Finnian's alarm went off at 6:30 AM, but he'd been awake for hours, staring at the ceiling and replaying yesterday's events. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw those predatory eyes.
He dragged himself through his morning routine like a zombie, barely registering his mother's concerned questions about his pale complexion and the dark circles under his eyes. The pancakes she made tasted like cardboard, and even her cheerful humming couldn't penetrate the fog of unease that had settled over him.
"You sure you're feeling alright for school?" Mrs. Ravenswood asked, pressing the back of her hand against his forehead. "You don't have a fever, but you look exhausted."
"I'm fine, Mom. Just didn't sleep well."
She frowned but didn't press the issue. "Well, try to have a good day. And Finn?" She caught his arm as he headed for the door. "If you keep having those... episodes... maybe we should talk to Dr. Martinez about it."
"Episodes?" The word stung more than it should have.
"You know what I mean. The stress, the hallucinations. There's no shame in getting help if you need it."
Finnian forced a smile. "I told you, it was just my imagination. I'm fine."
But as he biked to school, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was anything but fine.
---
Westfield High was buzzing with its usual morning chaos when Finnian arrived. Students clustered around lockers, chattering about weekend plans and upcoming tests. The familiar sights and sounds should have been comforting, but today they felt distant, like he was watching everything through glass.
He found David and Maya at their usual spot by the science building, both looking relieved to see him.
"There you are," Maya said, adjusting her backpack. "You look terrible."
"Thanks, that's exactly what I needed to hear."
David studied his face with concern. "Seriously, man, did you sleep at all last night? You look like you've seen a ghost."
*Or a monster,* Finnian thought, but he kept that to himself. "Just couldn't turn my brain off. You know how it is."
"Still thinking about yesterday?" Maya's voice was gentle, but there was an undertone of worry that made Finnian's chest tighten.
"I'm fine," he said automatically. "Can we just... talk about something else?"
His friends exchanged one of their looks—the kind that said they were having an entire conversation without words. Finnian hated those looks. They made him feel like an outsider in his own friend group.
"Actually," David said carefully, "there's something you should probably know. About yesterday, I mean."
Finnian's stomach dropped. "What about it?"
"Well, after you left, a few of us were talking with that new guy—Kieran. Turns out he's not just new to the dojo." David paused, glancing at Maya. "He's transferring to our school too. Starting today, actually."
The world seemed to tilt sideways. "What?"
"I know, crazy coincidence, right?" Maya said, but her smile looked forced. "He'll probably be in some of our classes. Maybe you two can start fresh, you know? Put yesterday behind you."
Finnian couldn't breathe. The hallway suddenly felt too crowded, too loud, too small. Kieran was here. In his school. In his safe space.
"Finn?" David's voice sounded far away. "You okay? You just went completely white."
"I... I need to get to class," Finnian managed, backing away from his friends.
"But the bell hasn't—"
"I'll see you guys later."
He turned and pushed through the crowd of students, ignoring Maya calling his name. He needed space to think, to process what this meant. Kieran showing up at his school the day after their encounter couldn't be a coincidence. It had to be connected somehow to whatever he'd seen in that dojo.
But as he rounded the corner toward his first period classroom, he stopped dead in his tracks.
There, standing at the main office reception desk with a schedule in his hand, was Kieran.
The pale student looked exactly as he had yesterday—sharp features, dark hair falling across his forehead, that same unsettling intensity in his eyes. He was dressed in the standard khakis and polo shirt that passed for Westfield High's dress code, looking like any other transfer student getting oriented on his first day.
Except for the way he turned, as if sensing Finnian's presence, and smiled.
That same too-wide smile that revealed just a hint of too many teeth.
Finnian stumbled backward, his heart hammering against his ribs. But when he blinked, Kieran looked normal again—just a teenager with a polite expression, listening as the secretary explained the school's layout.
*You're losing it,* Finnian told himself. *You're actually losing your mind.*
He forced himself to walk past the office, keeping his eyes straight ahead. But he could feel Kieran watching him, could practically feel that amused smile burning into his back.
——
First period was AP English with Mrs. Henderson, normally one of Finnian's favorite classes. But today he couldn't concentrate on anything she was saying about symbolism in *The Great Gatsby*. His eyes kept drifting to the door, waiting for it to open, waiting for—
*Knock knock.*
Mrs. Henderson paused mid-sentence as the classroom door opened. The guidance counselor, Mr. Walsh, stepped inside with a familiar figure trailing behind him.
"Sorry to interrupt," Mr. Walsh said cheerfully. "We have a new student joining us today. This is Kieran Blackwood."
Finnian's blood turned to ice. The surname was different from what he'd heard at the dojo, but the face was unmistakable.
"Kieran just transferred here from... where was it again?" Mr. Walsh consulted his clipboard.
"Up north," Kieran replied, his voice soft and pleasant. "Small town. You probably wouldn't know it."
"Well, we're happy to have you. Mrs. Henderson, could you find him a seat?"
"Of course." Mrs. Henderson scanned the classroom, her gaze settling on the empty desk directly behind Finnian. "There's an open spot right there, Mr. Blackwood."
*No,* Finnian thought desperately. *Anywhere but there.*
But Kieran was already walking down the aisle, his footsteps silent on the linoleum floor. He slid into the seat behind Finnian with fluid grace, and suddenly the temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.
"Well then," Mrs. Henderson said, apparently oblivious to Finnian's distress. "Where were we? Ah yes, the symbolism of the green light..."