POV: Claire
The air in the house was thick with music and alcohol. Yet here, in the bathroom, everything felt frozen, like the world had suddenly hit pause.
Avery had just shoved Jackson away with a violence that made all of us go cold. The distance between them had never looked so wide. And in that moment, I understood just how much everything had changed—between them, between all of us.
I rushed to her to help her stand. She wavered, her legs shaking under her own weight.
I slipped an arm around her waist, but Calvin got there first and took over, supporting her with that quiet assurance that was so him. He slid an arm under her shoulders, his face tense but worried.
Around us, a few partygoers had stopped, curious. Whispers rose, muffled by the music. I shot one of them a dark look—he immediately turned away.
Behind us, Jackson hadn't moved. Derrick had just arrived, and the two of them were talking in low voices, their postures tight. You couldn't make out the words, but the atmosphere said it all: Jackson wanted answers.
Outside, the cool night air slapped against our skin. The contrast with the suffocating atmosphere of the party sent a shiver through me. Avery looked barely conscious. Calvin guided her toward his old blue Jeep—his dad's old car. It was parked off to the side, under a flickering streetlamp that cast strange shadows across the bodywork.
"I'm driving," I said, taking the keys from him. "You're clearly not in the right headspace."
"I'm fine," he muttered, but he let me take them without insisting.
He helped Avery into the backseat. She curled up in a wrinkled blanket and fell asleep almost instantly.
The Jeep started, humming softly. The empty road stretched out under the streetlights like an endless hallway.
"You think she'll be okay?" I asked quietly.
Calvin didn't answer right away. He kept watching Avery through the rearview mirror. There was something almost childlike in the peacefulness of her face.
"She's stronger than she thinks," he finally said. "But… I think she's hiding something from us."
Our eyes met, and my stomach twisted. I'd had the same feeling for weeks.
Silence settled in. Avery's breathing grew heavier. Then Calvin's phone buzzed.
He glanced at the screen, hesitated, then picked up. His expression tightened slightly.
"Serena?" I said, not even waiting for him to hang up.
He ignored me. But once he ended the call, I couldn't help it.
"So? What did she want?"
"Who?"
"Your girlfriend," I said, dripping with irony.
He shot me a look.
"Could you stop for two seconds?"
"Stop what?"
"That little venomous tone you get. Every time you talk about her."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Yes, you do. You hate her."
"Like ninety-nine percent of the school, yeah."
He rolled his eyes.
"Serena isn't as horrible as you guys think."
"Oh, you're serious right now? She's manipulative, stuck-up, fake, mean—should I go on? She treats everyone like crap. And you're just there like, 'She's misunderstood'?"
"Because it's the truth, Claire. You only see the facade. I see something else. And that's enough for me."
"You're hopeless."
"And you're exhausting," he shot back, sharper than before.
"Maybe. But watching you with someone like her? It pisses me off. She treats you like her little pet, and you don't say a word!"
"Claire… She's dealing with stuff, okay? She's just protecting herself."
"Oh, so you're her therapist now?"
He exhaled, exasperated.
"You could at least try not to tear her apart every time."
"No, I can't. I care too much about you to watch you get eaten alive."
His jaw tightened.
"Claire…"
"It's true. And I'm not the only one who thinks so. But hey, like you said—your life."
The silence dropped again. We finally reached Avery's place. She was still asleep. Calvin carried her to her room, and I followed. The house was so quiet we could've heard a pin drop.
When he left, I stayed to change her and tuck her into bed.
As I laid the blanket over her, I noticed a picture frame lying face down on the nightstand.
I picked it up.
It was her and her dad. Both smiling.
A lump rose in my throat.
Mr. Greenne… He was so kind. The kind of dad anyone would dream of having.
A thought sliced through me:
if we hadn't fought that night, maybe they never would've had that accident.
A tear slid down my cheek. Avery stirred. Her arm fell off the bed. I gently placed it back.
And then—
a sudden heat, scorching and alive, spread through my hand. My heart jolted.
Images burst through my mind: flames, shadows, a forest drowned in mist… and a scream, raw, inhuman.
I yanked my hand back, gasping.
"Claire? You okay?" Calvin asked, reappearing in the doorway.
I nodded, unable to speak. My eyes locked on Avery. I knew I had just brushed against something far beyond me.
And deep inside, one cold certainty took hold:
whatever I had just glimpsed through her…
it wasn't good.