Michael didn't move. He just stood there, too calm, too close, like he might say something dangerous.
Loe turned her face away, focusing on the scratched keys of the school piano. "You wouldn't understand."
"Try me."
His voice was low. Not mocking. Not sarcastic. Just… steady. Safe.
And that was the problem.
Because for a brief, terrifying second, she wanted to.
She could feel it rising—words trapped behind her teeth. The weight of everything she'd held in: the dreams, the magic, the strange letters, the way her memories were becoming less Earth and more… Crystal Planet.
"I—" she started, her voice barely a whisper. "Something's happening to me, Michael. Things I can't explain. I'm—"
Trust no one.
The words from the letter slammed back into her mind like a thunderclap. She froze mid-sentence.
No.
She couldn't. Not him. Especially not him.
Her hand clenched into a fist in her lap.
Michael tilted his head slightly. "Loe?"
She swallowed hard and stood up so fast the bench screeched across the floor. "Forget it. I'm just tired."
His brows knit together. "Loe—"
"I'm sorry," she said, backing toward the door. "I shouldn't have said anything."
Then she was gone, slipping into the hallway before he could stop her. Her footsteps echoed like a warning drumbeat.
Behind her, Michael stood in the empty music room, staring at the place she'd just been.
And for once in his life, he had no clever comeback.
Cloe had been walking down the hall with Cristina when she spotted Loe rushing out of the music room, her face pale and eyes clouded with something dangerously close to panic.
"Loe?" she called out, but her sister didn't stop. Just kept walking, fast and stiff, like she was running from something only she could see.
Cloe's eyes narrowed. She turned to Cristina. "Go after her. I'll deal with this."
Cristina, for once, didn't argue and took off down the hallway.
Cloe spun on her heel and marched straight into the music room.
Michael hadn't moved since Loe left. He was still standing near the piano, brows furrowed, lips pressed in a confused line. The silence she left behind buzzed in his ears like leftover thunder from a storm he didn't understand.
And then the storm entered.
Cloe.
She stormed in like a missile in pink lip gloss and fury. Her eyes locked on Michael's like a laser sight.
"You." One word. Ice cold.
Michael blinked. "Me…?"
"What did you say to my sister?" she snapped, walking up until they were chest to chest. "Why did she run out like that?"
"I—I didn't do anything," he said, caught off guard. "I was just talking to her and then—"
"Don't play dumb with me, Hart." Her voice was low now, lethal. "I've known her my whole life and I've never seen her look that shaken. You either messed with her, or reminded her of something she was trying to forget."
Michael's jaw tightened. "That's not fair. I wasn't trying to upset her."
"But you did."
He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. "Look, I don't know what's going on with Loe. One second she's making fun of me, the next she looks like I stabbed her with my words. I didn't mean anything."
Cloe's eyes narrowed. "Intent doesn't erase impact."
That silenced him.
She took a breath, trying to calm down. Her voice, when she spoke again, was cooler. "I don't know what you're trying to do here, Michael. But if you're here to play games, pick someone else."
Michael looked down, suddenly looking more lost than guilty. "I wasn't trying to play anything."
Cloe stared at him for another moment before backing off, though the warning still lingered in her eyes. "Then stay out of her head until you figure yourself out."
And with that, she walked out, not sparing him another glance.
Michael stood alone in the echo of the confrontation, hands in fists, the words "stay out of her head" ringing louder than anything else.
Cristina finally found Loe behind the gym, crouched near the old stone wall with her back to everyone and everything. Her hoodie was pulled halfway over her face, hiding her expression, but the way her shoulders were hunched made Cristina's stomach twist.
"Loe?" she called softly, stepping closer.
Loe didn't respond.
Cristina sat down beside her, cross-legged, close enough to be there but not close enough to press. "You okay?"
Loe gave a small, humorless laugh. "Do I look okay?"
Cristina shrugged. "You look like a mood. One I'm kind of scared of, but I still came over anyway."
Loe glanced sideways, just briefly.
"I saw you leave. You were fine one second, then poof—dramatic exit mid-song like we're in a teen drama," Cristina said gently. "I tried to keep Ana from following you. She was ready to bring tissues and snacks."
That got the tiniest smirk from Loe.
Cristina leaned back against the wall and looked up at the sky. "So... want to talk about it? Or do you want me to just sit here and make sarcastic commentary until you feel better?"
There was a pause.
Loe shook her head. "I don't even know what happened. I was fine. And then he said something, and I just... wasn't."
Cristina didn't press for names.
"I hate that he got to me," Loe said softly. "I hate that I let him."
Cristina hesitated, then nudged her playfully. "If it makes you feel any better, I once cried because my brother said I looked like a burrito in my blanket."
Loe blinked. "You're not helping."
"I'm absolutely helping."
Loe chuckled, the tension in her chest loosening just a bit.
"You don't have to explain," Cristina said. "But just know you don't have to be the tough one all the time, either. If someone upset you, I can throw hands."
Loe gave her a sideways look. "You weigh like ten pounds. What are you gonna do, aggressively compliment them?"
Cristina gasped. "I'll have you know my words cut deep."
They sat in silence for a few more seconds, until Cristina grinned and added, "Also, I may or may not have threatened Michael already. Cloe beat me to it though. She looked furious."
Loe blinked. "Cloe—what did she say?"
"Something about rearranging his face if he hurt you. I didn't hear all of it. I was distracted by how fast she stormed off."
Loe sighed but didn't look annoyed. Just... tired.
Cristina bumped her shoulder. "Come back inside when you're ready. We'll save you a snack. Or Ana will eat it and claim it was for your own good."
As Cristina stood and began to walk away, she paused and looked over her shoulder. "For what it's worth, whatever you're dealing with—you're not alone, okay?"
Loe didn't answer, but for the first time in the past fifteen minutes, her breathing felt less heavy.