He closed his locker and zipped up his bag, just like he did every day. When he walked down the crowded hall with shoulders brushing and bumping into his every other moment, and when he took the first steps down the stairs that lead to the first floor, it all felt normal. Like every day after school, he was taking his usual route with the usual weight of his textbooks, and it was all so very usual.

But Isaac's body was tingling, shivering, twitching with anxiety. Every person he passed seemed to be watching him, judging him, and guilt was slowly clawing across his strangled chest, twisting his stomach into such a tight knot that he nearly keeled over. He never wanted to hurt them, or anybody, anybody but the club. He told himself it was fair; they'd been killing him slowly for two years, twisting and digging an already-wedged knife even deeper into him when all he wanted was to make it all up to them. He'd tried. After Dimitri left the club, he'd tried. After Spender started keeping secrets, he tried. Then Isabel stopped talking, and Ed stopped talking, and week after week his patience seemed to snuff out, little by little. They still made fun of him, and he still remembered realizing, by chance, that maybe it'd never been friendly, that maybe they made fun of him because they didn't care about him, not because they were bonding or something, in hindsight, stupid as that. He got weaker, and weaker, and he got hopeless, and pathetic, leaching onto something that would never be.

Then Max happened.

Max took the knife out of his chest, and just as he thought it was gone for good, Max dug it right into his heart.

He didn't care; he never did. Just like the rest of them. Isaac wasn't even important enough to be hated, wasn't worth the thought and energy. They had other things to worry about, things they wouldn't tell him because he didn't matter and he was nothing but the team mascot they'd abuse each and every day, toying with his emotions the way masters lined up their puppets. So he hated them for all they were worth, hated himself, too. It disgusted him that they had so much tug at his strings, that they could burn each thread down without so much as a glance and not even watch his ashes hit the ground. He knew they'd never forgive him, let alone like him- and he didn't even want that anymore. He just wanted them to care.

And if he had to make them hate him as much as he hated them to get there, he'd do that.

She'd been tossed and kicked and bent, and there wasn't any sign she'd get better. She was sure her grandfather saw it- sure her opponent saw it. Isabel winced and got on her knees, pressing the palms of her hands against the wet grass. Her legs were bruised from just above the calves and down, though she was sure a spectral shot had hit her right in the thigh- and her side- earlier. She didn't know what was wrong with her. This wasn't a student that had ever given her trouble before. When her grandfather called him up to the field, she'd been sure he wanted her to teach the slacker a few things, but it looked like the tables had turned. It was either the loser had finally started brushing up on his punches, or…

She turned her head over her shoulder, eyes searching the sidelines. Master Guerra sat at his typical spot, arms crossed, looking gruff as ever- she wasn't doing well, she knew that. Other students sat around with water bottles in their hands and towels around their necks, wiping beads of sweat from their red foreheads. Others met her eyes when they landed on them. Ed sat among the crowd with hardly a drop of sweat at his brow, and he was also watching her.

Usually he'd be cheering her on so obnoxiously loud that her grandpa would have to shut him up.

He just sat there, watching her. No expression. No glee, no disinterest, nothing.

Isabel reached up and wiped the wetness from the corner of her lip, twisting back around just as the student came closer with one extended hand. Was he going to help her up? Punt her in the stomach with his aura? "Bad move, buddy." She curled her fist and threw it right into the side of his face, sending him into the ground, rolling a few inches away. She took the opportunity to kneel on one leg, baring her teeth. The student gasped and pushed their body off the ground and she dove forward, pulling back her other fist before throwing it forward. The other student dodged it, and they began dancing back and forth like that- Isabel throwing punches, the student just narrowly dodging them.

"You are not concentrated, Isabel. You will focus."

"I'm trying!"

She took another glance at Ed, who seemed just as withdrawn as he had before. He'd just taken to wiping his mouth with a towel hanging from another student's shoulders. It took only that moment for the other student to dig their heel into the ground, raising both arms tight to each other to block the next hit Isabel went for. She blinked, and he reached around to grab her extended arm by the elbow, twisting the skin enough to feel like it was burning. She yelped, and they docked their heel in the ground with a small hole, twisting their body around so that she followed.

