HEY, I'm finally back! It's a miracle! And like a week after TS dropped her surprise album (yes I'm a stan, sue me). Sorry it's taken me so long to update again, I haven't abandoned this story I just wanted to take my time with this. I've realised I've been putting myself under too much pressure in a lot of areas in my life, this fic included, so now that I've taken a proper break (and read some books in the meantime), I actually feel a lot more comfortable in my writing abilities.

But anyway, let's get on with the show! Thanks to SomeOrdinaryNoob, Apotheosis0, Dragonshadow97 and Rosali Leon Huamani for the follows and favs! And thanks to my beautiful readers for remaining patient with me. Actually, massive thank you to those who expressed concern for me, don't worry, I'm all good and happy, just needed space to let myself settle.

But let's get on shall we? This chapter in particular has some cool developments ;)

"Arnold?"

It was Arnold.

I was staring at Arnold.

The moonlight crept down his shirt as he pushed the door shut behind him. The white patches climbed over his face as he swept across the room, expression pressed with concern. The line between his brown deepened as he got closer to me. I wanted to move, but my joints had locked into place, and before I knew it, he had my shoulders in his grasp.

"Helga," he said back, sounding just as breathless.

He breathed with relief, and his scent brushed up against my face. The breath in me paused and a furious pounding made itself known in my chest. It was so powerful; I could feel myself shaking from its thuds and I was more than certain that he could feel it.

His eyes practically swam. It was like looking into a lake of evergreen, an emotional current carrying different hues of emerald. I glanced down, noticing that his blazer was nowhere in sight, like the last time I'd seen him. His hair was dishevelled, like he'd been running his finger through those strands, and his sleeves were shoved up to his elbows.

I sucked in a breath that stung sharper than a bee sting. That was how I liked him—shirt untucked, sleeves gathered at his elbows, and hair a little unkempt.

I lowered my gaze to bring back my focus.

"W–What are you doing here?" I stuttered and cringed, realising how funny my voice sounded. It felt like a lump had risen in my throat.

I knew that I should be outraged. I'd told him I'd be fine going alone—I'd volunteered for it. I'd thought that it went without saying that if someone went after me, it would not only make the sacrifice null, but possibly put Phoebe's life in even more danger. Yet here he stood, directly disobeying my wishes and possibly making everything worse.

But I . . . didn't feel it. Outraged, that is. Instead, I was . . . breathless.

"I was worried," he scolded, fingertips slightly tightening over my shoulders. "Helga, you just left us . . . D–Do you—fuck."

He broke off angrily and looked away. The moonlight swept over his face as he did so, turning his attention to the window. I didn't say anything at first, surprised by how quickly his face fell from a tight frown to a crumbled state, like a sheet of paper. Strangely, I felt guilty. Even though technically I wasn't in the wrong, I couldn't help feeling bad. Maybe I'd been doing that thing again—the thing Lila had been warning me against.

I'd thought I'd be doing the right thing by throwing myself into the crossfire, but maybe I'd only been making it worse. I'd technically be saving them, but I'd also be causing a lot of stress, which could lead to them acting out and doing something, inevitably making the situation worse.

His eyes slid down the window as he eased out a sigh, dropping his hands to shove them through his hair.

I frowned, understanding where I'd went wrong.

"I–I'm sorry, Arnold," I found myself saying so I wouldn't have to see that defeated look on his face. "But you need to leave. The thing—it's gonna be here any moment and—"

"It's okay," he suddenly said, expression melting as a smile rushed to cover his face. "It was killed."

That I hadn't been expecting.

"I—what?"

"Yeah, Lark came in while you were gone and she—she just did it, super quick." His eyes lit up as he explained it. In a way that left me swept up and captured beneath that golden shade of green. "You should've seen it, Helga, that thing was withering."

His lips pulled high into an excited grin. It shone handsomely like glass and I quickly looked away to the windows.

The clouds were black, lined with pale shades of silver as the moon twinkled from behind them. They moved sluggishly against the sky and soon the moonlight spilling across the floorboard went from a milky puddle to a patchwork of black and white.

"You know," I suddenly heard Arnold continue and when I looked back at him, he had a fond smile on his lips. "You . . . you look real pretty in the moonlight, Helga."

I stared at him.

Blush soaked his cheeks.

"Um," I blinked. "What?"

I had no idea how to react to that. Other than staring at him, which I did. I couldn't work out if he'd said what I'd thought he'd said. I was still pretty shaky; my heartbeat was throbbing in my ears. Maybe I'd misheard him or something. Actually, no scratch that, I'd definitely misheard him.

But then he reached forward, fingers inching towards the hair that hung over my ear. I panicked and reeled back, holding up my hands, and he blinked with confusion.

"Is something wrong?"

My jaw dropped.

"Uh, yeah," I nodded furiously. "What is up with you?! You're acting real weird."

He stared at me for a moment, which made me even more nervous. My limbs rattled as my heart shook, so fast that it burnt. I tried directing my attention literally anywhere else when he suddenly chuckled, rubbing the back of his head.

"It's just cause I—I've realised some things . . . recently. About us."

I hated how quickly I crumbled at the seams hearing that. Seriously, my thoughts, which had been whirling at this point, seemed to all just crash then disintegrate. My heart began to race so fast that it pushed heat like a venom through my limbs, pooling like fire in my knees. I tried to compose myself, shuffling my weight and looking away, but my fantasies had already arisen.

Did he . . . did he mean . . .

He looked back to me, the left side of his mouth rising slightly higher. The moonlight moved over his face like claws as he moved the slightest bit closer. And me, being completely calm and level headed, felt my heart jam hard into my throat.

"Would you like to—" he held out his hand "—dance?"

There was still such an intense throbbing in my throat (was that blood I could taste?). So, I could only manage a squeaky, "What?"

"C'mon," he then laughed—charmingly. The type you'd hear from a Prince in an older Disney movie. One that flooded my senses like gold—then took my hand in his. I tried not to outwardly react, but I accidentally let out a gasp that almost resembled a hiss. His hand was . . . so much bigger than mine.

"I've heard you're wonderful."

I barely even heard what he said, and quickly jerked my eyes back up to his. His lips rose into a smirk before he pulled me in closer so that I was wrapped in his arms. In a gentlemanly way. I blinked, feeling my mouth open, when he began to lead us, sweeping us into a dance.

Truth be told, it was pretty awkward. Not because of him—obviously—but because, well, I was barely functioning. Breathing was a task, let alone following him in an old–fashion type of dance. I wanted to fight against it, push him away and demand what the fuck he was going on about, but I . . . I couldn't.

The blood in my veins had frozen. My knees were shaking and burning with anxiety. I was powerless to fight against any of this.

Arnold's eyes burnt into mine. I couldn't look away. They were so dazzling, a chorus of softly woven green threads. They cut through me like a knife, burying deep inside my heart where old cracks suddenly fused and held together. His palm was wrapped around mine, larger than my own, and the heat of his skin pressed against mine had my stomach pushing into my throat.

But the music clashed with our dance. We were moving like we were in a ballroom, surrounding by visions of masked figures who watched us with envy. The moonlight moved smoothly over us, throwing us in streaks of white then patches of layered shadows.

"From who?" I found myself asking.

"Eugene."

I growled. "That rat . . ."

And then he laughed, that golden laugh that shimmered like the summertime.

"It's okay," he chuckled then leaned in closer. My pulse rushed and the corners of his lips twitched, like he knew the effect he had on me. "I think it's super cool."

