The bell stopped ringing, and then there was silence.
No chatter, no slamming lockers, no footsteps on the concrete.
Nova stood at the entrance of Building B, just outside the double doors, waiting for the usual noise to begin. It didn't. The school was quiet, as if someone had thrown a wool blanket over the entire courtyard.
She reached for the door handle, but the metal was hot. Not sun-warmed, just hot. Too hot to hold. She flinched and pulled down her sleeve, gripping it through the fabric.
Inside, the hallway lights flickered once, then steadied. Rows of lockers lined the walls like pale blue teeth, and the air smelled like melted plastic and floor wax. Someone had taped a "Welcome Back, Wolves!" banner above the front office door, but the "W" had fallen off.
Nova stepped inside, letting the door swing shut behind her. The sound of it closing startled her.
A group of students walked by, their faces familiar, but their voices sounded muted. They moved in sync, almost like extras in a low-budget movie. One girl, maybe Emma Ortega, looked right at her as she passed, her eyes dull and unfocused, then continued on without a word.
Nova turned to watch her walk away. Emma's footsteps didn't echo.
She stood still for a moment, breathing slowly and counting the fluorescent lights above. Every third one buzzed louder than the others.
Then something changed.
A shadow crossed her path from the far end of the hall. At first, it was just a flicker, then it became a figure.
Someone tall, someone still.
He stood by the last classroom window. He wasn't moving. He was watching her.
Nova blinked. The distance made it hard to see his features, but she could tell he wasn't familiar. Not from school, not from town. His clothes looked normal. Jeans, a white shirt. But they fit him strangely, as if he hadn't gotten used to wearing them yet.
The boy tilted his head slightly.
Nova glanced around. No one else reacted.
She turned back. He was still watching her.
Then, he smiled.
Not wide, just a small movement at the edge of his mouth. It didn't seem mocking or friendly.
It felt like a memory trying to surface.
The lights buzzed louder.
Nova tightened her grip on her backpack strap. She took one step forward.
The boy raised a hand—not to wave, just to acknowledge her. It was like he had been waiting for her to notice. Then he turned and walked away.
Nova stood frozen until the second bell rang, sharp and short, like usual.
She didn't move. Not yet. The hallway came to life behind her—chatter, doors opening, laughter from somewhere distant.
But the spot where the boy had been stayed empty.
She didn't realize she was holding her breath until her ribs began to ache.