They went around and around in circles, spinning so furiously and so quickly that Isabel's breath didn't just leave her- her footing did, too. She was weightless, couldn't even manage a scream, though she was trying. Her legs swung through the air as the other student twisted them both around. Then he started to let her go. Isabel choked on nothing and tried to press her hand against the force of the wind, inching closer and closer to his arm where she could latch on. It felt like the whole world was pressing against her, so thick and invisible she couldn't fight against the currents.

Slowly, though she was squinting through dry eyes, her fingertips brushed against his wrist where he held her. He grunted and let her slip through his fingers, releasing her to the mercy of the wind. It felt, then, like the wind was knocked right out of her, equal to any punch she'd ever received in the gut. She went flying across the yard, too fast to do anything about it, too slow to know anything but the instinctual fear.

Her feet hit the ground first, tips of her toes brushing against dirt and wet grass. Then her body started to fall backwards, and with an outstretched arm, she watched as the world around her ran in circles again. She went tumbling, rolling in a ball until she'd gone as far as the other student could throw her, back hitting the ground before her legs did. Isabel gasped and arched her back, twisting around so that she could sit up on her elbows. Strands of her hair fell into her face, twigs and dirt like dandruff on her head. She coughed and bent her head below her shoulders, clenching her fists.

"You aren't even trying, Isabel." Her eye twitched at Master Guerra's voice. "Why will you not focus? What else is so important?" She pushed herself higher, sitting up on her calves. "Fight again, and this time, concentrate."

"I can't!"

Isabel pressed onto both feet, spinning on her heel, speeding as fast as her walk could carry her to the front door of the dojo, one hand to her face, the other balled in a fist at her side.

Master Guerra followed her with his eyes, sneering to himself and stroking his beard. "What a distracted child… she will get over that should she be a prodigy."

Ed's eyes followed Isabel all the way to the door, brows furrowing. His hands tangled, fingers intermingling.

He wanted to reach out to her; he wanted to grab her hand.

"Concentrate?" Isabel slammed the door to her room hard enough that the walls shook around her. "How am I supposed to concentrate when he's leaving me here?" One hand reached out and gripped the lamp at her beside. Her fingers clenched around it, and she tossed it as far and as hard as she could into the wall. It shattered on impact. "First Eightfold," Isabel kicked a stack of textbooks, both schoolwork and spectral work. Papers went flying through the air, falling around her like slow, soft confetti. She sneered at it all. "Now Ed, it's all my fault, and I'm supposed to concentrate!" She was supposed to remind him that she's cool- that he thinks she's cool- and what did she do? Fecked it all up! "What am I even doing? Nothing! Showing off isn't gonna make him stay, Isabel, you idiot! He's your friend, not some sparkle-eyed groupie! Ugh! How dumb can I even be?" There had to be a way to get him to change his mind, something that would remind him that she was his best friend, that she needed him- darn it, she couldn't lose him, too! Not so soon after Eightfold! She'd let one friend down already, lost them because she made a choice- not the wrong choice, but not a great one- and the same stupid thing was about to chase Ed away too, and it was all just her fault! How was she supposed to fix it? Could she even?

Isabel huffed, breaths in and out as she stood in her destroyed bedroom. Whatever books she'd had laid around were all over, had even knocked over some posters that'd been hanging on the wall. Her bedsheets were thrown to the other side of the room, pillows and their feathers falling in the air, gracing her head on the way down, blowing away as she exhaled. Her fists unclenched, and she frowned.

No, she would fix it- she had to.

His dad had been fiddling with his tie for the last twenty minutes, but he insisted he do it himself, so Max let him. The old guy was smiling from ear to ear, nose wrinkling in sheer anticipation of what was to come on his Tuesday night. After all, third date? His dad might be getting home late that night… the thought made him sick, but Max put on a fake grin anyway. His dad could never tell the difference. He loved his kids and all, yeah, but the guy was practically a dumb teenager in an adult's body; reading people wasn't something he was exactly high in skill on, even in regards to his own kids. He could always tell with Mom though…

"Finally! Got it! How do I look, Max?"