I felt my eyes widen. "Really?"

But then I yelped when an arm slipped around my waist and a foot slid forward, next to mine. I blinked, looking back at him, then felt my whole balance getting thrown off as Arnold suddenly dipped me. Low. My eyes widened and I nearly flailed, but he didn't drop me, the grip around me unyielding.

My vision was then on his face, and only his face. The darkness moved around him, black and swollen, and his skin glowed against it. Arnold's face twisted with amusement, eyes shimmering, and he hardly seemed bothered with my panic.

His eyes hooked onto mine and again, his mouth twitched as he dipped me back further. The back of my head grazed the wooden floorboards and he leaned in so close that his cheek grazed mine. Goosebumps slid down my neck and I began to tremble, feeling his hot breath on my ear.

"Really," he whispered.

I gulped, feeling my throat tighten. Strands of his hair tickled my cheek. I opened my mouth, unsure of what I was even about to say, when his grip tightened and he pulled the pair of us back up, so suddenly it startled a gasp from me.

Now standing upright, I found myself wrapped up in his hands, barely inches from his face. His palms pressed against my back and mine, in turn, wrapped around the back of his neck.

His eyes were back on mine, without a hint of shyness. They glittered with amusement as dimples deepened in his cheeks.

I struggled to keep my composure, feeling myself turn red.

"C'mon, Helga," he said, voice creeping into a silky rumble that rattled my bones. I felt my chest quiver as he moved his hands against my back, pulling me even closer. I began to fear that he could feel my heartbeat punching through both of our shirts and against his chest. "Show me."

I could've pushed him away, right then and there. I was strong. He was a guy, but I'd had training. The different in our height and gender, it would make up for that. A ringing was buzzing between my ears, reminding me that I had duties to fulfil and that I shouldn't throw away my responsibilities for some boy. I was Blue Jay and, with or without a mask, I had to check on everyone else.

But I didn't.

Arnold's eyes were finally on me, like two bright spotlights, and they weren't going anywhere. It wasn't because he was disgusted or disappointed, but because he . . . wanted to see more of me.

That thought was enough to make me melt and before I knew it, I was doing exactly what he wanted me too.

The music suddenly roared, soaking into my senses, so when I stepped backwards, I let the pace direct my movements.

If you can't handle the choking, the biting
The loving, the smothering

I swayed my hips to her voice and crossed my wrists above my head. The bass pumped through me, like a gathering storm, and I felt myself loosen up as I wriggled my knees. The ends of my hair tickled my skin as I moved my chin, but through the strands, I felt Arnold watch me.

I glanced up and met his dark gaze, feeling a rush of giddiness flood my body.

'Til you can't handle it,

It pushed strong through me, and I found myself reaching across the space between us.

No more

I tangled my fingers with his, looking up to meet his curious gaze.

No more

And pulled him flush against my body.

Go home.

There was a beat of silence as the song transgressed to its chorus, and in that beat, Arnold's face formed into a mischievous smirk. I surprised myself by grinning back at him, well aware that he was following my train of thought, and felt his hand slid up against my back.

Can we just be honest?
These are the requirements

The music lapped over us as he took me into his arms, moving back and forth like we were in a modern Cinderella tale. He swayed me, round and round, and our feet mingled together, knowing exactly where to go as the vocals hurtled over us.

Darkness wrapped around us as we spun, curling like a shimmering net, but I couldn't look away from Arnold. There was something about his eyes, about the way they burned into mine, that enchanted me—moreso then usual.

Could you hold me through the night?
Put your lips all over my
Salty face when I start crying

I wasn't sure how long we were left spinning; everything became a blur. I couldn't see anything past his face—it beamed down at me, sparkling like the moon. Darkness breezed past us, seeping through the joints in the floorboards and snaking out from the corners of my eyes. It danced around us like a ribbon, swirling, dazzling and distracting me with its chaotic wisps that seemed to splash and curl over my face.

But through that, his eyes flashed.

The green shimmered and pulsed, and my vision began to waver. The blackness billowed, webbing in and out of his hair, and the floor shifted beneath my feet. My ears were burning. I heard my breath hitch but couldn't feel the air sliding into my lungs.

Arnold smiled, but not a happy one. It was victorious—smug, no teeth—and his eyes darkened. He squeezed my arm, a deep chuckle rumbling from his chest, and the noise thundered in my ears.

"You're so beautiful," he uttered, and then something dangerous sparked in his gaze.

We'd stopped dancing at this point. His fingers had locked around me like a cage, and even through the fabric, I could feel the heat of his skin. It was burning—scolding. I wanted to push him away—it fucking hurt to keep touching him—but it was like I'd lost control over my body. I couldn't move. I was so dizzy, my head felt much too heavy, I could feel the world beginning to cave in on me.

He moved his fingers to bury them deep into the back of my neck. I winced but was powerless to pull away.

Those harsh eyes fluttered, and I realised that he intended to move closer. The space between our faces wasn't large, but what little of it that had remained was rapidly disappearing.

I waited for my heart to begin racing, for sweat to break out from my skin, but instead I felt nothing. Silence echoed in my chest, sinking down to the bottom, and my bones seemed to double in their weight.

I was surrounded only by air, but it did a good job holding me in place. It was dark, appearing like smoke. It crushed against my torso, holding me in place, and keeping my jaw where it was so that I couldn't look away from Arnold. Or whoever this was.

I felt his breath brush against my face but didn't catch a scent. I felt so detached. I could barely focus on anything. His eyes were dark, no longer emerald, and a crooked smile lifted his lips as the distance between us closed. I felt his breath on mine. But I couldn't bare to watch, so I looked over his shoulder.

But then I saw it.

A flash of silver.

It was only for a split second—a blink twice and you'll miss it—but I caught it. The flash came down on his shoulder and I heard a squelch! He cried out, face scrunching up, before he threw away my hands to clasp onto his injured shoulder.

The darkness then vanished, like it had been nothing more then a delusion, and the air that swam across my face felt wet in comparison. The world around me expanded, looking almost silver, and I found myself back in the dance studio.

I looked down at Arnold—who had crouched to his knees—and gasped.

The figure no longer resembled Arnold. It didn't even resemble a human. It was a white figure; it's skin shimmered in the light, like it was made up of scales, and it had four long talons for fingers. It's head was bald, without any eyes, but it's mouth was wide and gaping, like it would suck out your soul.

It was a Mutant.

The breath slipped from my mouth. Green dripped from it's shoulder in clumps and when I looked back up, I recognised Lark's face staring back.

She stood over it, chest moving up and down like she had crossed a large distance, and her staff looked like it was about to fall from her hands as she looked up and down my face.

"Wha—what—" I felt myself move backwards when the world crushed down on me.

The floor softened and my knees gave out. The shadows crawled out from the edges of my vision and I felt myself fall, mind stuck swirling in a daze.

I heard a, "shit! before the side of my face hit the ground.

The pain roared, but my brain quickly filled with haze. It was thick and dulled my senses, so now the painful throbbing felt like a very distant ringing. The floor pressed cold against my skin, rocking back and forth until I could feel my stomach begin to heave. I wanted to puke, but at the same time, the feeling didn't come back to my body.

Then, a pair of hands found me. I jumped, expecting them to light my skin on fire like the last pair, but they were cold in comparison. Fingers wound over my shoulders, pulling me onto my back, where the floor beneath me suddenly became lumpy. The nausea was thick in my throat and I realised I was rested over someone's knees.

