedding onto us, I could see it was a little restrained. She crossed the bridge to sit next to him, while I took a spot on a flat grey rock.

I was never the athlete—screw that, I liked to laze around the house all day—so the bottom half of my legs started aching the slightest bit. I removed my socks and shoes, dipping my feet into the water. I could use a spa day once we're out of here.

"So, why are we here?" I ask, wiggling my toes.

Haven smiles, and it's a real one this time. "I'm glad you asked. Look—you're my boyfriend," she says, glancing over at Mateo, "and you're my weird friend who I've grown to have a soft spot for. I can't have the two of you hating each other."

Boyfriend? That was quick. Then again, I saw it coming. Everyone who was friends with the two did. I hadn't known Haven longer than Mateo did, but my people watching skills definitely opened my eyes to my classmates' secrets they thought they hid well.

"He started it," Mateo tells her, his gaze burning a hole through me.

That's enough emotional restraint for the day. "I only asked for everyone's sake, but it was entirely your decision to throw the knife."

"You shouldn't have pushed your question when you know damn well that I'd do anything to get out of here."

"You should've just told us why you kept the knife instead of losing it."

"You should contribute more to the situation if you're so mad about wasting time here—"

"Shut up! Stop it! This is exactly what I'm talking about," Haven says, pressing her nails against her palm. "You were both in the wrong this morning, and it's really pathetic how none of you can man up and own up to your mistakes. Giovani did. Issac does. And everyone else is capable of doing it, so why can't you two?"

There was a moment of silence. Mateo was clearly new to it, but I've been shushed before. Still, there was a sense of fear that came with Haven's plead.

I couldn't compose my thoughts to form a proper apology, but since Mateo seemed like he was about to speak, I decided to beat him to it. One final competition. One that I'll win. My mindset sucks.

"Sorry," I say. It sounded dry, but Haven read through it.

"For?" Haven interrogates, her eyebrows shooting up. She twirled the laces of her blue Converse with one finger as she waited.

My mouth hangs open for a second. "Excuse me?"

"What are you sorry for?" Haven pushes.

I was about to complain, but a part of me didn't want to. Maybe I wanted to get over with this, or maybe the greater part of me's saying that I really meant this apology. That I really didn't want to rain on Haven's parade.

I take my feet out of the water to hug my legs. "I'm sorry for pushing you to answer a question you weren't ready to answer. That was rude." I meant it. A lot of people say it's a problem. Admitting that I messed up is the least I can do.

"Good. Mateo, do you accept his apology?"

He nods, biting back a snarky comment he probably had in mind. "I'm sorry, too."

"For?" Haven repeats.

"For losing my shit and throwing the knife so close to your foot. I didn't want your bloody toes, I swear." Mateo laughs, and I beam at his remark.

Haven nods, looking pleased with herself. "See? That wasn't so hard."

There's a certain comforting feeling in this. I'm actually glad she made me apologize and didn't retreat to doing it for me to maintain her peace. That would only made me look like a fool. I guess sometimes, you have to fight your battles for yourself.

Wait.

Oh no.

I'm so stupid.

I screwed up again.

I can't think of it now. I'll ask him later.

".....your hand? Does it still hurt?" I tuned back into Haven and Mateo's conversation. The latter's hand was still wrapped around the sleeve of Aria's maroon jacket. You couldn't even see the dark spots of blood stains unless you looked closer.

Mateo sways his head, "A little. Okay, a lot, but it's healing. It's nothing like that time my nail ripped off my finger—that one, I cannot forget."

Haven's tongue peeks out between her teeth, putting on a mildly mortified face.

"Hey, can I ask you something?" She told Mateo, pursing her lips together. They conversed as if I wasn't there, but that's not necessarily bad—that kind of means that they don't mind me listening and joining in whenever I wanted to.

Mateo nodded, prompting the girl to speak. "Okay. I've been meaning to ask—but did you only kiss me because you were hurting? You're one of the most important people in my life, but I don't want a relationship based on convenience."

Look at her, making the right decisions and asking the right questions. Almost our whole class knew that her dating history was, well, questionable, and she could've done much better. Funny, because Mateo helped her score her those dates, and now here we are.

I've never seen him react so fast. "No—Avie, ofcourse not. I'd never do that to you. I—the circumstances that night were, well it was not the best, and I shouldn't have asked you do that. That was stupid. God, ofcourse I like you—I have for 19 months now, yes I counted, and I thought maybe that would be my chance to know if you felt the same, but honestly that was a dick move and you would've done it anyway, being a great friend—"

Look at me, Peter Shui, actually there when the drama happens. This is a first.

