The Princeton library was unusually crowded for a Thursday afternoon. I sat drifted to the thin, <b>dark </b>haired figure hunched over textbooks three falles away.
AROD
at at a corner table, pretending to read while my attention
Ss Murphy.
“Is that Jade Morgan? In the library?” A whisper floated from a nearby table, followed by a chorus of hushed voices.
“I’ve never seen her here before.”
“Maybe she’s here for the new guy.”
“He’s cute in <b>that </b>mysterious, brooding <b>way</b>.”
I scrolled through messages on my phone. Ethan <b>had </b>texted again, asking about my eyes,
Better. Stop asking.
closed My vision had improved enough to read without strain, though distant objects still blurred around the edges. I nced up as Sis c his books, meticulously arranging them in his worn <b>backpack</b>. His movements were efficient, almost mechanical.
He checked his watch–a cheap <b>digital </b>model with a cracked face–and frowned. Seven o’clock. He gathered his things quickly and headed for the exit.
I waited exactly thirty seconds before following.
The public bus dropped Ss at the <b>edge </b>of Princeton’s poorest neighborhood–abyrinth of crumbling apartment buildings and narrow alleys. I trailed him silently through darkening streets.
<b>Ss </b>turned down a narrow passage between two buildings. Even with mypromised vision, I could tell something was wrong when <b>he </b>suddenly stopped. Voices echoed between the <b>brick </b>walls.
“Well, well. <b>Look </b>who’s here. A stocky figure stepped into Ss’s path, followed by more shadows–at least a dozen. “Been looking for you, Murphy.
what do you want?<b>” </b>
<b>Ss’s </b>shoulders tensed. “What do you
“Your <b>piece </b>of shit father owes my cousin three grand. Plus interest.” The leader stepped closer, streetlight glinting off something metallic in his hand. “Then there’s the hospital bill for Joey’s broken nose.”
“I don’t have money,” Ss said, voice <b>t</b>.
“That’s too bad. <b>Guess </b>we’ll have to take payment another way.” The guy tapped a metal pipe <b>against </b>his palm. ‘How about we start with your legs?
The <b>others </bughed, moving to form a circle around Silus.
I expected him to run. Instead, he swung his backpack, ratching the leader squarely in the face. The man stumbled back, cursing
“Get him!”
Two thugs rushed forward. Ss dodged the fast swing,nding a sollid punch to one guy’s throat, but the second caught him across the back with a pipe. He staggered but stayed on his feet, ducking another swing
For someone who looked half–starved, he moved well. Street lighting. not trainedbat, but effective enough. Still, the odds were impossible–one against twelve.
ging with him.
A second blow caught his shoulder. A third nced off his forearm as he blocked. They were toying
The leader stepped forward, pipe raised for <b>a </b><b>blow </b>that would shatter bone.
“Hey!”
y!” I <b>called </b>from the alley entrance. “Twelve against one? Pathetic.
Heads turned. I picked up a discarded pipe and twirled it experimentally.
“The fuck are you?” the leader spat.
I didn’t answer, just walked forward. Two moved to intercept me. <b>The </b>first swing was telegraphed so obviously I could have dodged it blindfolded. I sidestepped, brought the pipe down on his wrist–felt bone give way–then drove <b>my </b>knee into his groin<b>. </b>He dropped, screaming.
The second barely had time to register what happened before my pipe connected with his temple. Down.
The others rushed me together. A <b>mistake</b>. In tight quarters, they blocked each other, got in their own way. I moved through them knife through butter–precise, efficient. No wasted movement,
Seven seconds. Seven bodies on the ground.
The leader backed away, eyes wide. “What the <b>fuck </b>
like a
1 <b>closed </b>the distance before he could finish, drove the pipe into his stomach, <b>then </b>brought it down on the back of his neck as he doubled over. Not hard enough to kill, just enough to make sure he wouldn’t get <b>up </b>anytime soon.
The remaining thugs scattered, leaving their unconscious friends behind.
Ss stood frozen, blood trickling from a cut on his forehead.
I <b>walked </b>toward him, pipe still in hand. His eyes widened as I <b>raised </b>it and swung.
The metal stopped <b>an </b>inch from his face.
“Just kidding,” I said, dropping the pipe
with a tter. “You looked like <b>you </b>needed help.”
He stared at me, chest heaving. “Why were you following me?”
??
I <b>wasn’t</b>. I <b>was </b>getting tacos.” I shrugged. “There’s a Mexican ce around the corner, right?”
<b>12:27 </b>Sat, Sep 27
Ss clutched his <b>arm</b>, wincing. “Right,”
He looked at me for <b>a </b>long moment, then turned and headed for a rusted door set in the brick wall.
“Hey,” I called after <b>him</b>. “I just saved
ass. A thank you‘
would be nice. Or at least show me where to get tacos.
Ss nced back, eyes unreadable. Without a word, he jerked his head, Inilleating I should follow.
Am
lly in a notebook<b>. </b>I set my
The <b>next </b>day, I spotted Ss in the student dining hall. He sat alone, food untouched as he scribbled frantically tray down across <b>from </b>him.
*<b>Late </b>for ss?” I asked.
He looked <b>up</b><b>, </b>startled. “What?”
1 gestured to his notebook. “You’re writing like the world’s ending”
Ss went back
k to his notes
s without answering. The dark circles under his eyes had deepened overnight.
I ced a <b>small </b>tube on the table between us. “Sports medicine. For bruises <b>and </b>muscle strain. Better than whatever over–the–counter crap you’re using.”
His pen stopped moving. He stared at the tube but didn’t reach for it.
dering if <b>I’d </b>miscalcted. Then he returned with a
After a moment, Ss closed his notebook and stood. I watched him walk away, wondering tray of food, setting it in front of me.
“How much?” I asked as he <b>sat </b>down.
I
He ignored the question, reopening his notebook.
“Do you have notes fromst semester?” he <b>asked </b>suddenly, <ol><li>v. not looking up. </li></ol>
“Yeah,” I lied, “Want to borrow them?”
is <b>gaze </b>nicked up briefly. The question was obvious in his eyes.
His
“What’s in it for me?” 1 asked.
<b>Ss </b><b>looked </b><b>back </b>down at his notes, Jaw tightening.
1 finished my <b>food </b>and left the medicine tube on the table.
When Ss entered the ssroom that afternoon, the whispers started immediately<b>. </b>
“Did you see him with Jade?”
“In the <b>dining </b>hall-
He slid into his seat, Ignoring the stares. I watched from <b>across </b>the rooms as he opened his <b>backpack </b>and froze.
Three spiral notebooks <by </b>on his desk, eachbeled with a course number. Inside the top one, a note was stuck to the first page:
Study hard. –
200
The notebooks weren’t mine. I’d borrowed them from Amelia Chen, our ss’s resident overachiever. I hadn’t even needed to exin- she’d been so excited about Jade Morgan acknowledging her existence that she’d thrust the notebooks into my hands immediately.
<b>Ss </b>looked up, scanning the room <b>until </b>his eyes met mine. For a split second, I thought I saw something–gratitude, maybe. But then his expression shuttered closed, and he turned back to the notebooks.
I smiled to myself. The whispers grew louder around us, but neither of us <b>paid </b>them any attention
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