A gust of warm breath hit the side of my face.

"Shit," I heard someone say, again.

My eyes had shut—which I hadn't realised until now—and the dizziness was disorientating, but a part of me recognised that voice. It was pleasant sounding, warm. I didn't know who it belonged to, but they were familiar. I knew I was safe.

Then, I heard it—their breathing. It wasn't slow or calm but escalating—this person was panicking. Even with my eyes closed and the world unable to stop moving, I could always recognise the beginnings of agitation. The air was rushing up and past their lips much too quickly for anything to settle into their lungs.

I wanted to open my eyes. I wanted to see their face, to tell them that I was okay—if it was even me they were panicking over. But my lids, they were too heavy. I couldn't lift them. My stomach was still lurching, ready to catapult my lunch back up my throat, and my chest was clenched uncomfortably.

"Is she okay?" someone else asked, approaching my other side. Their voice was feminine sounding, although with a huskier ring to it.

I wanted to know who they both were—I recognised their voices, but the fog in my head made it impossible to identify them. I could only see darkness. It moved over me, filling my mind's horizon with an endless sea of black, rolling back and forth. I felt queasy looking at it. It moved like waves, scattering, rippling and tumbling like silk.

My throat clenched.

"She—" a hand pressed to the side of my face. "I don't know!"

The darkness tangled around me in thick velvet clumps, but I couldn't help focusing on that voice. It was first—so nice sounding, deep yet warm. It made me feel . . . happy. Despite it all, despite everything that had happened, hearing their voice in my ear, it . . .

A crack in the ocean opened up above. The sound of that voice burnt holes through the darkness that lingered around me. Bright, burning light poured through until my vision was full of flashing images.

The world was coming apart at the seams.

"She's not responding!"

I concentrated one more time on that voice. I imagined it were a string, a single thread of gold wrapped around my finger, attached to my only way out of here.

"Helga!"

Then, as the sound of my name on their lips broke through, I felt a tug that sent me from the void. I cried and broke out, eyes snapping open. I gasped and shot up, launching up from my back and into the air.

"Helga!" the voice cried out again.

Only this time, I recognised it.

I blinked, trying to see past the random spots that kept leaking over my vision, and looked between the two faces on either side of me.

Lark and . . . Arnold.

I cried then reeled back and out of his arms.

"Calm down—Helga!" Lark then quickly grabbed onto my wrists, hands turning into blurs to catch onto my fists, and she yanked me so hard I had no choice but to look at her. Her face was the most serious I'd seen, her eyes burnt straight into mine. "It was an illusion! It wasn't real!"

Her words hit me like glass, I was left speechless. Breathless. My mind raced to understand what it was that she had just said to me.

It wasn't real? By it did she mean . . .

I looked around.

The dance studio; I was back in the—I'd been here the entire time. I'd already known this, at the back of my mind, but the cloudiness was still consuming every area of my mind, seconds ago felt like hours.

The shadows slithered across the room, pushing over the floorboards and gliding up the walls. There was a square of light in the middle, coming from the windows. The square was behind Lark, who was sat on my right, still lightly grasping onto my wrists.

I could feel Arnold's presence on the other side of me, hands held up defensively in case I freaked out again, but I couldn't bring myself to look at him.

Over Lark's shoulder, a little to right, was a huddled couple. Needles of light traced down them and I quickly recognised their figures.

Phoebe was wrapped up in Gerald's arms, gaze glistening as she searched the scene in front of her for answers. Gerald had one hand in her hair, the other on her back, and an indistinguishable look on his face.

The music had been switched off, which left us in an echoing silence.

I swallowed.

"All of it?" I whispered to no one in particular, lowering my gaze. An ache throbbed in my chest, which was silly. I should've been grateful that something more drastic hadn't happened, but I couldn't help feeling . . . disappointed.

"You . . .you look really pretty in the moonlight, Helga."

My vison began to burn, and I clenched my jaw. So, what he—it—had said, everything had all been a . . . lie?

"You're so beautiful."

Of course. It had merely been a . . . distraction. A diversion. Words I'd only heard in my fantasies, meant to sneak in through the cracks and designed to bring my guard down, so that I no longer was Blue Jay, but . . . Helga.

And you fell for it.

Hurt roared in my chest. Right, it was true. I'd succumbed to my emotions. I'd fallen victim to my weakness yet again.

That weakness being—

"Helga?"

Arnold shuffled beside me, hesitating to reach out and touch my shoulder. His tone was cautious, sinking with his worry, and I felt his concern bore into my skin from his expression.

I merely dropped my gaze lower. I couldn't look at him,

Everyone around me exchanged glances. Everyone but Lark. As usual, she was the only one who understood what I was going through. Her grip loosened and my wrists slipped back down to my sides on the floor. Her gaze burned, so much that I had to look back at her and when I did, her face hardened.

"Helga," she said, voice low. "I'm sor—"

"Guys, watch out!"

All three of our faces immediately snapped back up and Arnold cried out, "Shit!"

It was the Wraith. The doors slammed open as it charged through, racing for all three of us. It hurtled through the silver light like a black ghost, leaving behind a dark streak. It's black eye hung onto mine, the other resembling that of a human, still locked in its position in the corner of the socket.

Immediately, I recognised it.

It was the Wraith from before—the one that had disguised itself as Phoebe.

My voice caught itself in my throat. I didn't have time to question where it had even come from when Lark shoved me backwards so that I was back in Arnold's arms. I stumbled against his neck and felt his hands fly up against my back from reflex. His nose grazed my forehead as he looked down at me, surprised, and though my heart stuttered, I didn't give myself time to falter.

I pushed out of his grasp, whirling on my knees, and saw several things happen at once. I saw the Wraith growl as the muscles in it's thighs flexed. I saw Gerald stumbling backwards, barely avoiding the monster barrelling past him, and covering his eyes with his arm. I saw the Wraith's claws glint in the moonlight. Another snarl. It raised it's paw in the air, in preparation for a fatal strike. But most importantly, I saw Lark throwing herself in front of us, intent on taking the hit.

My stomach plummeted.

I looked at her bare hands. She didn't have her weapon—she must've dropped it when I'd collapsed. Fuck. And hers wasn't like mine, where she could call it back to her hands with just a flick of her wrist. It wouldn't magically be pulled in with her movements.

Lark was weaponless, perfectly willing to take the hit to protect us.

I wanted to move to protect her, but I couldn't. There wasn't enough time. None of this was happening in slow motion like in the movies where I'd have enough time to formulate a plan. This was all happening at once, like someone had hit fast forward.

My fingers twitched, burning with the need to throw out a magical shield in front of her. The claws grew inches from Lark's face. A scream built in my throat. I prepared for the worst and slammed my eyes shut.

I dreaded to hear that slice! but instead, I heard a slash! and a gargling, high–pitched scream, followed by a loud thunk! as someone hit the ground inches from us.

Arnold jumped from beside me, palms leaving my side as he gasped.

There was a moment of stillness.

I opened my eyes then gasped.

I was staring at a . . . head, over Lark's shoulder—on the floor. A head—no, the head. From the Wraith. It's large black head was no longer attached to it's body. It had been lobbed off before falling and hitting the boards, sending out a shower of splattered blood across the floor.

Bile rose up in my throat.

I felt Arnold shudder.

The Wraith's cheek was pressed against the floor and it's tongue had lolled out from between it' lips. It's body had collapsed, like a lumpy sack cloaked in shadows, and the stump of it's neck had painted the floor and Lark's legs a murky green.