"19 months? That's almost two years. Why didn't you ever tell me? I would've cancelled all my plans if you asked me out."

     Okay, maybe I was wrong before. Maybe they have forgotten that I was here.

"Do you guys plan on swimming? Or are we just sitting here?" I ask, out of the blue.

     Their eyes land on mine, but they don't have the startled look I expected. Aww, so I guess they do trust me. A mistake, really, but I'm touched.

"Do you? It's getting pretty dark, I don't want to sleep shivering," Mateo says, crinkling his nose in confusion. Haven tilts her head comically.

I mentally facepalm myself. "Oh yeah. Right. Carry on, I'll just be here."

Mateo and Haven lay down on their backs, stargazing and resume their conversation like the picture-perfect couple they are. I don't consider myself a romantic, but it would be nice having a person to sleep under the stars with. Someone that would say 'the moon is beautiful, isn't it?' while laying on my stomach full of flutters.

I look back to the path we took from our clearing in the woods, hearing faint shouts. Aria, they said. Her head's up in the clouds again. That was a normal scene during the past three days. People like her have vivid and imaginative worlds on their minds, and I think that's quite beautiful if you think of it.

Your own little paradise.

     I shifted my gaze from the woods and beyond the river—wait. Is that Issac? Kissing Miren?

     What the fuck did I miss out on?

     Since when?

     Most importantly..... why?

     "Hey Haven, I think I'm gonna head back," I quickly say, putting on my socks and shoes.

     "Yeah, go ahead. We'll catch up."

     I stand up from my position, walking into the woods, my thoughts in more of a mess than ever. When I was out of their line of sight, I ran to our clearing. I don't care if I was never the runner. My legs ached and stumbled, but I kept running.

MEANWHILE . . .

( ARIA'S POV )

     I HAVEN'T WRITTEN in my journal for a while. The paper reeked of caramel and roses from my scented candles. I missed writing under the dimmed light, notes and trinkets lining the wall above my desk, my laptop playing quiet music as white noise.

     Nayari and Giovani sat opposing me, with Peter on my right, who looked annoyed of a persistent Haven, who was looking at a patient Mateo waiting for them by the river. I had no clue of Miren and Issac's whereabouts.

     "Aria—please don't make her take me. Giovani? Hey? Please? Nayari? Oh come on, what'd I ever do to you guys?" Peter says, desperate. I did nothing but grow an amused smile on my lips.

     Nayari giggled—for the first time today.

     I started playing a podcast through my earphones, which luckily wasn't broken by the rainfall a few days ago.

     The Righway Podcast, is the title. Righway High is the name of the school we all attend, with a motto that goes: 'Learning, progressing, and doing things the Righway!' I truly cannot remember how many times I've heard our school's name used as a pun.

Our class representative's voice filled my ears with familiarity.

Welcome to the Righway High podcast! This episode is hosted by Delilah Avery, featuring a few students you may recognize from the Class of '23.

     This week, we'll be talking about the events surrounding the last few months of junior year, and the effects of these, from our own peers' viewpoint, as we approach senior year.

I laid against my backpack, which helped provide some sense of comfort. I glanced at Nayari and Giovani for a split second—they seemed to be talking so seriously. The two evidently had a minor fallout, and I don't want to meddle, so I drown out their hushed conversation with Delilah's voice.

...Issac Scott! Thank you so much for joining us. I think I speak for everyone when I say that you are quite the name in our batch. They coin you as the 'class clown,' correct?

This was last week's episode, which I haven't had the chance to listen to. Hearing Issac's voice anywhere but upfront startles me a little. I prepare myself for whatever witty remarks he has under his sleeve.

"I think so." Okay. Clearly you've done something right to have earned that title. "I mean, it's not my fault I'm naturally funny. Recognition is just a bonus."

The way he spoke was so proper, I almost couldn't recognize it. The Righway Podcast is being listened to by some of our teachers as well, so it's not something new to hear someone spruce up their way of speaking on it.

Lucky you. Now, could you tell us, what activities do you look forward to as our school year concludes? Surely you'd love to end junior year with a bang or with a little flair.

"A bang?" Yes. Not in the literal sense, nor in the icky version of it figuratively. "Thanks for clarifying! *laughs* Well, I always look forward to the year end parties, like band night and the school fair. Personally, I think we're never too old to go down a 3-story tall inflatable slide in the middle of the football field."

I smile to that one. Our school rents inflatables and little food stalls for our fairs, and at one point, even rented a mini rollercoaster. Impossibly, I couldn't agree with Issac more.

