Chapter 17: quiet hours,loud Thoughts

The school day felt different.

Not quieter. Not kinder. Just heavier.

Derek noticed it the moment he stepped through the gates. Conversations slowed when he passed. Eyes lingered too long. Sympathy clung to him like humidity—thick, uncomfortable, impossible to ignore.

Some students whispered.

Others didn’t bother hiding it.

“That’s him,” someone murmured near the lockers.
“The kid whose family—”
“Dude, stop.”

Derek kept walking.

He always did.

His foster father’s words echoed in his head from that morning. You don’t owe anyone strength. Just don’t lie to yourself.

Easier said than done.

“Hey.”

Elara’s voice cut through the noise.

She stood by the stairwell, arms folded, backpack slung over one shoulder. Calm face. Sharp eyes. She didn’t look at him like he was fragile. Or broken. Or some tragic headline.

She just looked… normal.

“Morning,” Derek said.

“You alive?” she asked flatly.

He huffed a short laugh. “Barely. Math tried to kill me.”

“Yeah, well,” she said, turning and starting toward the hallway, “math kills everyone eventually. Come on.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere but here.”

He followed without arguing.

They ended up behind the old gym, sitting on the cracked concrete steps where teachers never patrolled and students only came to disappear. The air smelled like dust and metal. Quiet, but not empty.

Elara kicked her feet lightly. “So. You gonna pretend everything’s fine today or save that for tomorrow?”

Derek glanced at her. “You always this blunt?”

“Only with people I don’t want lying to me.”

That landed harder than she probably intended.

He looked down at his hands. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to act.”

“You don’t have to perform,” she said. “Just… exist.”

He let out a slow breath. “Everyone keeps staring like I might fall apart.”

“Will you?”

“I don’t plan to.”

She nodded. “Good. Because if you do, I’ll pretend I didn’t see it and roast you later.”

That earned a real smile.

They sat in silence for a moment.

Then she spoke again. “You ever notice how people love tragedy as long as it isn’t theirs?”

Derek’s jaw tightened. “Yeah.”

“They don’t want to help,” she continued. “They want to feel like good people for noticing.”

He glanced at her. “You’ve thought about this.”

“My dad’s obsessed with control,” she said casually. Too casually. “Sympathy is just another leash.”

Derek frowned. “That sounds… specific.”

She shrugged. “Families are weird.”

That was the first crack.

Not big. Not obvious. Just enough.

The bell rang. Neither of them moved.

“You skipping?” Derek asked.

“Probably,” she said. “You?”

“Already behind. Might as well make it official.”

They shared a look. Then stood.

Inside, the hallways buzzed. A few students approached Derek this time.

One girl hesitated before speaking. “Um… I’m sorry. About everything.”

“Thanks,” Derek replied evenly.

A guy from his science class gave an awkward nod. “If you need notes or something—”

“I’m good,” Derek said. Not rude. Just firm.

Elara watched all of it closely.

“You handle that better than most,” she said once they reached their lockers.

“Handling it doesn’t mean feeling it,” he replied.

She leaned against the metal. “You don’t have to explain yourself to anyone. Including me.”

He paused. Then said quietly, “I know.”

They walked to class together.

At lunch, they sat across from each other. No crowd. No audience.

Elara stabbed at her food. “So what do you do when everything goes quiet?”

Derek blinked. “What do you mean?”

“When there’s no chaos. No emergency. No one demanding something from you.” She met his eyes. “What fills the space?”

He didn’t answer right away.

“Training,” he said finally. “Thinking. Planning.”

“Always forward,” she noted.

“If I stop, things catch up.”

She studied him for a long moment. “You’re running from something.”

He smirked. “Aren’t we all?”

“Yeah,” she said. “But some of us pretend we’re chasing something instead.”

That one stuck.

After school, they walked part of the way together.

“You ever feel like you’re two people?” Elara asked suddenly.

Derek slowed. “How do you mean?”

“One version everyone sees. Another that only comes out when no one’s watching.”

His chest tightened.

“Sometimes,” he said carefully.

She nodded, eyes forward. “Same.”

They stopped at the corner where they’d split.

Elara adjusted her bag. “Hey, Derek.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad you didn’t push everyone away.”

He met her gaze. “I almost did.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No,” he said. “I didn’t.”

She smiled—small, genuine. “See you tomorrow.”

As she walked off, Derek stood there longer than necessary.

Something about her unsettled him.

Not in a bad way.

In a dangerous way.

She saw too much. Asked the right questions. Moved through the world like she was preparing for a war no one else knew was coming.

And somewhere, deep beneath layers of masks and lies, two forces were already moving toward each other.

Neither of them knew it yet.

But the pieces were aligning.

And friendship, as Derek was about to learn, could be the sharpest blade of all.