Someone had hacked off it's head.

Before it could attack Lark. But . . .

I glanced up.

A pair of equally startled eyes met mine. The person shook like a leaf, mouth opening and shutting like a fish, unable to form a coherent sentence. As more eyes turned in their direction, the person hastily dropped the staff—Lark's staff—which clattered to their feet.

I breathed, speaking without thinking.

"Pheebs?"

The night air was chilly.

I squirmed, uncomfortable, and tried discreetly running my hands up and down my arms. I was wearing my blazer—thank god—but it was still too thin. The winds were sharp, they slithered up my sleeves and down my neck, leaving goosebumps behind.

Phoebe peeked from the corner of her eyes, watching my hands, and reluctantly I forced myself to put them down by my side.

The pair of us were huddled on the school benches, positioned outside the school gates. It was made from wood and smelled of week old candy, nestled beneath a tree with dense and hanging branches.

It overlooked the parking lot which, of course, was vacant. For the most part. There was one car in the middle of the lot, which had been parked recklessly. It was a white SUV, one I could see a middle aged Mum driving as she dropped off her kids at soccer practise. It had been parked diagonally over four wide–spaced lines, like the owner had hopped out without a second glance to check if they'd parked correctly.

Said owner—an idiot—stood in front of the driver's door. His brow was wrinkled as he hung onto the handle with one hand and he conversed with Lark. Well . . . conversed was putting it lightly, it was more of an argument. A one–sided argument. Lark easily towered over him and Arnold, but still they argued with her.

Arnold was the more exasperated of the pair. He was frowning with irritation, arms wound tight over his chest, and his voice was progressively raising. He was the shortest of the three—he had to actually crane back his head to meet Lark's gaze—but he was the most fearless.

Pheebs and I were sat a fair's way away; we were both exhausted, physically and emotionally. We couldn't hear the majority of the conversation, but if I strained, I could catch onto certain words.

Like '—almost died!', 'Blue Jay', 'you alone?' and '—ren't you a team?!'

It didn't take a genius to understand why he was so annoyed.

I moved one of my fists to my chest, as if to suppress the hurt pumping through. I tried not to let it bother me, that Lark was taking the heat of the blame for my actions, but the guilt sliced through me like a knife. I should've been the one in Lark's spot, getting yelled at for letting tonight happen the way it did, not Lark.

To her credit, Lark handled him really well. Her face remained passive, grounded, and never once did she raise her voice back. She kept her chin raised, remaining cool, calm and collected, which shouldn't have taken me by so much surprise, but I couldn't help being taken back by how quickly she fed them lies she'd managed to quickly concoct.

Her words slid out easy, smooth and clear like glass. She didn't even have to pause to think about them, explaining away Blue Jay's absence in a way that didn't shift the blame and sliding in a couple of apologies where she could.

Arnold fell silent as he took it in. He closed his mouth, still appearing peeved over the situation, but the line between his brows smoothed as he listened to her. My heart ached watching him. I knew he wasn't acting like this because he was just angry, but he was also . . . scared. How couldn't he be? Tonight had been a lot. Not just how it ended, but the entire time we'd been in there. I still felt shook up and I was used to seeing things like that. It didn't feel fair to be angry at Arnold or Gerald for yelling at Lark because, from their perspective, we'd all almost lost our lives because she and Blue Jay had been slacking.

It made my chest burn with an ugly feeling.

They're in this because of you.

Beside him, Gerald kicked off from the car door, moving forward until he was next to his friend. He crossed his arms, face lined with suspicion as he listened to Lark.

I paused and examined Lark.

I had to give it to her, you would never be able to guess that she was actually talking to her two best friends. The three of them were all so close, like Pheebs and I, but constantly I was blown away that Lark was able to compose herself so her body reflected none of that. These boys knew her more then anyone, if she accidentally fell into old Lila habits, it could weird them out or even tip them off, if they were particularly observant.

But Lark was able to stay courteous but distance without any lingering glances. Her stance was approachable but professional, the right amount of distance was kept between them. Her face was even, her words guarded and smooth.

You'd never connect her with Lila Sawyer.

"How are you feeling?"

I jumped slightly and turned around to Phoebe, who had risen her brows at me.

I sighed, shifting my weight again, and wiped my forehead.

"Still dizzy," I answered truthfully. "And a little cold, but . . . better."

She paused, pressing her lips together for a moment before nodding and looking back at the boys. Silence fell over us and I wiggled in my seat.

"You . . . you surprised me back there," I surprised myself by saying. Phoebe turned back to me, confused. "When you killed that thing."

"Oh," her face dawned with recognition and she turned away. She glanced at her lap then up to the sky, throat bobbing as she took a hard swallow. The stars reflected in her eyes like tiny beams, illuminating her bewilderment. "Yes, I was surprised as well, I . . . I just saw what it was about to do and . . . acted on instinct."

Her words boomed in my ears, rolling until they were lodged in my brain like an anchor. Instinct—in my heart of hearts, I knew what that meant. I knew that this was just another piece to the puzzle that had been forming around us.

Coldness travelled down the nape of my neck. I didn't want this—I didn't want it to be her. I would rather it be anyone—anyone—but her. I wanted to shut down the suggestion before it was even made.

But . . .

I glanced at Arnold.

He sighed, stepping backwards as he rubbed the back of his neck. His features were twisted with grimness as he realised he had no one to be angry at anymore. It was a look I knew all too well. It was the exact one that I pulled when I'd run out of people to blame and, through whatever circumstances, had turned it around onto myself.

He glanced to the side, shoving his hands into his pockets, and my heart sank.

He's like this because of you.

The pin in my pocket felt like a stone.

You made him like this.

I knew what I had to do, so that this wouldn't happen anymore. Not to Arnold, not to Gerald, not to Lila and . . .

"You acting on instinct?" the chuckle slid from my mouth as I turned back around to Phoebe, forcing a grin. "Thought you were too logical for that."

Not to me.

She glanced back with surprise before giggling and playfully shoved me. I surprised myself by laughing back, but the brief moment of happiness quickly crumbled back into guilt.

I was a shitty friend.

"As did I," she laughed then paused and glanced down to my forearm, where I'd shoved my sleeves up too. I frowned, not even realising that I'd done that. "Oh, you really are cold."

"Eh," I pulled away from her grasp and rolled them back down. "The cold never bothered me anyway."

Phoebe fixed me with a look, which made me chuckle.

"You should have taken Arnold's jacket," she lightly scolded.

My heart panged hearing his name.

"Pfft, nah," I ignored it and waved off Phoebe's concern. "This woman doesn't need no man to keep her safe and warm."

Never mind that said man was my kryptonite.

Phoebe smirked. "You're such a dork."

"Guess that makes me your dork, nerd."

She giggled when I bumped my shoulder against hers with a grin—a real one this time. This felt like old times. She batted me away then leaned forward, placing her elbows on her knees as she looked up at me. The smile that tugged at her lips made me both happy and sad. The warmth that twisted in my heart was bittersweet. I was so glad to have Phoebe in my life, sticking by my side through thick and thin, and now . . . things were about to get a lot harder.

"Oi!"

We looked up.

The first person I spotted was Lark. She stood with her arms crossed, face so blank that she appeared like a soldier. It was pointless trying to distinguish what it was she might be thinking. Lark would never admit it, but she was a fairly guarded person, especially when she was Lila. She kept things to herself and didn't let others in unless she really trusted them, as not to burden them with her own thoughts and feelings. She was like me, only she hid behind smiles and politeness so it wasn't easy to detect. Even I could only guess as to how she actually felt.