I shift my gaze from my lap and onto Nayari and Giovani, who looked a little tense. I look away before they meet my eyes.

...I'm sure. Do you ever feel a pang of anxiety when you realize that senior year is closer than you think? Or are you one with the crowd that can't wait for this year to be over?

"A mix of both. I mean, academic-wise, junior year might be the toughest, and, sorry Mrs. Lowe, but you're really testing me with Math this year. But at the same time, it's scary to think that everything we've been doing so far will just be a distant memory to Righway High. Adulthood is just around the corner, and it sucks."

I agree with you. I think the goodbyes, for me, are what tugs at my heartstrings. "Yeah. I mean, I wont lie, there are some people here who used to bully me but now put me on the highest social pedestal because I'm, apparently, considered 'popular,' but yeah. I'm gonna miss our little class of little sh-ts."

Nevermind. Apparently, even with teachers watching, that doesn't stop Issac from being, well, Issac.

I'm gonna have to bleep that out. "I know. Thank you for saving me a trip to the principal's office!" *laughs* Yeah, I figured you'd be happy about that. Could you tell me, how do you think all these moments of bonding and coming together will prepare us for our final year at Righway?

     "I really don't know why you chose me for this episode. Do I look like a sappy person to you?" *laughs*

     Why don't you phone a friend? "Like in gameshows, when you get stuck on a question?" Yeah, exactly! You'll be the first in the history of this podcast. "You know I'd do anything for my legacy to be a fun one. Okay. *scrolls on his contacts* Let's see who's a fun one here. Ah! Okay. Yep. I've got it."

     "Aria!" Nayari and Giovani scream in unison, which makes me realize that this wasn't their first try on getting my attention. I pause the episode.

     "Yeah?" I say, removing an earbud.

     Nayari takes a deep breath. "Do you think it's fair to me if I'm forced to explain something I'm not ready to delve into?"

     Oh God, are they turning me into their relationship counselor?

     "Well, no—" I start, viciously cut off by another question from Giovani.

     "Okay, but what if I made a mistake and I just want to understand why it hurt her so much?" Giovani asks, his facial features softening from their once sharp physique.

     I smile a little. "I mean, you have the right to ask. So, yeah, that's valid."

     Nayari looks like she's stricken from me taking Giovani's side—which isn't the case. This rarely happens, but his point is understandable. "Okay, fair. But that doesn't mean he can force it out of me. Does that make sense?"

     I nod. "Yes, and yes. Especially if it's a sensitive topic. You'd know about that, right Gio?"

     Nayari looks pleased with herself, in a kind-hearted way. I don't know how she does it. Pride doesn't look like pride on her—it's more of her knowing that what she's saying has truth to it. In a sweet way. I don't understand it myself.

     "I—you're right. You can put your earbud back in," Giovani says, and I delightfully do so.

     I press play.

     "Okay, I'm calling now. *phone ringing* Hello?" Can you tell us who you're calling? "Oh yeah, sure, it's Peter Shui. He plays violin."

     (Are you calling me? Since when do we do that, and why did I not get the memo?)

     "Geez, hello to you, too. I'm on the Righway Podcast."

     (*phone moving* *footsteps* Okay. Then, uh, why are you calling me?)

     "Delilah—you know Delilah Avery, right?"

     (Yeah, everyone knows her.)

     Hello! (Oh, uhm, hi!)

     "I thought—I thought you'd have a good answer to this one. 'How do you think these moments of bonding, aka the school activities and events of junior year, will prepare us for our final year at Righway?"

     (And you just had to call your avoids-sappy-conversations-at-all-costs and barely-talks-to-anyone friend?)

     "See? You get it."

     (Very cute, Issac. Bye. *call ends*)

     *laughs* I'm definitely keeping that in. "I probably look like a fool now, don't I?" No! No, you're all good! Peter, if you're watching this, thanks for that funny bit.

     "Yeah, real funny -sshole."

     I don't think I can save you a trip to the principal's office two times, Issac! *laughs* "Oh well. F-ck it. I have three strikes now."

     I think this is where it ends with your segment. "Oh yeah. It should've ended with my little sh-ts comment, honestly."

     *laughs* Okay, well, thank you for joining us!

*intermission music* Our next guest is a wild card, and a real friend when you need one. Please welcome, Haven Ada—

     "Hello?! Earth to Aria Harlows?" Nayari and Giovani call for me again. I pause the episode and remove my earphones.

     I don't want to play therapist. Miren should've been here, but she seemed a little odd, so I guess I wouldn't want to burden her with this. I don't think I've ever witnessed her so silent compared to the past few days.

