LOGINHAYLEY.
Just then Axel breaks into a boyish, handsome smile; one that reminds me of the boy I grew up with. And just like that, any hint of weirdness I felt moments ago vanish. “We brought wine,” he beams, holding up a bottle wrapped in brown paper with a neat little ribbon. “Thank you, Axel.” His smile deepens as I say his name, and I feel a rush of nostalgia wash over me. The next moment, his hands are open and I'm embraced in a soft hug. As I lean into him with my head brushing his chest, I can't help but admire how well puberty has shaped his upper body. He feels solid—strong. We walk into my house and greetings pass between Axel and my mom. When we all get seated across the diner, plates of mashed potatoes and chicken go around, one for each person. “I don't see your Dad,” Axel whispers as we tuck in our chairs. “Oh, he's working late. Sorry,” I offer with a sympathetic look. He shrugs it off with yet another disarming smile, and somehow, my insides flutter. Across the table, Lucas chews a chicken hungrily and I realize then that Axel and I are the only ones not eating yet. I pick a knife and fork and offer them to him, but he's too engrossed in the conversation between my mom and Mrs Martinez to notice. So I slip them into his hand instead. And just then, the weirdest thing happens. Axel bolts upright like he's been electrocuted. The fork and knife clatter from his hand and his plate crashes to the floor. When I glance up at him, his face is drained of color. He's shaken, like he's just seen a ghost. The table falls silent as my mom and Mrs Martinez's small conversation fades abruptly. Even Lucas stops mid-chew. Axel turns to my mom. “I'm sorry, Mrs Anderson…I didn't mean—” “Oh, no, dear, it's alright. We'll get it cleaned up,” my mom answers softly as she rises from her chair. “It's no problem at all,” she adds with a warm smile. As she heads to the kitchen, my mom flashes me a confused look that seems to ask “what did you do?”. But I'm just as surprised as she is. And right then, the strange feeling I had on the porch settles over me again—the same one I felt when I noticed Axel's eyes. I try to wave it off, mouthing a small “sorry” to him as I help clean up. He apologizes as well and we share a faint smile. When he's given another plate, Axel quietly declines using the fork and knife I offered earlier. Or any cutlery at all. Instead, he reaches out for a spoon: a rubber spoon. I choose not to dwell on it, even if the odd feeling I have still lingers. The rest of dinner goes on well, with lighthearted conversations and a few laughs in between. When it's time for them to head home, I offer to walk with them and my mom agrees. Truth is, I just want some alone time with Axel. As we step down the porch and onto the street, I turn to him. “I heard about your parents, Ax. It was awful and I can't imagine what you went through.” I reach out and take his hand, squeezing it gently. “I’m so sorry.” “Thank you,” he smiles warmly. He turns to me and for a split second, I find myself staring at my childhood crush again. “It's so good to see you again.” His hand tightens around mine and my heart skips a beat. Without thinking, I reach for his other hand. And right then I feel it—his palm is scorching hot. I immediately flip it over, and under the streetlamp, I see a large red scar etched into his palm, like a burn mark. It looks fresh. “Axel... what happened to you?” I blurt out immediately. “It's nothing,” he answers, pulling his hand away from mine quickly. His eyes shift to Lucas, who’s now at the door, waiting for him. Taking the hint, I know it’s time to end the night. I take a deep breath, trying to mask the worry still gnawing at me. “It's really good to see you too, Axel,” I say, offering him a small smile. He looks at me briefly, then glances down at the ground before meeting my eyes again. “Mrs Martinez says I'll be starting school tomorrow, so I guess we'll be seeing each other a lot.” He breaks into a full smile again. “Thanks, for tonight, Hayley. Goodnight.” He turns away and starts walking towards the house. “Night, Ax,” I call after him softly. He gives me one last wave before heading inside with Lucas. As I walk back to my place, my mind struggles to adjust to how different Axel seems. The green eyes, the strange preference for rubber utensils, and that scar... My thoughts grind to a sudden halt. I realize it now. The scarred palm—it’s the same one he dropped the utensils from. But there’s no way the knife and fork could have caused that. They barely even brushed against his hand. I try adamantly to convince myself that he must have had the scar before he arrived. And yet, as I climb the steps to my door, I can’t shake the feeling that there's more to what I saw. The scar was fresh, like it just happened. Like it was a reaction. To silver.NARRATIVE POV. As Sheriff McKenna’s car ground to a halt at the gates of Greystone High, he spotted two other vehicles parked by the curb, both bearing the insignia of the local police precinct. His team had arrived. He cut the engine, grabbed his shotgun, and stepped out into the cold night air. Deputy Morales stood a few steps away with a toothpick hanging from his lips—no doubt a remnant of the meal he’d been having when the call came in. He wore a grim expression as the Sheriff approached. McKenna strode past him, and the man quickly fell in step behind. “Don’t tell me it’s another murder, Jamie.” “I’m not sure pal,” McKenna replied. “But it sure as hell sounded serious.” The rest of their six-man team joined them as they passed through the gates, their eyes roaming over the festively decorated school grounds as they made their way toward the main building. “The school was hosting its annual Winter Formal tonight,” Detective Hannah read out from the file in her hand as sh