Arnold had spun around, already heading into the car without another backwards glance, while Gerald swung his keys on his finger.

He had his other hand cupped against his mouth and shouted, "C'mon, I don't wanna have to be here anymore then I have to!"

Yeah, that talk definitely hadn't gone well. I made a mental note to check up on Lila after this was all over.

Phoebe glanced at me, lifting her shoulder in a type of half shrug, and I nodded. The pair of us hopped down from the bench, grass crunching beneath our feet, and headed in their direction. The soles of our shoes clip clopped against the concrete when we moved onto the actual lot and invisible crickets rung irritatingly close.

The walk towards the car seemed to take a lot longer then it should've. I didn't know if I'd underestimated the distance or if Phoebe and I were just more tired then I'd originally thought. But I ducked my gaze, more than aware that everyone was watching us, and fiddled with the bandage wrapped around my wrist. The dark patch was drying so the fabric was uncomfortably crusty. I'd have to rewrap myself once I got home tonight, even thought most likely the actual cut itself would disappear before sunrise.

When we reached them, Gerald held the door open for Phoebe and watched carefully as she got inside. The golden glow from the streetlights came down in strips and illuminated the dark worry in his eyes. He helped her in like she was royalty, hand lingering beneath hers as she settled into her seat, before turning back to me with a cocked brow.

I rolled my eyes and moved to hop in after Phoebe when I caught the hard look on Lark's face. Mid step, I glanced back at her. She stood on my left, arms still crossed with half her face bathed in orange light.

Nel wants to talk to us when you get home, she mentally whispered to me, making sure not an ounce of this showed through her face.

I looked away so I would appear suspicious and caught Arnold's eye in the mirror. I swallowed then settled into my seat, keeping my chin low.

I figured, I responded with a subtle nod then shut my door.

Shadows caved in on me. Gerald quickly moved to his side, climbing inside with his jingling keys before he shoved them into the ignition. He slammed his door shut and my heart thudded as I waited for the car to start. I lowered my focus onto my lap so I wouldn't glance up at Lark, who stood outside my window.

I'll be there soon, she said, eyes glancing over to a particularly large bush. Nel and I will try cleaning what we can.

Strands of hair slipped around my eyes.

I swallowed, unable to resist peeking up from the corner of my eye. Her face was in a frozen, guarded state and now that the back of her head faced the light, shadows folded around the sides of her face.

The car spluttered to life and I jumped. Phoebe's eyes jolted in my direction and I quickly turned back to my lap. I didn't let myself breathe again until I felt Gerald pulling out from his parking space. Well, spaces.

Lark calmly stepped backwards and out of the way as Gerald reversed before pulling out from the lot. I couldn't help turning in my seat to look out the back window.

Lark no longer watched us. She had spun around, walking across the lot at a steady pace, which almost seemed unnatural for her. She was headed to the bush she'd been staring at and, as she did, her shadow was thrown across the concrete. Her hair fanned out like it was a short cape, a dazzling display of red flickers that reminded me of fire.

When she reached the bush, she stopped and I caught a small, dark body exiting from the leafy branches right before Gerald pulled out into the streets.

But the engine roared and Gerald jumped with, quickly slamming his foot down on something with a yelp. Arnold's face snapped in his direction and the dark–skinned boy blushed, muttering a curse to himself before regaining control of the engine again.

I turned back around, lump growing back in my throat. There was definitely a heavy discussion waiting for me when I got home. I slumped in my seat with a sigh. I knew that it was necessary, but I really didn't feel like talking right now, especially about that. I just wanted to go to bed.

Arnold twisted in his seat to look at me.

"You alright, Helga?"

"Yeah," I nodded then turned to the window. It was dark, blackness taking up every inch of the glass save for the occasional needle of light that poked through the thick walls of trees that surrounded us. "Just tired s'all."

Which didn't count as a lie. I was tired. Physically and emotionally. It felt like so long ago when I'd woken up in that broom closet.

It was completely dark outside so I could clearly see Arnold in the window's reflection. He'd glanced over to Gerald, and the pair of them shared a confused look, but neither said anything.

I chose to ignore it.

No one said anything after that. Not for a while at least. I didn't know if it was because everyone was still struggling to process what had happened, or that now that their adrenaline had left their bodies, everyone was tired, exhausted and unable to make conversation.

I was obviously the latter. Mostly.

Either way, silence filled the car like poison. The only other noises were the gentle roar from the engine, the remnants of the jazz–sounding radio and Phoebe's soft snores.

I glanced over my shoulder. She was folded up in the shadows, pressed against the door with her cheek rested on the window.

I smiled.

She looked like a kid, curled up in Gerald's sweater which fit her almost like a dress. Her skin was pale, but no longer worringly so, and the shadows beneath her eyes had long disappeared. The last of the Wraith's effects, I figured, she would sleep off before feeling normal again.

My stomach curled at that—normal. I turned away as disgusted burned in my chest. Yeah, right. If all went as I thought it would—as what I needed it to be—she wouldn't be normal. Not for a long time.

Because of you.

I pressed my forehead and basked in the coolness that soaked my skin. My heartbeat rolled through my body like dull punches, pulsating particularly in my throat, and I swallowed. The warm brass-y sound washed over me from the radio. The volume was soft but comforting. It burrowed into my neck and ears and I twisted my face to the side.

Arnold was lightly bobbing his head to the tune. He leaned forward in his seat to turn up the volume slightly, moonlight stirring over his face as he did so.

I felt myself softly smile. I'd forgotten how much he loved jazz. Totally different to my usual hard rock vibe. It made me wonder who his favourite artists were? Did he have his comfort songs? Did he have a need for comfort songs? I couldn't imagine him having the need for comfort songs. It made me realise there was still so much about Arnold I didn't know. I didn't know his favourite colour, his favourite season, what movie he wished got more attention, what one he wished got less.

My chest stung with longing. I wanted to know those things about him. I wanted to know everything about him, all those little details that came together to make the person who sat across from me. I wanted to know the man behind that heavenly glow and I . . . I wanted him to know me.

Tonight was your fault.

But I knew that couldn't be. I had to stop letting myself get swept up in my emotions for him, people always got hurt when that happened. I needed to shut the door on that part of my life, on that yearning. Sorrow sunk deep into my chest and I turned back to the window, shutting my eyes.

I needed to get my head back in the game. I needed to remember our ultimate goal, as Guardians—save everyone. And to do that, sacrifices needed to be made.

My mind lit up with an image of Phoebe. My hand curled into a fist.

Sacrifices needed to be made from all of us.

I wasn't sure how long we all stayed like this, but no one spoke again until we arrived at Phoebe's house. The car stopped with a jolt, shaking me awake, and I made a small noise before glancing up. Immediately, I recognised the sharp white house that stood intimidatingly over us, a stark contrast to the shadows that engulfed us from the night.

My heart sunk for a moment and the skin on my hands buzzed with numbness. The lights were on—her parents had been waiting for her. I sucked in a breath. Hopefully they'd both fallen asleep doing so.

Gerald switched the key in the engine and both he and Arnold turned in their seats to wake up Phoebe. But I leaned over in my chair before they could and gently shook her awake. Her shoulders hunched as her eyes fluttered open before settling on me in a cloudy look of confusion.

"We're here," I told her.