He blinked back to life, eyeing his father in the suit he'd worn all of three times- his sister's wedding, Easter, and then one embarrassing time to a casual neighborhood cookout- and finding, with mild contempt, that he actually looked pretty good. Max nodded and forced his smile to be wider, like that made it look more genuine or something. He knew it didn't, but he also knew his dad wouldn't notice. "You look great, Dad!"

"Even the tie?"

"Even the tie."

His dad laughed, and the smile he'd had twitched downwards for the smallest of moments as he reached up to tug at it around his throat, lightly tugging when the knot sat. "I haven't tied one in years, I suppose. Your mother always helped me with it…" The room fell silent with the drop of Max's mood, sullen and somber, reminiscent of a time years passed. His dad winced and rubbed at the back of his neck. "I like to think she's cheering for me, wherever she is."

Max stayed quiet.

Moments passed in hours, or they felt like hours, honestly Max couldn't much tell anymore. Time had become a bit of the odd concept when he focused on it too long. Five years seemed like five years sometimes, the times where he wasn't actually really thinking about it, the times where the date crossed his mind but he'd be busy doing something else, like fighting Grudges or struggling to remember who signed the Declaration of Independence. Then other times, times like these, five years seemed like five minutes ago. Five minutes was too soon, he felt, to be talking about another woman, too soon for it to feel like moving on and not "cheating". He pushed the guilt in his chest down, though it came at him from two sides- the part of him that knew he should support his dad, and the irrational part of him that felt like a traitor, pushing his dad into a stranger's arms because she apparently "had blue hair" and "smiled like the ocean". Yeah? Well his mom had caramel eyes and a voice like the warmest bells in spring, with cinnamon and fire and chestnut.

"Anyway," his dad started for the stairs, waving to Max on his way over "I'll text you when I'm on my way home! It's a school night, so I promise it won't be too late."

"Yeah, yeah…" He might have sounded more flippant than he'd planned, so he covered it up with a low chuckle and waved back. "Have a- a good time!"

His dad smiled again, and giggled like a child before sliding down the staircase railing.

Wednesday

"You can't run this story, Suzy."

"And? Who says I can't?"

Dimitri growled through his teeth and ran a hand through his hair. Suzy watched him the way he figured she would when Isaac told her- if Isaac told her. She took a step back when he took a step forward, and kept her eyes on him even when Collin was saying something.

Collin, who wasn't much better, standing on the very opposite side of the room from the two of them, hands in his pockets, legs twisted to run whenever the situation might call. But Dimitri would never hurt them, and it bugged him more than he would have liked to logically admit that they seemed scared of him. Seemed? No, they were. Horrified. "Please, Suzy, listen to me here. If you release that story, there's a lot that's gonna happen and none of it's gonna be good."

"Except that people will finally know the truth."

"You've gotta trust me here!"

Suzy practically spit at him. "Oh yeah? Like you trusted me?"

Dimitri blinked, lips parting to say words he couldn't even fit together. She watched him, unmoving, hands clutching the folders and pictures to her chest; the editor in him, the part of him that didn't exist until Suzy took him into the journalism club, until she got her hands on him and changed him because that's honestly what Suzy did best- he wanted to tell her that she'd crease the pages; it would all be harder to scan. He shook the thought and fixed her with a glare, taking a step forward. "Suzy-!" He reached one hand toward her, aiming to set it at her shoulder, maybe set her terrified self at ease.

But another hand gripped his wrist and tugged it to the side, and when Dimitri looked, he found Collin standing there, an unreadably cool look on his face for somebody who knew Dimitri could slice him in half. His lips thinned, and he forced himself to not pull out of his hold. He turned his attention back to Suzy, who'd been glancing at Collin with startled eyes when he started again. "Suzy, you have to trust me. You have no idea what you're doing!"

"Bite me, broski. You've been one of them from the beginning, haven't you?"

"What?"

