18 - The Fire

Nova's POV

The library was quiet.

I sat in a secluded corner, my laptop open, my focus locked. The afternoon light filtered through the windows, casting long shadows across the tables. Students were scattered around the room, but nobody was near me. Nobody could see what I was looking at.

I'd been searching for hours.

Lydia. That was the name. The girl who transferred out two years ago. The one Priya was too scared to talk about.

I'd started with the school archives. Old yearbooks. Newsletters. Anything I could find. Most of it was useless. But then I found something.

An article in a local online newspaper. Dated two years ago.

Crestwood Academy Student Hospitalized After Laboratory Fire

I clicked on it.

The article was short. Just a few paragraphs. But the details were there.

A student named Lydia Sinclair had been involved in a fire in the school laboratory. According to the report, she had a disagreement with another student. In retaliation, she decided to set the lab on fire. But something went wrong. The laboratory door locked behind her. She was trapped inside.

She was burned.

The article didn't say how badly, but it said it affected her face. It didn't say which student she'd argued with. It didn't say anything about the investigation.

But there was a photo. A school photo. A girl with dark hair and a shy smile.

Her face was unmarked in the photo.

I stared at the screen. A fire. A girl trapped. Her face burned. Then she disappeared.

I imagined it. The flames. The smoke. The door locked behind her. The screaming. The fear.

And then I imagined someone outside. Someone who knew the door would lock. Someone who wanted her to burn.

Harper.

I didn't have proof yet. But I knew the pattern. The same quiet destruction. The same ability to make people vanish. And if there was anything I'd learned during this period, it is to not believe everything I read on the news.

Lydia Sinclair had been erased from Crestwood Academy. Nobody talked about her. Nobody remembered her. She was just gone.

I was about to dig deeper when I heard footsteps.

"Hey, babe."

I jerked. My hands slammed the laptop shut. I looked up.

Ryker was standing over me. He was smiling, that stupid boyish smile that made my heart race. He leaned down and kissed my cheek.

"What the heck?!" I pushed him back. "You startled me."

"Sorry." He didn't look sorry. "Didn't mean to."

He sat down across from me. His eyes dropped to my closed laptop.

"So," he said. "What are you up to?"

"Nothing."

"That's not nothing. You looked like you were about to commit a crime."

I felt my face flush. "It's none of your business."

"Ouch." He pressed a hand to his chest. "I'm your boyfriend. We share everything now."

"You're my fake boyfriend. There's a difference."

He leaned back in his chair. His eyes were still on my laptop.

"Fine," he said. "Keep your secrets."

I opened my mouth to say something but I decided against it immediately. He was right.

"Let's start your tutoring session," I said instead.

"Such a kill joy."

He pulled out his books. His eyes lingered on my laptop for just a moment longer. Then he opened his textbook.

I opened my laptop again. But I turned it away from him. I kept the screen angled toward the wall.

"Chapter four," I said. "Start reading."

He groaned. "Can't we do something fun? Like a quiz or something?"

"Reading is fun."

"For you maybe. For normal people, it's torture."

I ignored him. I pulled up the source material for his class and started making notes. But my mind was still on the screen. On Lydia Sinclair. On the fire. On the girl whose face was burned.

I typed Lydia's name into the search bar again. This time, I used a different engine. One that dug deeper.

Nothing.

I tried variations. Lydia Sinclair Crestwood Academy. Lydia Sinclair fire. Lydia Sinclair burns.

Nothing.

It was like she'd been erased.

I felt a cold shiver run down my spine. The same thing had happened to Lily. The same quiet erasure. The same people pretending nothing had happened.

"Hey." Ryker's voice cut through my thoughts. "You okay?"

I looked up. He was watching me. His expression was softer now. Less teasing.

"Yeah," I said. "Fine."

"You don't look fine. You look like you've seen a ghost."

I forced a smile. "I'm fine. Just tired."

He didn't look convinced. But he didn't push.

"Alright," he said. "But if you need to talk about something—"

"I don't."

"Okay."

He turned back to his book. I watched him read. His brow was furrowed. He was actually trying. He must really love hockey.

I felt something shift in my chest. Something I didn't want to name.

I looked away.

"Read the next section," I said. "I'll quiz you in ten minutes."

He sighed. "Yes, ma'am."

I turned back to my laptop. I closed the search window. I opened the study materials for his class again.

This time, I forced myself to focus.

But I couldn't get Lydia Sinclair out of my mind.