The final bell had long since stopped ringing, its metallic echo fading into the humid Mediterranean air, but Anna remained. She stood on the sun-bleached steps, staring at the looming brick façade of the international school as if trying to memorize every crack in the pavement.
Well That was fun.
Six years ago, she had arrived here as the "daughter of the help," a girl with chipped fingernails and a chip on her shoulder. The same girl who used to skip history to smoke behind the gym-the one who once ripped a locker door clean off its hinges in a fit of rage-was leaving today as a top-tier scholar.
Her dark curls were tied loosely at the back, a few wild strands escaping to frame a face that had grown sharp and confident. She carried herself like someone who had learned everything the hard way-and won anyway.
"Anna!"
She blinked, the memories of her turbulent freshman year dissolving as Allison jogged toward her, breathless and grinning.
Allison had changed the most. Gone was the quiet, sheltered "princess" who had been locked in a gilded bedroom. In her place stood someone composed and radiant-her long blonde hair catching the Spanish sun, her features more refined, her presence calm in a way that drew every eye in the courtyard without her even trying. She wore the uniform of the elite not as a shroud, but as armor.
"Time to go," Allison said, giving her a playful shove toward the waiting black car. "My parents are already checking their watches. You know how they get about the graduation dinner."
They had barely settled into the plush leather of the back seat when a sharp rap on the glass made them jump. Anna rolled the window down.
"Peter."
He leaned against the door, tall and slightly disheveled in his loosened tie, his boyish charm still intact despite the exhaustion of finals week. "I'll call you, okay? Every night."
Anna reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead before flicking it lightly. "I love you, Peter."
He laughed-but it didn't quite reach his eyes. He looked like a man watching a bird he knew he couldn't cage. He glanced past her, meeting Allison's gaze in the shadows of the car. "Take care of her, Ali. I'm going to miss her."
Allison gave a quiet nod as the car pulled away. Anna watched him through the side mirror until he became nothing more than a blur at the school gates. She let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.
"Damn... I can't believe we're actually out."
Allison shot her a look, half impressed, half annoyed. "Seriously, Anna? Top of the class-and you still had time to date half the school?"
Anna crossed her arms, a slow, cat-like smirk forming. "Basic psychology, Ali. Falling madly in love is an academic death sentence. It ruins focus."
Allison frowned. "So what? You weren't in love with them? With Peter?"
"Please," Anna said, winking. "I only date geniuses. It's called networking."
Allison stared at her for a second-then burst into laughter. Anna joined in, the two of them finally tasting the salt of the ocean and the scent of freedom.
------------------------------
The humid sun filtered through the ancient oak trees, casting dappled shadows as Devin stepped onto the porch.
He had grown taller, leaner-his features sharper now, his jawline like a blade. His expression was perpetually quiet, a mask he had perfected over years. There was something distant in the way he moved, as if part of him was always walking a beach three thousand miles away.
A sharp, rhythmic blast from a car horn shattered the quiet.
"Yo! You coming or what?"
Sam leaned out of the driver's seat of a silver BMW 325i. It was a sleek, understated German sedan-the kind of car that screamed "successful" without being loud about it. Despite both boys having their own vehicles sitting in their respective driveways, they had spent the last three years carpooling. It was their unspoken pact of brotherhood, a way to keep the world out for just a few minutes longer each morning.
Devin adjusted his bag and climbed into the passenger seat, the smell of expensive leather and Sam's citrus cologne hitting him.
"Morning," Sam said, shifting the car into gear.
"Hey," Devin replied.
Sam squinted at him as they pulled onto the main road. "You look like hell. Didn't sleep again?"
"I slept fine," Devin said-too quickly.
Sam raised an eyebrow but didn't push it. He knew Devin's nights were spent either staring at blueprints or writing letters he'd never dare to mail. He was about to accelerate when a figure stepped directly into their path, forcing Sam to slam on the brakes.
"Leaving without me? Harsh, boys. Truly harsh."
Cathy stood there, arms crossed over her chest. She had grown into a striking young woman, her long dark hair falling neatly over her shoulders, her eyes sharp with a quiet, dangerous confidence.
Without waiting for permission, she opened the back door and slid inside.
"What are you doing?" Sam asked, glancing at her in the rearview mirror. "You have your own car. A literal Mercedes is sitting in our driveway, Cathy."
"Yeah. But I like this one better," Cathy said casually, leaning back into the silver BMW's leather. "Better company."
Sam groaned. "You're impossible."
Cathy ignored her brother, leaning forward until her head appeared between the two front seats. Her eyes locked onto Devin's profile.
"Missed me?"
Devin kept his gaze fixed ahead on the marshland blurring past the window. "Hard to miss someone who never leaves, Cathy."
Cathy clicked her tongue, a smirk playing on her lips. "Cold. Always so cold. You'd think after all this time you'd catch a fever for me."
Sam snorted as he hit the gas. "Give it up, Cathy. The guy's allergic to girls. I've seen him turn down the head cheerleader and the homecoming queen in the same week."
"He's not allergic," Cathy said, her voice dropping into something sharper, more observational. She watched the way Devin's hand tightened on his backpack. "He's just gay."
Sam nearly choked, laughing so hard the car swerved slightly. "Oh man! Imagine the look on his Uncle's face!"
Devin said nothing. He didn't defend himself, and he didn't agree. He simply leaned back against the headrest, staring up at the pale blue sky through the windshield. He wasn't gay, and he wasn't allergic to girls. He was just occupied. His heart was a fortress, and the only person with the key was currently three thousand miles away, laughing in the back of a black car in Spain.