"A spe- specter…" Suzy hummed and bit her lips. "Whatever you guys are called! You're one of them, and you knew I was on the Activity Club's trail, so you joined the Journalism Club to throw me off!" Her voice cracked, and he could see her eyes turning red behind the fire she used as a shield. He went to say something, and she cut him off. "You never wanted to be here! You were- you were a double agent! You were just trying to protect the people you actually care about!"

"Suzy, I-!"

"Well what about us, huh?" She slapped one hand to her chest. Cheeks brushing red as frustration and betrayal and pain took over, and she spat each word. "Don't you care about us at all? We were supposed to be a team, you jerk! And all this time you've just been hanging around for their sake? Protecting them?"

He could feel Collin's hold slackening around his wrist, fingers parting slowly until the whole hand fell. "Suzy." Collin's voice fell on deaf ears. Dimitri would have tried, but they'd both learned long ago that there was no quelling Suzy. She was fierce in every meaning. When she felt, she felt with the same passion and ambition in which she worked, and right then she must have been feeling perfectly dismal.

"Well, you failed." When she spoke next, she spoke with finality and clarity, though he could hear the wet salt piling up. "So you can go report back to your little psychic friends and let them know you can join their little cult again, because there's no reason for you to come around here anymore!"

He hadn't known heartbreak for a long time, if he'd ever. It was something he only heard about in overly dramatic novels when they read tragedies in English, or soap operas his mom would pop on the TV sometimes with a fresh pint of ice cream. It was a deep, scarring feeling, he'd gathered, something so profoundly painful that it could lead someone to do their worst- murder, suicide, cheating- the works. It had the power to start wars and the power to win or lose them. Dimitri wasn't sure he'd ever really known heartbreak, but he was sure he felt something like it right then.

He gaped like a brainless fish at Suzy, who'd twisted away, rubbing furiously at her eyes. She couldn't have been serious, right? He turned to look at Collin, who'd been watching Suzy with such empathy he almost thought he was sharing in the bulk of her pain. He looked at Dimitri when he felt his eyes on him, frowning sympathetically compared to the rage that'd been in their fearless leader.

"I think you should go."

Dimitri looked from Collin to Suzy, back and forth until his mind could completely process that this was really happening. Each second had his heart splitting in two, cracking open and spewing a mouthful of emotions he didn't think he'd ever find it in himself to feel. Yet there they were, cold, hot, stinging, unconceivable panic and regretful acceptance bursting forth from his chest and rising like acid in his stomach. Something was rising in his throat, but he choked it down because it wasn't a scream or a speech, or a plan- it was unfamiliar, and it was taking him over the way no other emotion had taken him before.

He twisted on his heel and sped through the clubroom door, falling into step with the rest of the student body, filtering through the front doors on their way home.

Collin watched after him, clenching and unclenching that hand that'd been wrapped around Dimitri's wrist. He wasn't sure what he'd been doing, or even why. He guessed he was done seeing Suzy put herself in danger, not that Dimitri was actually a threat, necessarily; there'd been a chance, but most of him wanted to believe Dimitri was secretive- not a psychopath. It was odd that his mind had pressed him to step between her and danger that time, as opposed to trying to keep Suzy away from any danger at all. But he'd found himself leaping in front of her; he'd known, somewhere, he hoped, that Dimitri wasn't going to hurt her, but some part of him wasn't sure, and that part of him had full control for just that moment.

He turned to look at Suzy, who'd stopped wiping her eyes, though he could still hear her sniffling.

"It was a good idea, not telling him." Collin stuffed his hands in his pockets, and Suzy stood a little straighter. "He was torn up enough about you publishing it in the school paper. If he knew you were…"

"Yeah." Her voice still shook. He could hear it even in just that word. He could see the unspoken comment in the air. I think he might've really tried to kill me, then.

He sighed and ran a hand over his face. "Well, what are we waiting for? We have two-hundred dozen papers to print."

She glanced at him over her shoulder, scrunching her red nose, brows furrowed, eyes curious. He smiled and shrugged, turning away to gather the printing paper. Suzy blinked and gave her eyes one last good wipe back and forth, her smile growing little by little before she beamed at him from behind her sleeve. "Let's get to work, then, lazy-bum!"