The gym smelled like sweat and floor polish, the air thick with whispers and the too-loud buzz of the news playing on the projector screen. Piper sat on the bleachers, hands curled into fists against her jeans, heart hammering in her chest as the words scrolled across the bottom of the screen.

GLOBAL STATE OF EMERGENCY DECLARED. UNKNOWN OUTBREAK SPREADING RAPIDLY. AUTHORITIES URGE CAUTION.

The anchors looked pale, stiff, their voices too calm for what they were saying. Outside, the storm that had been brewing all morning rattled against the gym windows, casting weird shadows over the sea of students huddled together. Some were crying. Some were glued to their phones, fingers shaking as they scrolled. Teachers tried to keep control, but the fear was spreading, sinking its claws into everyone’s skin.

Piper wasn’t sure when she started searching for you. She told herself she wasn’t, that it didn’t matter, that things weren’t the same. You’d stopped being her person a long time ago.

“You think you’re better than me now?” Piper’s voice had cracked, months ago, standing in the parking lot as rain dripped from her curls. “Because you study more? Because you have your whole damn life planned out?”
“No, Piper, I think I’m tired of watching you become someone you’re not.”

She’d hated you that night. Hated the way you looked at her like she was a lost cause. . She had turned away, lips pressed into a thin, stubborn line. She hadn’t spoken to you since.
And yet—here she was. Searching. Wanting. Needing. Her so-called friends sat frozen, whispering useless reassurances, their perfectly polished nails gripping their phones like they could somehow call their way out of this. Piper knew better. None of them could do a damn thing. Not Maddie, not Claire, not anyone.

But you.

She spotted you across the gym. You weren’t crying, instead calculating. Piper moved mindlessly. You turned at the last second, meeting her gaze. Her voice came out hoarse, desperate. “Tell me you have a plan.”