NARRATIVE POV. “Don’t tell me you’re still undecided on what to name her,” Maria said, raising an eyebrow at her husband with a teasing smile. Sheriff McKenna chuckled, lifting the bottle of wine in hand, and pouring until his glass was half full. He set the bottle down and walked over to where his wife stood at the kitchen counter. “Don’t tell me you’ve already decided it’s a her,” he replied, grinning as he brushed a strand of her hair aside with his free hand. “Oh, it’s definitely a her,” she muttered, her tone softening as her hand rested on the gentle curve of her belly. She looked up at her husband, their smiles meeting, before she pulled him in for a slow, tender kiss. “Feel her,” she whispered when they parted. McKenna set the wineglass aside and placed both hands on his wife's belly. His fingers moved slowly over the bulge, tracing every stretch of vein, every faint outline of muscle. Somewhere beneath all of it was their child—the miracle they had waited five long yea
HAYLEY. In the faint glow of the surrounding lights, I watch Axel’s face go pale as his eyes lock on the figure behind us—Mr. Miller. He’s standing at the far end of the grounds, casually conversing with Principal Hawthorne. When Axel turns back to me, his grip on my hands tightens. “Give me a moment. I’ve gotta tip Shane off.” I nod silently and watch him step aside, pulling out his cell as he makes the call in a low voice. My gaze settles on Mr. Miller again, and a knot of unease coils in my stomach. He can’t be here. He shouldn’t be here. If what we suspect about him is true, then his presence here—on the night of a full moon—could spell danger. A sudden announcement blares through the speakers lining the outer walls: “All students and attendees, kindly make your way into the building for the ball.” Axel returns, slipping his phone into his pocket. “The boys are on their way.” He cups my elbows gently, his touch grounding. “I won’t let anything happen tonight. Promise.” I
HAYLEY. I watch Axel gulp as my dad’s intense gaze rakes over him. “Axel Grey?” he says after a moment. “It’s you, isn’t it?” Axel clears his throat, still visibly rattled by his sudden appearance. “Yes, sir. It’s me.” “Well, well—quite the man you’ve become, haven’t you?” Dad says with a grin, extending a hand toward him. “Thank you, Mr. Anderson,” Axel replies, offering a faint smile as he takes my father’s hand. “I was going to see you after the game last week,” he blurts, almost like he can’t stop himself. “But I, uh… got carried away. With stuff, sir.” “Ah, it’s alright, boy,” Dad beams. Then he turns to me. “Hayley’s told me all about how brilliant you were in tryouts for the school's team.” My cheeks flush a deep red and I frown at him, mouthing a silent warning. But he just grins at me and steps back a few paces. “Well, I’ve got the car engine running, so I’d suggest you both head down in five if I’m dropping you at school.” He turns toward the door, one
HAYLEY. “You’re so getting laid tonight. You know that, right?” My expression in the mirror is one of stunned amusement at Corey's teasing. I try to come up with a response to her, but all that escapes me is a muffled chuckle. I can practically see her smug grin through the phone. “I mean, come on—we both know you need it at this point,” she adds. “Just saying.” I fight to keep my face straight as I continue dabbing my makeup, pretending to be annoyed. “That is so disgusting, Corey.” “It won’t be after a few drinks tonight. Trust me.” I can't help the laughter that slips from my lips, and I hear her giggle on the other end. It’s the night of the Winter Formal, and Corey’s excitement at us both going has been nothing short of infectious. I set my make-up brush down and pick up the cherry-colored lipstick beside it. “So, you’re really going in with no date?” I ask Corey for the umpteenth time. “Ugh,” she groans. “I mean, we’re not at the event yet, right?” she mu
HAYLEY. The Winter Formal is only two days away, and the entire school is simmering with anticipation. Our hallway walls are smothered in cheesy decorations that flaunt themed messages—like the wall to my left, where there's a giant sticker of a glittering ballroom, taped over with colored balloons and the words: “Greystone High’s Winter Formal: Be There!” I certainly won’t be. Unless, of course, Corey decides to drag me there by the hair, which honestly, wouldn’t surprise me at this point. She’s been the epitome of persuasion all week, insisting we attend the ball for just once. But social events still give me the ick, especially after surviving that disaster of a party at Rakim’s. And then there’s the teeny-tiny issue of not having a date. As if sensing my thoughts, a black-and-gold banner ahead reads: “Come with the one you love!” If I didn’t know better, I’d swear Corey put that one up herself just to mess with me. I make my way to the school’s props room, where a handful