"Yes?" I say, my tone slightly on edge.

"Do you think it's fair to me that I confess my feelings to her and she leaves me with no answer?" Giovani says, his eyes pleading.

I don't know why he thinks I'd have any experience with this. Then again, I was the only one left here, with five of us MIA to give Giovani and Nayari relationship counselling.

Well, apparently, not even a relationship.

I didn't even think it was possible to like someone within a couple of days. Haven and Mateo had known each other for quite a while, and maybe our situation had only ignited their unspoken feelings for each other, but to my dismay, Giovani and Nayari's was a completely different story.

"I don't know."

Giovani crinkles his eyebrows together. "You don't know...?"

"I mean—I think you deserve an answer. But if Nayari can't give you one, maybe, you know..... maybe she doesn't have one yet...?"

Nayari purses her lips together, looking like I said the exact response she had for him, if she wasn't too afraid to admit it.

"It's only been a couple of days. Less than a week, even. You understand that, right?" She tells him, guilt written all over her.

     Giovani seems as if he was currently in the five stages of grief, one second each for the first four, before acceptance takes over. "Yeah."

     The two sat closer, but spoke no words. You know how in movies, where two characters from two separate locations are put up side by side on the screen? In their own worlds, but right next to each other? That was my view.

     So instead, I had been the one to ask. "Are you two okay now?"

Nayari smiles softly, "I think we will."

Giovani's facial expression screams I-did-not-expect-this-but-thank-God!

A short moment later, I hear footsteps from the path to the river, but it was only Peter.

"Finally, she let me go. What did I miss?" Peter asks, out of breath. He carried his jug of water triumphantly, chugging it all the way to the bottom.

I sink deeper into the ground, still leaning against my deformed backpack. "Relationship counselling for these two," I explain, pointing at the pair in front of me. Nayari gives me a wide-eyed look.

Peter wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "Oh, so basically the same thing I just did with the other two. Except they did the talking and I only listened. Okay."

He sits himself down, tilting the violin in his backpack to avoid hitting his head.

"Why did you bring that with you?" Giovani asks, bewildered. Again, miraculously, he had a point. Nobody brings a violin to a field trip.

Peter scrunches his eyebrows together as if that was the strangest question he's ever been asked. "You all have your hobbies," he says.

It's true. Me with my journals and never-ending poetry books, Nayari with her portable art kits, Giovani with his bag of fidget toys, Mateo with his tea making kit..... the list goes on, really.

More footsteps emerge from the river's path. Haven was holding Mateo's injured hand with care as they waltzed into our clearing.

     "You know, under normal circumstances, I think we'd all enjoy a party together," Haven says, out of the blue. Giovani and Mateo nod along with her, and frankly, I agree. Very silently. Nayari smiles, which I take as a yes. Peter—well, I think he's half asleep. From the previous night, I heard him and Issac awake later than everyone else, having useless conversations, so the poor boy must be deprived.

     "We should go to one when we get out of here," Giovani says. "I know people, I could get you all an invite."

     Nayari laughs hesitantly. "Drugs and alcohol? Not really my scene."

     "There's no pressure to drink or anything. Mateo only drank twice, and I have a couple of times, but it's really an acquired taste." Haven says. The couple takes their seats between Giovani and Peter, leaving me on the opposite side.

     "Have you drank?" Nayari asks the boy beside her, to which he nods.

     "A couple of times. Mom caught me once, and since I'm her only son, and she's the only parent I've got left to please, I try not to."

     I'm not sure if his good-boy act is the truth or to please Nayari, but either way, he has me convinced.

     "What about you two?" Mateo asks, gesturing to me and Peter. The latter shakes his head vigorously, as if a simple 'no' isn't enough to express his sentiments.

     "I don't think you understand how dangerous it is to drink when you live in an Asian household. I'd be grounded until I have kids," Peter quivered in fear, shoving leftover berries in his mouth.

     Haven's expression was—well, I could only describe it as a Yikes! face.

     Giovani stood up, wiping the back of his shorts to get rid of the dirt. "I'm gonna go find Issac and Miren, they've been gone for a while."

     The four of us collectively nodded, watching him disappear into the woods. It was dark, yes, but most of the trees had burned in the fire yesterday, so the light stretched out farther than it normally would in a forest.

"You?" Mateo follows-up.

I shake my head. "Nope. Unless you count sips from my mom's whiskey."

"Any reason?"

"I don't think I want to do things against my conscience, and alcohol would definitely do that."

The couple nods, taking that in.

