"Go to class, Almasi."
I pouted like a kicked puppy, but Aiden had already turned away, not sparing me another glance as he made for the door. Heartless.
I trailed after him, dragging my feet like a rejected cartoon character, when something hit me square in the brain.
"Oh—yeah! Aiden!" I called out.
"Hm?" he replied, not even turning, halfway across the room now.
"Do you… have any idea what happened to Angela?"
That stopped him.
He turned slightly, gaze sharp over his shoulder. "Who's asking?"
Okay. Weird tone.
That hit me like a splash of cold water. Still, I pushed forward.
"I dunno," I said, shifting awkwardly. "I'm just… kinda worried."
Aiden raised an eyebrow. "Hmm. And all this time I thought you were only into guys."
"What?" I choked. "Dude! You think I like her? I barely remember what she looks like!"
He tilted his head, still unreadable. "Then why do you care?"
"Because," I started, then sighed. "Earlier I overheard some girls talking—saying it was my fault. And then I found out her case is, like, pretty serious and—"
"What girls?" he cut in, frowning now.
"I don't know," I admitted. "Didn't really look at them properly. But that's not even the point."
Aiden folded his arms. His eyes were calm, but something behind them felt… tense.
"So what is the point, Isaaq?"
I scratched the back of my neck, trying not to shrink under his stare. "Well… you're the vice president. I figured maybe you could find out where she is. I just… I feel like I need to talk to her. You know. Clear the air."
He repeated my words like they had a weird taste.
"You want to talk to her."
"Yeah," I said quickly. "Just talk. I'm trying to be… nice."
Silence. Not dramatic silence—just heavy. Like something was stuck in the air between us.
Then Aiden sighed.
"She's at the hospital a few blocks away," he said, eyes flicking elsewhere. "Don't expect me to know the ward number. And as for what happened to her—" he shoved his hands deep into his pockets, "I have no idea."
He paused.
"Does that answer your questions?"
"Um… yeah. Thanks," I said, voice small.
"Okay."
"Yeah."
And then... silence again. It sat between us like an awkward third wheel.
Aiden turned toward the door, but lingered.
"Well…"
I blinked.
I shrugged, arms halfway up. "What?"
He looked at me plainly. "You were leaving."
"Oh. Right. Yeah. Okay."
I turned to go, but that strange, uncomfortable weight hadn't left my chest. Something about his tone bugged me, scratched at the edges of my ribs. I paused and looked back.
"You're not mad at me or anything… are you?"
"Mad?" Aiden looked mildly amused. "Why would I need to be?"
"Well, because—" I started, then gave up.
He stepped forward and ruffled my hair again, that same infuriatingly casual gesture he always did when I was overthinking.
"I'm not."
That finally got a smile out of me. Not a huge one. Just enough.
"Okay," I said.
And then I left.
But even as I walked out, the uneasiness clung to me like static.
Something about that whole interaction felt… off.
Or maybe that was just me being me. Again.
_ _ _
When school finally dragged itself to an end, I got a text from Aiden:
"Hey, can't meet today. Something came up. You can leave without me."
That was it. No emoji. No dramatic flourish. Just "something came up."
I stared at the message for way longer than I should've. I mean, I knew he wasn't mine or anything, but… still. I'd gotten used to walking home with him. Talking nonsense. Being annoying. Maybe even flirting. Okay, definitely flirting.
Was he mad? No—he said he wasn't.
But what if he was and just didn't say?
What if he was jealous? Or… worse, what if he just didn't care anymore?
My brain wouldn't shut up, and the more I thought about it, the more I hated sitting in that weird pit of "what if." So, I decided to do something mildly productive with my spiraling—go check up on Angela.
I arrived at the hospital, the cold air-conditioning slapping me the second I walked in. At the reception, a woman in green scrubs barely looked up from her computer.
"I'm here to see Angela Dickens," I said. "She's a student. Goes to my school."
She glanced at me. "Are you family?"
"Uh, no. Just a… friend."
That felt weird to say. I didn't know her, not really. But I said it anyway.
She raised an eyebrow, then stood. "Alright. Follow me."
She led me down a hallway that smelled like bleach and bad memories. We stopped at a door.
"Angela, you've got a visitor," she said, then pushed the door open and motioned for me to go in.
I stepped inside and paused.
