2. Talk

The next day, the first thing Freen noticed was that Becky Armstrong wasn't at lunch. Her gaze lingered on the empty table across the cafeteria.

"You're staring," Nam teased with a giggle.

"Oh, sorry." Freen mumbled, quickly averting her eyes. "I don't even know why I keep looking over there."

Nam smirked knowingly. "They're a group of hot people. It's natural."

Heng laughed. "Agreed. But don't bother. Billy and Becky are the only ones available, and neither of them date."

"I'm not interested," Freen replied, her tone sharper than intended. "It doesn't matter."

But it did matter. Freen didn't care about the rest of the Armstrongs, but Becky's absence gnawed at her thoughts. Was it because of her?

Becky didn't return to school for two weeks. Freen's paranoia grew with each passing day, a small but insistent voice whispering that she'd driven Becky away.

When Becky finally appeared on a rainy Friday, Freen's heart stumbled. She entered biology class cautiously, hoping for another empty seat. There wasn't one. With no other choice, she sat beside Becky again.

To Freen's surprise, Becky seemed... different. Still tense, but not as bristly as before.

"Hello," a voice like velvet murmured beside her.

Freen blinked, startled. Becky Armstrong was speaking to her?

"I didn't have a chance to introduce myself last time," Becky said, her smile soft and disarming. "I'm Becky Armstrong. You must be Freen."

Freen nodded, her mind racing to keep up. "Yeah, that's me."

As class started, they reviewed mitosis, a topic Freen knew far too well. She glanced at the microscope, barely needing a moment to identify the slide.

"Anaphase," she muttered, more to herself than anyone else.

Becky looked at her, surprised. "Can I check?"

"Be my guest." Freen slid the microscope toward her. Becky peered into it, her movements as precise as her words.

"Anaphase," Becky agreed, her voice carrying a quiet certainty.

Freen raised an eyebrow, impressed despite herself. At least the frustrating blonde wasn't clueless. Becky matched Freen's pace for the rest of the class, both of them far ahead of their peers.

"Were you in advanced classes at your old school?" Becky asked suddenly, her tone casual but curious.

Freen glanced at her, startled by the question. Becky's reputation as quiet and distant didn't seem to align with the person beside her now. "Yeah, I was."

Becky nodded, as though filing the information away. An awkward silence stretched between them, broken only by the muffled bickering of their classmates.

Freen tried to distract herself, but her gaze kept drifting toward Becky. It wasn't just her presence that was unsettling—it was her eyes. They were no longer the vivid green Freen remembered. Now, they shimmered gold, warm and mesmerizing.

"Did you get contacts?" The question slipped out before Freen could stop herself.

Becky blinked, momentarily puzzled. "No."

Freen frowned. She was sure Becky was lying. Those weren't the same eyes that had stared her down two weeks ago.

"Are you settling in well?" Becky asked, changing the subject with practiced ease.

"It's fine, I guess. Except for the weather," Freen admitted. "I don't hate the rain, but the clouds... I miss the sun."

Becky tilted her head, as though considering this. "Camden must be a difficult place for you to live, then."

"Not really. I've made a few friends. It's not terrible."

Becky's smile returned, faint but curious, as if Freen's words amused her. "Why did you move here?"

Freen hesitated, her eyes dropping to her desk. "It's... complicated."

"I can keep up," Becky pressed, though her tone was gentle.

Freen made the mistake of meeting her gaze. For a moment, all she could see was green—vivid, piercing, and impossible to look away from. Before she could stop herself, she answered.

"My dad passed away."

Becky's expression shifted, her brows furrowing—not in pity, but in something that looked like understanding. "I'm sorry."

Freen shrugged, uncomfortable with the attention.

"And your mother forced you to come up here?" Becky asked.

"No," Freen said firmly. "I chose to come with her."

"I don't understand." Becky sounded almost frustrated. "If you miss the sun so much, why come here?"

"It's not about me." Freen's voice softened. "Mum needed this. She was... sad. She needed a change of scenery. And she's all I've got."

Becky studied her, her expression unreadable. "That doesn't seem very fair to you."

Freen swallowed hard, the familiar weight of frustration rising. "Life isn't fair," she said, her voice low. "I've learned that the hard way."

Becky's lips quirked in a wry smile. "I think I've heard that somewhere."

Freen tilted her head, studying Becky in return.

"You're not exactly carefree yourself. Am I wrong?"

Freen hesitated, her gaze flickering away for a moment. "Why does it matter to you?"

"That's a very good question," Becky muttered, almost too quietly for Freen to hear.

When the bell rang, Becky was out of her seat in an instant, her movements fluid and deliberate. Freen watched her leave, her thoughts a tangle of confusion and curiosity.

After school, the rain had eased to a light mist. Freen scanned the parking lot, relieved to find it mostly empty—until she saw the still figure leaning against a car three spaces down.

Becky Armstrong stood by a sleek Volvo, her golden gaze locked on Freen. She didn't move, didn't wave, just watched.

Freen quickly looked away, her pulse quickening as she backed out of the parking spot.

But she could still feel those eyes on her, even as she drove away.

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