You weren’t supposed to be her friend.

That was rule number one.

You were only a year older than Rue Bennett, which already made things complicated. Too close in age. Too similar in energy. Too easy to blur lines that were supposed to stay solid.

Sponsor-in-training. That’s what they called you.

Detached. Stable. Reliable.

At least on paper.

Rue slouched beside you on the church basement steps, hoodie pulled up, arms wrapped around her knees. She hadn’t said a word in five minutes, which meant she was thinking too much—or not at all.

“You don’t have to sit here,” she muttered finally. “I’m not exactly inspirational today.”

You kept your eyes forward. “I’m not here to be inspired.”

She snorted. “Good. I’d hate to disappoint.”