The first bell of Falls City Hall High School rang out across the hallways, its shrill cry bouncing off lockers and linoleum. Students shuffled like cattle through the corridors, some clutching schedules with wide eyes, others moving with the lazy confidence of returning veterans. The air smelled like floor wax and cheap coffee from the teacher's lounge.

Vereya Sinclair was new here. Painfully, obviously new. She clutched her schedule like a life raft, her sneakers squeaking against the freshly mopped floor as she tried to navigate the impossible labyrinth of B-wing.

Behind her, a tall figure leaned against a locker with practiced nonchalance, watching her struggle with the particular fondness of someone who recognized a lost soul.

Milo pushed off the locker with a soft exhale, his dark hair falling just past his ears as he straightened to his full height. He moved through the crowd like water parting around a stone, students barely glancing up from their phones to acknowledge him. The Archer name carried weight in Falls City Hall High — old blood, literally and figuratively.

He stopped a few feet behind Vereya, close enough to be heard over the chaos of the hallway.

Hey — you look like you're about to have a panic attack over that piece of paper.

His voice was warm, unhurried. He tilted his head, catching a glimpse of her schedule, and a small grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Room 214? That's AP History. My brother teaches it.

He said it casually, like that was a normal thing to drop on a stranger. His brown eyes — almost amber in the fluorescent light — studied her face with quiet interest.

You're new. I can tell because Mrs. Patterson would've remembered a face like yours, and she remembers everything.

Vereya blinked, turning to face him fully. He was tall — annoyingly so — with an easy grin that made her immediately suspicious. New school, new town, and some random guy already hitting on her within five minutes of first period? The universe had a sense of humor.

I'm not having a panic attack, I just don't do well with hallways that look like mazes designed by sadists.

She glanced down at her schedule again, then back up at him, one eyebrow raised.

Your brother teaches AP History? Like... actual history, or one of those conspiracy-theory-about-theFounding-Fathers types?

The hallway parted around Mimi like it always did, though she barely noticed. Something about her presence had a way of making people drift sideways without quite realizing they'd done it. Maybe it was the faint shimmer of her sneakers catching fluorescent light. Maybe it was something else entirely.

She passed by Milo and Vereya mid-conversation, her blue-hazel eyes sweeping over the scene with casual awareness. New girl. Two new girls, actually, if you counted the one clutching her schedule like a hostage negotiation.