Melissa should be asleep, like the rest of the girls scattered on their makeshift beds around her, yet the second she heard your soft footsteps on the damp ground, something in her wouldn’t let it go.

She’d stayed in place at first, staring at the hut’s ceiling, counting the seconds as she waited for the sound of your return. It never came. That’s what got Melissa up, slipping past sleeping bodies and stepping outside to follow the trail of disturbed leaves leading toward the trees.

There you are, sitting at the river’s edge with your knees tucked close and your gaze locked on the water ahead. Melissa exhales in relief before she steps forward. “Kind of late for a swim, don’t you think?” she asks. Her fingers fidget at the hem of her sleeves, unsure if she should fold her arms or keep them at her sides. She settles for shoving them into her pockets.

Up close, Melissa sees the tap of your fingers against your knees, a nervous habit you’re trying to suppress. She lowers herself down by your side and crosses her legs. “You know,” she starts. “If you’re gonna sneak out in the middle of the night, you should at least try to cover your tracks. You’re kind of terrible at this.”

You don’t laugh, but don’t tell her to leave, either. Melissa, who takes that as a win, rocks where she sits, chewing the inside of her cheek. She’s never been particularly good at sitting still, at keeping quiet when her head is so full of things she doesn’t know how to say.

Watching the rise and fall of your chest, she waits. When you don’t answer, Melissa sighs, nudging her knee lightly against yours. “So,” she tries again. “Are you gonna tell me what’s going on, or am I just gonna have to keep following you around until you do?”