She blinked a few times before rising from her seat and looking out the window. I moved back slightly and watched as she let out a small breath when she realised that the lights were on. Her expression was reflected in her window, showcasing the disappointment that sank in her features, but when she turned around to unbuckle her seatbelt, it had been wiped clean.

"Thanks Gerald," she murmured under her breath. She didn't wait for a response before opening the door and leaving without looking back.

Arnold frowned and turned to his friend for an explanation. Gerald, on the other hand, sighed and rubbed his face. It was clear that Arnold was the only one who didn't understand what was going on.

"I'll walk her in," I said to no one in particular and quickly got out before anyone could say anything.

Slamming the door shut, I stuffed my hands into my pockets and hurried after her. The anger that had fuelled her body hadn't been enough because when I caught up to her, she was stumbling up the steps to her porch. Her hand was wrapped tight around the railing, skin practically glowing, and her chin was dipped low.

I moved beside her and wrapped an arm around her waist. She didn't fight it but kept her head down as she murmured a thanks. She leaned her weight on me, still disorientated, and I carried her up the steps. The porch light was off, but the lights from inside were on. They fled out from the blinds that covered the glass and crawled across our faces as we moved higher and higher.

"So you . . . think they'll be mad?" I asked to fill in the silence.

"Maybe," she said with a shrug. "They'll be worried more than anything."

"Which is fair, Pheebs."

She pressed her lips with disagreement but chose not to rebut against it. Because she knew that, logically speaking, I was right. Her parents had every right to worry—this time, at least.

The floorboards creaked beneath us as if in greeting as we headed for the front door.

"I won't be telling them what happened."

I raised my brows at her. "Really?"

"Yes," she said with a determined nod, a frown forming on her brow. "Doing so would be stupid, I wouldn't be allowed to leave the house for weeks."

"Touché."

"I'll just explain to them that it was an ice cream date, that I simply forgot the time," she decided with another nod. "I'd much rather sit through a lecture about how irresponsible I was, rather than one about how dangerous the world's becoming."

". . . the world's always been dangerous, Pheebs."

She didn't respond to that, which I was grateful for. Her words settled chillingly over me, it felt like frost was climbing over my brain. Fuck. I'd forgotten about Phoebe's biggest obstacle—her parents. How was she supposed to get around them? Sure, Pheebs would have abilities that would make it easier, but time was an entirely different thing. She already had so much crammed into her schedule as it was, on top of a super strict curfew, how would she fit everything else on top of that?

It felt cruel to add more stress to her life. But—

I suddenly remembered Lark throwing herself in front of Arnold and I, willing to take the hit so we wouldn't get injured. I remembered the horror I'd felt knowing I had no power to save her, knowing that as soon as the Wraith had gotten her, it would turn it's attention onto us.

Phoebe reached out for the door handle and I unwound my arm from her. I shoved my hands back into my pockets, making sure not to touch my pin. Like always, it felt like a burden.

Phoebe was still shaky. Her balance was off, and tremors ran down her skin like rain. But she had a strange look on her face; it was scrunched with concentration, and instantly I knew she was struggling.

Guilt ruptured my gut.

"You alright?" I asked her even though I already knew the answer.

She looked at me then back to her hands.

"Yes, I . . . I'm fine," she forced a grin then an awkward–sounding chuckle. "Are you?"

"Yeah," I quickly lied with a jerky nod. "Well, after I wrap up this useless thing."

I waved my wrist around, hoping to get a real laugh, but instead when Phoebe turned back to me, her lips tilted down. Her eyes hardened and I lowered my arm then stuffed my fists back into my pockets, wishing I hadn't done that.

"Helga are you sure you do not wish to go to the hospital?" she frowned. "A cut to the wrist can be serious and—"

"I told you, it's only a light one. I'll be fine," I interrupted snappishly, which normally would make someone back off. But because it was Phoebe, it had the opposite effect. She peered at me, turning to properly face me, and I uncomfortably shuffled my weight. "Well, if you're okay then I guess I'll just—"

"Helga, wait," she then reached out and grabbed onto my other wrist, turning me around and pulling me into a hug.

Her face buried into my shoulder and her arms wound tight around my waist. I balked, freezing, and stared down at her. She'd moved so suddenly I hadn't been able to counteract it. My hands twitched, moving from my pockets and hanging awkwardly over her arms, ready to push her away.

But when I looked down at her, my heart melted. Not because I'd missed her, which I had, but because . . . I knew what was to come.

My throat tightened and before I knew it, I'd wrapped my hands around her. I pulled her body into mine and propped my chin on top of her head. She smelt sweet, like coconut, and I smiled. It was her favourite scent of conditioner.

"I've missed you," she whispered and I faltered at the sound of her voice. It resembled the lightness of when she'd been a kid. It made me twitch in pain. Things had been so simple back then—when we'd been kids. We only had to worry about dramas on the playground, or the stupid antics that ensued when I'd let my emotions carry me into doing some stupid task to impress Arnold. Those problems had seemed like mountains when we were little, but now that we'd grown, I could realise that they'd been nothing bigger than pebbles.

I'd always thought my life had been sucky, and to an extent, it had been. But within a few months, I longed to go back to those days, where all the misery existed inside of my head. And though I was grateful to have Lila and Nel, it was an inescapable fact that, regardless, thing had gotten darker. I'd had to make decisions I never could've imagined myself making. Every morning I left the house, I had to make peace with the possibility that this may be the last time I walk through those doors.

And now you're choosing to put Phoebe through that.

I didn't want to. Like I said, I wish I had someone else to burden this with, but we were running out of time. Things were getting harder, our hours as Guardians were getting longer. If we wanted even the faintest a chance of defeating Acantha, we needed to recruit our other half of the team now. They would need to learn their powers, learn how to fight and learn how to wield their weapons as quickly as possible.

I tightened my hold around Phoebe.

I wanted to go back to when we were kids. I wanted to go back to when it was just the two of us. The world would swarm around us with it's problems, but we'd stand by one another because it was us against the world. Because she was my family. No one understood why she chose to stay with me, neither did I, but despite our differences, we always managed to click.

Just like magic.

Maybe that was why.

My throat tightened, wrapping around the hoarse sob that wanted to escape, but I swallowed and buried it deep down. I could feel my chest ache, thudding heart sinking deeper and deeper until it was drowning. But I ignored it—like everything, I ignored it. I kept pushing those feelings deeper and deeper until they were tangled up with the roots.

"So have I," I whispered back, realising that this was the first time that Phoebe's hugs had left me in a worse state.

Guilt twisted knots in my stomach. Because here I was again, holding someone who was about to have their whole life turned around. It was like I was contagious.

I was brought back to the present when I felt my neck begin to burn. Without looking up, I knew it was because the boys were watching from their seats in the car. Probably trying to understand what had happened to make us both so emotional within a matter of seconds. Uncomfortable, I cleared my throat and when Phoebe glanced up, I let her go and stepped back.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Pheebs."

I ducked my head as I left, quickly climbing down the stairs with my tail between my legs. I could feel everyone watching me with confusion, wondering what had made my mood swing so suddenly, and I lowered my face more. Their stares were beginning to burn into my skin. I clutched onto my pin for support, my silent cry for help reluctant but necessary. But the silence continued to hammer into me like knives.

I held my breathe and didn't look up again until I heard the door to Phoebe's house shut. Gravel crunched under my feet as I turned, catching Phoebe's shadowed figure in the shadows hanging over the window. She moved slowly, reluctantly to her parents no doubt, before disappearing as she entered the living room.