The room was quiet, too quiet. The walls were a pale, sad yellow, the bed angled toward the window, and Angela was sitting up—barely. She had a cast on both legs, her right one elevated like it was royalty. Her hair was tied up in a messy bun, and she had a book resting in her lap.
She looked up and immediately froze like she'd seen a ghost.
Her eyes widened. "What are you doing here?"
I blinked. "Uh… I came to check on you? It's called courtesy."
Her expression flipped from shock to horror. "No! Get out! Now!"
I stopped mid-step. "Wait, what? Did I—did I do something wrong?"
She glared at me with enough heat to melt my soul. "Everything is wrong. All of this happened because of you. I wish I never met you, Almasi!"
I staggered back like she'd slapped me. "Whoa, whoa, whoa—slow down," I said, hands half-raised. "What do you mean it's because of me? We barely talked. You seemed fine the last time I saw you."
"I never said it was you," she snapped. "I said it's because of you."
"Okaaaaaay," I said, dragging the word like it owed me rent.
Angela groaned, clearly not in the mood. "Just… get out. I've been through enough. I'm barely alive and—" her voice cracked. "And…" Her eyes welled with tears.
I took a step closer, cautiously. "Hey, Angie… can I call you Angie?"
"No."
Yikes. Okay.
I raised both hands in surrender. "There's the strict, emotionless lady I met—what, three days ago?"
She scoffed, half-smirking through her tears.
Progress?
I softened my voice. "Look… whatever this is, I'm sorry. I know saying that doesn't magically fix anything, but I am sorry."
I reached out to pat her shoulder—an awkward, hesitant pat—but she glared daggers at me, and I retracted so fast it looked like a slap.
"Feisty," I muttered. "Cool. Got it."
Then I leaned in a bit. "But seriously, you need to tell me who did this to you. I can report it to the police—"
"No!" she barked. "He… he killed someone. Right in front of me. He warned me not to say anything."
My heart dropped. "Angela…"
"No, Isaaq. Please. I'm fine."
She wasn't. Not even close.
I felt sick. Someone hurt her because of me? But why? We weren't close. We were practically strangers. How the hell was this my fault?
"I know you're hurting," I said gently. "And I can't pretend I understand, but… can you at least tell me what happened?"
She wiped her eyes, her voice shaky. "It happened on Friday. It was late. I was coming home from Jessica's."
(Okay, pretending like I know who Jessica is.)
"That's when I met them."
Them?
Them?!
"There was more than one?" I asked, alarm rising.
"I couldn't see their faces clearly, but they asked me… what my relationship was with Almasi."
My throat tightened. "What?"
"I didn't understand, so I tried to ignore them and walk away… then they attacked me. I blacked out."
I felt like I'd been punched in the gut.
Someone out there was targeting people connected to me—and not subtly either.
Aiden. Theo. Aunt Julie.
What if… what if they were next?
I racked my brain for anyone who might hate me enough to pull something like this, but I came up with a big fat nothing.
Just then, a knock on the door.
Angela's parents walked in.
Her mom looked surprised to see me. Her dad? He looked like he'd rather throw me out the window.
"Oh! Hello," her mom said, smiling warmly. Her dad, meanwhile, narrowed his eyes at me like I was dirt in his garden.
"What business do you have with my daughter?" he asked, voice sharp.
I panicked. "Uh… hi. I… um—"
"I called him over," Angela interrupted. "I needed him to bring some stuff from school, that's all."
She… covered for me?
Huh. Maybe she didn't hate me that much.
Her mom lit up. "Ella! You didn't tell me your boyfriend was coming over. I'm so underdressed! What will my future in-laws think?"
Angela groaned. "Mum!"
I almost choked. "I'm not her boyfriend. Actually, I'm kinda… seeing someone else."
"Oh?" Her mom tilted her head. "Well, what would it take to get you two together?"
Angela shoved me toward the door. "You were going. Goodbye."
"Alright, alright—I'm leaving!" I pulled past her parents, throwing a sheepish smile over my shoulder. "Goodbye, Angela. Mr. and Mrs. Dickens."
Her mom waved. Her dad scowled. Classic.
I stepped out of the hospital, the cool air hitting me like a reset button—but it didn't help.
Someone was targeting people around me. People I barely even knew.
This wasn't just about Angela anymore.
And now… I needed answers.
Fast.