The five of us settle in, getting ready for bed. I think it's a journal type of night for me. I don't write on it every day, only when my mind allows creativity for it. I pull it out of the envelope in my backpack, caressing its pink cloth cover delicately. A black sign pen was tucked into the pocket of the cloth when you open it to the first page.

"Can I write in there?" Nayari asks, catching me flip it open to an empty page, bookmarked with a diy photobooth collage of Evie, who was bound to be my sister one day.

I met her gaze. This would be fun. Memories. I nodded, placing it on top of my envelope to avoid tarnishing the cover.

"The three of us too, yeah?" Mateo asks, grinning enthusiastically. I let an amused smile slip onto my lips, nodding to them as well.

Soon, all five of us were seated in the middle, and I had to bring out more pens. I watched the page be brought to life by their distinguishable handwriting and doodles on the side. I decided to spectate rather than write myself, because it would be a nice memory to hold on to. I watched the chaos unfold—the chaos being my friends. That's how I'd write this moment in a novel.

"Hey, what'd we miss?" Giovani shouts over the hubbub, his arm slung around a happier looking Miren. Issac emerged from behind, trying to fit himself into the group.

"They're writing in my journal," I say, updating them. Issac quickly ransacks my backpack for a pen, and successfully finds one lurking in the bottom. He squeezes himself beside Mateo and Nayari.

Giovani drags Miren to the ground and into the huddled group. Soon, they're all fighting over using the pens and spots on the page to write on. Peter and Haven move the tiniest bit, with the latter patting the ground, motioning for me to sit to get a closer look.

For the rest of the evening, there would be nothing but laughter echoing through the woods. The joyful sound of eight mismatched students, who have all learned to love each other's strengths and weaknesses, to protect each other when one has fallen, and to make the most memorable memories during hopeless times.

For once, it doesn't feel like we're trapped.

It feels like we're home.

"ARE YOU LISTENING?"

Its voice was playful and sweet, like a child's, but somehow I could sense danger lurking beneath. Immediately, I recognized it, from the night before my father came: "Nighty-night princess." Who was this ominous voice?

I'm listening. Can you hear me?

"Silly girl. If you're trying to answer, we can't hear you."

We?

My question goes unanswered. "Your father's waiting for you."

Is he really? What if this voice was a pixie? The very creature he told me not to listen to?

"The rooftop forest. Be there before noon, and there'll be a door waiting for you. Miss it, and he's gone."

Wait! What do you mean 'he's gone?'

Again—unanswered.

"Nighty-night princess. Don't make the wrong choice."

( MIREN'S POV )

HE WAS RUNNING. He was in the forest, and slowly I began to notice that it was the same forest we were currently in. Elliot Buckley, my brother, was here.

He couldn't be. That's impossible. He died. I ran after him, to the point where I lost my line of sight back to our clearing. The world blurred, my vision focusing on him only.

Elliot brought me to the cave. He looked at me, even smiled, but said nothing. He didn't stop when the puddles of river water turned red as blood. He didn't stop when the heart-shaped beam of sunlight on the ground started shaking and shattering.

The cavity, imperfectly circle, was wide and low enough for him to climb through. I didn't think you could. We didn't think of that.

What was out there? Would we have escaped if we had stopped running around for clues like Sherlock Holmes?

I was about to join him, take a venture into the unknown, when plants slithered from the cave walls, blocking my path. They looked like Nightshades. Untouchable. For all I know, one touch could be poisonous. I'm not in the right mindset to remember what to look out for in nature.

But I need to know what's out there.

"This is it. This is the end!" Elliot screams, and I'm more confused as ever. He shouts it a second, then a third, then a fourth time.

Until finally, I wake up.

AMELIE SPEAKS !
this one has 9k words. the next one will (most likely) be even longer. i promise it wont be boring. fairytale is taking over my life, and frankly, i'm completely okay with it—i'm emotional even :( it is my first thought in the morning and my last one at night (that is not an exaggeration. it's true.)

thoughts on this chapter ? >>

qotd: mirea or missac? for scientific purposes

fairytale is almost ending! there are 4 chapters left, with the next one being a flashback chapter, where you'll get a glimpse of their lives the day before the field trip, and will explain a few things i've mentioned about the characters. as for the remaining 3 chapters after that.....uhm. you're all gonna hate me. or maybe not. hopefully not. i love u all. but sorry.

also, side note, wtf you guys. the fairytale group's only been with each other for THREE days. i kid u not. i could've sworn it's been a week??????

anywho. this is about to be the first book i've ever finished—i mean ever. i can only guess how much it'll hurt once we're done :(