7. Strange

IVORY'S POV

I just wished they’d all let me be.

With trembling hands, I dusted myself off, the remnants of the apple fritter crushed beneath my shoes, my broken glasses tucked into my pocket like a badge of survival. My fingers grazed the fresh bruise swelling near my cheekbone, and I hissed quietly, the sting a harsh reminder of Stella’s wrath. The sharp scent of her expensive perfume still clung to me like a ghost I couldn’t shake.

I picked up my warmer and scattered notes, shoving them back into my bag before leaving the shade of the frangipani trees. I didn't glance around, didn’t care to see if anyone watched. Let them watch. Let them whisper. I was past caring. My feet dragged a little as I made my way toward the infirmary. I didn’t know if it was from the bruises or the weight of everything else, but either way, each step felt like it carved more cracks into my spirit.

By the time I reached the infirmary door, the hallways were nearly silent, echoing with only the distant squeaks of shoes and the faint clang of lockers. I hesitated at the threshold. The last time I was here, I had carelessly forgotten the suits Alicia left. Now, I stood there looking like I had just walked through hell—puffy cheeks, disheveled pigtails, and no glasses.

I pushed the door open.

Doctor Lana sat behind her desk, wearing her round glasses, her nose buried deep in a thick hardcover medical text. Her dark, braided hair was tied neatly at the nape of her neck, and there was a steaming cup of tea beside her elbow.

She didn’t look up at first, and for a moment, I debated turning back. But just as I took a step backward, her eyes lifted.

She looked straight at me.

And she didn’t scowl. She didn’t frown. She didn’t even raise an eyebrow.

Instead, she looked at me as if she'd been expecting me all along.

“Good afternoon,” I greeted softly, my voice still shaky from everything. “I… I came here because I think I forgot something the last time I was here.”

She tilted her head slightly, then reached under her desk.

“Looking for this?” she asked, pulling out a neat bag and offering it to me.

I blinked in surprise and took it. The second I unzipped it, my breath hitched.

Inside were the suits—folded and pressed. Not just the ones I left, but all of them. Cleaned. Perfect.

“How…?” I paused because if I didn't, I would stammer so badly.

“Let’s just say Alicia’s clumsy habit of misplacing things finally paid off,” she replied with a small smile, as though she knew more than she let on.

Then her eyes scanned my face, and I instantly tensed. Her gaze settled on my cheek, and her lips thinned. She didn’t ask what happened.

“Looks like we’ve got another hit,” she murmured, rising from her chair. She crossed the room silently and opened a cabinet, pulling out a small tin. “Hold still.”

I didn’t argue.

Her hands were gentle as she dabbed a cooling balm across the sore skin. The silence was oddly comforting—no judgment, no pity. Just care.

“You know,” she said suddenly, her voice calm but firm, “there’s a storm in you. You just haven’t figured out how to use it yet.”

I looked up at her in confusion, meeting her sharp brown eyes.

“Learn to defend yourself, Ivory. Not just with your fists, but with your voice. With your choices. You’re not weak,” she said, capping the balm. “You’re just… too kind. That’s not a flaw. But don’t let the world crush it out of you.”

Her hand landed softly on my shoulder. “You’re meant for greater things,” she added, her tone distant, almost wistful, like she could see something in me I didn’t yet know existed.

And then, just like that, she walked past me and disappeared into her office, the door clicking softly shut behind her.

I stood there frozen, her words ringing in my ears like a distant bell.

Meant for greater things.

What did she mean by that?

No one had ever said something like that to me before. Not even Alicia. Most people barely remembered I existed. But somehow… Lana knew. Somehow, she saw the tears I never cried. The strength I hadn’t found yet. The storm I didn’t even know I carried.

I stayed there for a moment longer, clutching the bag to my chest.

Then, just as I turned to leave—

“Hey… Nerd?”

I froze.

Slowly, I turned toward the door, and there he was—Daniel. Leaning against the frame like he had all the time in the world, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his black hoodie, his dark eyes scanning me. His usual stoic mask was gone, replaced by something I couldn’t place—concern? Curiosity?

“You alright?” he asked quietly.

I nodded. Then shook my head.

“I don’t know.”

He didn’t say anything. Just stepped inside and walked over until we were a foot apart.

He held out a hand.

“Give me your bag.”

“What? Why?”

“Because your shoulders are trembling and I don’t feel like pretending I don’t notice it.”

I hesitated, heart pounding, but gave it to him.

He swung it over his shoulder without a word, then gestured toward the door.

“Let’s go.”

I blinked at him. “To where?”

“I don’t know. Somewhere they won’t find you.”

My breath caught in my throat. For a moment, I forgot how to move. But then I followed him, matching his pace as we left the infirmary behind.

I didn’t know where we were going.

But maybe—for once—I didn’t need to.

Maybe I just needed someone who saw me. Someone who didn’t ask me to explain.

And for now, Daniel was that person.

And that… was enough.