I sighed, chest sinking, and turned around to the car.

I didn't dare look at the windows and instead turned the pin over in my pocket, both hating and needing the stupid thing. I kept my chin low until I'd dragged myself back into the car, shutting the door as quietly as I could. Secretly, I felt my heart race slow the slightest bit from relief; I'd honestly been expecting Gerald to lock the door for upsetting Phoebe again. The air was tinged with tension, but thankfully no one said anything, and I shakily pulled on my seatbelt.

Gerald pulled off after that. The streetlights splashed over us in their warm–toned flashes as he drove down the street. My hands trembled and I wrapped them around my seatbelts. No one was speaking and I didn't know why. I didn't know if it was the same reason as before, or if it was because they'd seen what had happened. Did it matter that they'd seen it? What did it look like to them? How bad had it looked?

I looked up before I could stop myself. Arnold's eyes were the first thing I saw. He'd been watching me from the mirror. But as soon as he'd realised that I'd caught him, he looked away to his window and didn't dare turn back.

I swallowed then glanced to Gerald.

The kid was definitely uneasy. His fingers were tapping against the wheel, not at all matching with the radio, and he kept fidgeting. But his face was scrunched, like he was thinking really hard about something.

I looked between them then sighed and turned to my window. Whatever it was, it didn't involve me.

You shouldn't be involved with them.

I had bigger problems to worry about.

Time moved sluggishly. It felt like hours had passed before we reached my house. The entire ride had been tense, strained with silence that made everyone either fidget or sit rimrod straight in their seats. It was like if anyone said anything or disrupted the quiet, then everything would shatter into a million pieces. My stomach curled in on itself, so tight that it got hard to breathe. I didn't even feel free enough to go back to sleep, it was like the tension had made all my exhaustion dry up from my brain.

So, by the time we'd reached my house, I'd almost cried with relief. Gerald parked on the sidewalk, off by a few metres from the steps to the door and shut off the car. He then leaned back in his chair, looking straight ahead with a strange expression, and slapped his hands against his knees a couple times.

Arnold stared at him, bemused.

I swallowed thickly and unbuckled my seatbelt, scooping up my bag.

"Well, uhh," I cleared my throat, opening the door and shakily getting out. My feet pressed into the sidewalk and I wrapped my fingers around my bag. "Thanks for the—"

"Wait, I'll—" Gerald shook his head a few times, unclipping his seatbelt, and hopped out from the car. "I'll, uhh, walk with you."

His side had on the opposite side of mine, so he had to walk around from the road to meet me on the sidewalk. He was rubbing the back of his neck as he did so and jolted to a stop when he reached me. I gaped at him, seriously not expecting any of that, and Arnold actually opened his door to stare at his friend.

"You'll wha—"

"You heard me," Gerald scowled at Arnold.

I blinked a couple of times then turned to Arnold, hoping he would know what was happening. But the blonde merely shrugged, eyebrows raised similarly like mine, signifying he was just as lost as me.

"Uhh, why though?" I twisted my bag straps and turned back to Gerald. "No offense but I'm pretty alright without a beanpole to protect me."

Despite it all, Arnold grinned with amusement.

But Gerald rolled his eyes. "Jesus, I'm trying to thank you, Pataki."

Now that . . . that made us pause.

Gerald snapped his face in both our directions, noticing the sudden silence, before he grimaced. The lights scrambled across his face and even in the golden glow, I could see the blood rush to colour his cheeks a deep red.

"Uhh . . ."

Arnold gaped at him. "What?"

"Oh, fuck it," Gerald scowled, shoving his hands into his pockets, and sent a small kick to fence beside us. It rattled, sounding like a kooky laugh, and he scowled down at his shoes. If I was of sound mind, I would've laughed, recognising how much he resembled a little kid right now. But fortunately for him, I was way too taken back. "I–If it wasn't for you, Pataki, I—fuck, why is this so hard?"

If I wasn't so shocked, I'd probably offended.

Gerald sucked in a long breath then raised his face back to me.

"Pataki, it was dumb of you to go all Harry Potter on us and make yourself a distraction so we could get away," he declared, which made me frown. "Like, really dumb. Seriously. What did you think was gonna happen? That it'd get you and wouldn't come after us? Also swiping my phone wasn't—"

"Anytime you're ready, Gerald," Arnold suddenly interrupted and when Gerald sharply glanced at him, he nudged his head in my direction. Gerald frowned but paused when he saw the look on my face, which mustn't have been pretty considering the way his face fell and he had to tug nervously onto his collar to recover.

"Um, right," he cleared his throat then shrugged and nudged something I couldn't see with his foot. "Anyway, despite how stupid your plan was . . . it still bought us enough time to last until Lark showed up. And—and if it wasn't for you, I don't think Phoebe would've made it for as long as she did. So, for that I—thank you."

I stared at him . . . and stared. I tried mulling over the words he—Gerald Johannsen—had just said to me—Helga G. Pataki. Technically, this wasn't the most shocking thing to happen this week—or hell, even today—but it was still . . . unexpected. If nothing else, it was definitely the strangest.

Gerald, who was normally the epitome of confidence, was ignoring me and Arnold. His hands had moved to his hips as he continued to nudge the thing on the ground—a clump of dirt—and he studied the cracks on the concrete like they were novels.

Arnold, on the other hand, had frozen like me. His eyes were locked on his friend as he tried computing what he had just heard. Earlier before, he'd slid down his seat so the back of his head was pressed up against the back. His knees were up against the dashboard, classic teenage style, and his hands were knitted in his lap. His hair was unruly against the seat, shinning like gold in the shadows.

"I, uhh, well, I—" I felt the lump in my throat wreathe. "Cool. Um, cool. Excellent."

And then I awkwardly rocked back and forth on my toes, unsure of what to say. Arnold blinked, picking up on my uncomfortableness, and stepped in.

"Right, well, we'll get out of your hair then Helga," he said then pointedly turned to Gerald. "It's pretty late, right Gerald?"

Gerald jumped, like popping out of a trance.

"Yeah," he nodded before turning back to me. "Um, seeya I guess."

He scrambled back around the car to his side. The keys jangled as he pulled them from his pocket, but he accidentally dropped them and with a curse, he bent down to pick them up. Arnold, who'd been staring at me, playfully rolled his eyes at me with a lopsided grin.

I felt the uncomfortable tightness in my chest loosen, and a smile tug at my lips. They were both so goofy. And Arnold . . . sometimes he acted just like a Dad. It was cute.

Gerald quickly hopped into the car, jamming the keys in, and started up the engine. It roared to life, spluttering, and Arnold sent me a warm smile. My heartrate crept up, pushing its effects through my limbs. His eyes were twinkling like green stars.

"Seeya Helga," he said before shutting his door.

The car let out a choked rumble, making the darker boy flush, before he pressed down on the gas. They pulled out from the sidewalk, sailing down the streets in a rush, and left me in an empty silence.

I sighed, feeling more exhausted then before, then turned to look up at my window.

Nel was watching me.

"Now, I don't know how to break this to either of you," Nel started, ten minutes later as she paced back and forth along the window seat. The glass was shut but showcased soft city lights that rushed gleam into my room.

They flashed yellow, red and pink, raining over Lila and I, who were sat on my bed. I was propped against the headboard with a fluffy cushion on my lap, while Lila wrapped my wrist, which, as expected, was already healing fairly quickly.

