The next week at Ridgewood High passed with the heavy drag of late summer heat, but inside the art club room, it was always calm—almost frozen in time. The air smelled faintly of graphite, old paint, and eucalyptus from an air freshener someone left behind last semester. A single fan hummed in the corner, stirring up Yasmine's sketchbook pages as she sat near the back window, pencil dancing across the paper.
Amaya pushed the door open with her usual burst of energy.
"There you are! You just sneak off after class like a ghost," she said, plopping her bag onto the dusty table beside Yasmine. "I had to ask two teachers and Lacey just to figure out you joined the art club."
Yasmine didn't look up right away. She was outlining the edge of a figure seated on a bench—head down, hands tucked into pockets.
"You're early," Yasmine murmured.
"Nope, you're just always here before anyone else," Amaya replied, grinning. She leaned over slightly. "Whoa. That's the same bench from your last drawing, right?"
Yasmine nodded.
"It's beautiful. I mean, the way you shade it? It feels lonely—but not sad. More like… peaceful. Do you draw from memory?"
"Sometimes," Yasmine said. "Sometimes I just imagine it."
Amaya rested her chin on her hand. "Do you draw people?"
Yasmine hesitated.
"Not usually," she answered softly. "People don't stay still long enough."
Amaya smiled. "You haven't met me yet. I can sit still for hours if you give me snacks."
That earned the smallest flicker of a smile from Yasmine—a twitch of the corner of her mouth, so subtle it could've been imagined.
Later That Week – Lunch Break
The cafeteria was its usual jungle of noise—metal trays clattering, kids laughing too loudly, someone FaceTiming their cousin from a lunch line, for some reason. Amaya sat beside Kai, their trays untouched.
"You've been kinda quiet lately," he said between sips of Gatorade.
"Just tired," Amaya replied, eyes flicking toward the entrance.
Kai glanced in the same direction. "You mean the new girl?"
Amaya blinked. "What?"
"You've been staring at her since she walked in."
"I haven't—"
Kai shrugged. "It's cool. She's got that weird quiet vibe. Like a spy in a teen movie."
Amaya forced a laugh. "She's just... interesting."
Kai's gaze lingered on her a moment longer, then dropped back to his tray. "So is it art club now every afternoon?"
"Yeah. Yasmine's the only one who really shows up. It's kinda nice."
"Hm." His answer was short. Noncommittal. And for the first time, Amaya noticed how he didn't even ask what they talked about.
After School – Art Club Room
It had become a habit now.
Amaya sat on the windowsill, scrolling through her phone, while Yasmine sketched. Sometimes Amaya rambled about teachers, sometimes about random dreams, sometimes about how her mom never let her stay out past ten.
Yasmine would nod occasionally, sometimes pause to sharpen her pencil, but she never seemed annoyed. Just... quietly present.
"Can I ask something?" Amaya said one afternoon, her voice softer than usual.
Yasmine looked up.
"Why don't you hang out with anyone else? I mean, people obviously notice you. You've got that mysterious vibe. It's like... people want to know you, but you don't let them."
Yasmine was silent for a moment, her hand still resting on her sketchpad.
"Because the more people you know," she said slowly, "the easier it is to lose pieces of yourself."
Amaya frowned. "That's kind of sad."
"It's the truth."
Amaya tilted her head. "Maybe. But maybe it depends on the people."
Yasmine met her gaze. "Maybe."
Yasmine's POV – Surveillance
Yasmine leaned against the metal railing of the school's upper stairwell, overlooking the basketball court. Kai Donner was there—shirt damp with sweat, laughing with teammates. He was sharp, focused, and loud. Very different from the quiet girl he was dating.
She watched his movements carefully. Patterns. His reactions. The way he instinctively scanned the court before making a move. His reflexes were impressive.
She made mental notes:
Weekday practice: 4:30–6:30 PMAlways exits via rear gym doorsOccasionally walks home with Amaya
A good killer didn't just look for weakness. They learned the rhythm of their target's life.
She turned away from the railing, pulled out her phone, and opened a secure app. One unread message.
Time limit approaching. You are 13 days behind schedule. Failure is not tolerated.
She closed the app. Her reflection in the stairwell window stared back at her, unreadable.
Saturday – Cuppa Raven
"Try this," Amaya said, handing Yasmine a cup with whipped cream practically spilling over the lid. "Caramel matcha cream float. Best thing on the menu. No take-backs."
Yasmine raised an eyebrow but took the drink. She took one sip and blinked.
"…That's very sweet."
"I know! Like, hurt-your-teeth sweet."
"I'll need water after this."
Amaya laughed and leaned her head against the windowpane, watching the street traffic outside. Her reflection, overlapping with Yasmine's, caught her off-guard. For a split second, she imagined reaching out, brushing her fingers against Yasmine's cheek.
She shook the thought off and took a long sip of her latte.
"You ever fall for someone you weren't supposed to?" she asked.
Yasmine looked at her, eyes calm. "Like... forbidden love?"
"No," Amaya said quickly, flustered. "Not like, Romeo-and-Juliet forbidden. Just... complicated. Messy. Stupid."
"Yeah," Yasmine said after a long pause. "I have."
Their eyes met again. But neither said anything more.
Later That Night – Yasmine's Apartment
In her small, sparsely decorated room, Yasmine sat at her desk, flipping through sketches. One in particular caught her attention—a rough outline of a girl with curly hair and soft eyes, sitting on a windowsill.
She stared at it for a long time. Then crumpled the page and tossed it into the waste bin.
She reached for her burner phone. This time, she dialed.
The voice on the other end answered immediately. "Status?"
"Delay," Yasmine said. "He's aware of being watched."
A pause. "Are you compromised?"
Yasmine's eyes narrowed. "No."
"Then complete the mission. No more stalling. We're watching."
The line clicked dead.
Yasmine sat in the silence, heart steady. But deep in her chest, something shifted.
She reached down and pulled the sketch from the trash. Smoothed it flat. Looked at Amaya's penciled smile—and for the first time, wondered what the cost of failure might feel like.