I had since changed out of my school uniform into my pyjamas—a pair of shorts, a long-sleeved shirt and a pair of mismatching socks. Said redhead had also changed into her pyjamas—a large shirt which reached her thighs and a pair of dark shorts—and let her hair down from into a French braid that flopped over her right shoulder.

Her fingers were hesitant. I noticed a slight trembling to them and without asking, I knew what was still bothering her. Her encounter with her friends, Gerald and Arnold. I could sense it the moment I entered the room, where instead of greeting me with loud exclamations, she had nodded at me then returned back to her history homework.

Lila was studious, but never quiet. Not unless something was wrong. I'd wanted to confront her, but I sensed this was something she'd want to work on her own. She'd probably stress that it wasn't a big deal and not allow me to actually help her.

Besides, I thought to myself, we had bigger fish to fry.

"But what I'm about to tell you is a matter of great importance. The most importance," Nel added with a shake of her head. Her dark fur made her look like a silhouette against the flashing lights that poured from behind her. "One that must be handled delicately, especially knowing how impulsively some of us choose to act."

She shot a pointed glance in my direction.

I rose a brow, Lila looked up, and we both exchanged blank looks.

"Now brace yourselves girls," Nel continued and sat down so she could practically face us. The lights pushed her shadow dramatically against the floor, where it crawled and stretched, making her look monumental. "Because what I'm about to tell you may come as a shock, but I have finally managed to locate the whereabouts of our third Guardian. One who is very close within our vicinity. Truthfully, I have been suspecting them for a considerable amount of time, but I needed to make sure. But now I am absolutely certain that they fit the role. This Guardian is—"

"It's Phoebe," Lila interrupted as she slapped the last of my bandages down. "Isn't it?"

She rose both of her eyebrows, expression uncharacteristically sardonic, as she leaned back to prop her elbow on her knee.

"Obviously," I nodded and flexed my newly wrapped hand. The cut still throbbed slightly, but it wasn't hurting like last time.

"I, uhh—" Nel blinked. "Excuse me?"

"I mean, it's kinda obvious Nel," I said while Lila nodded her agreeance. "She literally decapitated a Wraith. Not to mention she's smarter than all of us combined."

Nel looked between us, flabbergasted.

"A Sailor Mercury if I've ever met one," Lila added and crossed her arms, dangling both her feet over the ground.

I turned to her. "A what?"

Her mouth dropped and she turned on me. "You haven't seen that show?" she then gasped with horror and reeled back. "How?!"

"Which show?"

"Sailor Moon!"

Oh.

"I dunno," I shrugged and leaned back onto my pillows, pulling the cushion off from my lap. "It's not my type of thing."

She fixed me with a hard stare.

". . . You have a talking black cat! That's a total Sailor Moon thing!" she said, throwing her hands into the air. But when she received only silence from Nel and I, she sighed with disappointment. "We're definitely watching it this weekend."

"Do I get a say in thi—"

"Girls!"

We both turned to a scowling Nel.

"Back to the task at hand," she said through gritted teeth, like she was really trying to hold herself back from saying something else. "We're going to have to recruit her before there's any more attacks."

I rolled my eyes. "Well, obviously."

I'd crossed my arms at this point, dipping my chin low so I could glare daggers at the drawstring in my shorts. But when I noticed that the conversation had paused, I looked back up to Nel and Lila both staring at me.

"What?"

"You're taking this remarkably well," Nel noted.

I frowned and opened my mouth to make a comment when Lila suddenly leaned in. The ache in my chest throbbed under her watchful eye and I fought to keep it from showing on my face. She had her brow raised, and the way she peered at me, it was like she was in an old Detective cartoon.

"I would've guessed this conclusion would have sent you into a brooding mess," she eventually suspiciously.

"Brooding mess?"

"You know, when you dwell on something misfortunate with regret or sorrow," she said with a shrug, which I found to be hypocritical coming from her. She was the one in a mood earlier. She stopped when all she got from me was a blank looked, sighed, then placed the back of her hand onto her forehead like she was a damsel.

"You know—'oh, how hard my life is! I'm going to sulk in the rain by myself and blame myself for whatever failures I've made in the past!'" Then like that, a smile broadened across her mouth and she was back to the classic teasing Lila. "You know, that type of thing."

"I do not sulk!" I gaped at her. "And my life has become hard!"

"Actually Helga," Nel piped in, thoughtfulness in her gaze. "You do tend to sulk, especially after we have conversed."

"Funny that."

Her gaze morphed into a scowl.

"Not to mention your affinity for dark clothing," Lark said, gesturing to some of the clothes that littered my floor. She looked down at them then pulled a face, and though I tried to keep frowning, I couldn't stop smiling slightly.

"Especially that awful hoodie," Nel agreed, pulling an even more disapproving look, and Lila nodded her agreement.

"Okay, I get it," I put up my hands, calling an official end to this roast session. I tried keeping the grin off my mouth, but it was hard, the throbbing in my chest had numbed considerably. The joyful feeling doubled when I looked back to them and found the pair of them smiling at me, amusement twinkling from their eyes.

"You're real comedians," I chuckled and shoved a giggling Lila with my foot. "But can we just stick to the topic? How're we supposed to tell Pheebs?"

Their smiles then faded, and they exchanged similar looking glances. Something passed between them; I wasn't sure if it was a telepathic thing I was missing or if they'd discussed it in advance. But when they turned back to me, they appeared very sure of themselves.

I gulped, knowing I was in for something.

Oh, brother.

The next day, I found Phoebe exactly where I expected her to be.

She was bent at the waist, digging through her locker for one of the hundred textbooks she had buried in there. Her back was turned to the hallway and—checkmate—she was alone.

I took it as my opening and marched across the shiny floors, shoes echoing with my long strides, then pivoted on my heel and slammed back against the locker next to her. I grimaced, my back ringing from the conclusion, but quickly raised the book in my hands to cover my face before she could look.

"Helga?" Phoebe glanced up with surprise, but I kept my nose buried, as if she hadn't spoken to me. "What are you—"

"Shh," I feigned interest in my novel, no idea what the fuck it was even talking about, and tilted my head like I'd read something ravishing. "You don't know me."

I flipped the page and, as I did so, I skimmed over the top of the book at the feet that passed us in both directions. I wanted to make sure no sneaky gossips had stopped to listen in on this very important, highly classified message I was about to give her.

"Uhh, but I do?" she blinked then straightened up, hugging her books to her chest. "Helga, you're being weird."

I flipped another page.

"Schoolroofatthree," I murmured from the corner of my mouth. "Don't be late, okay?"

I snapped the book shut, not sparing her a glance, and swung my fists as I went to make my exit.

". . . What?"

And, like clockwork, I came running back and slammed myself back into the lockers, which thundered from the collusion. I gritted my teeth—okay, that had hurt—and reluctantly resumed my position. I scrambled to open the book again, but this time I looked pointedly over the pages at Phoebe. Her hair was tied up today in a deep blue scrunchie, revealing her circular face, smooth like a marble. She merely stared at me, forehead crinkling into a confused frown.

"Schoolroofatthree," I rushed out through my teeth. "Don't be late, okay?"

She blinked again, like her eyelashes were about to take flight.

"I . . . have no idea what you just said."

Exasperated, I face palmed.

"Hey, Pheebs!"

We both turned to the right.

I balked, heart freezing in my chest. No, not them.

It was Eugene and Nadine. They stood shoulder to shoulder, broad grins on their face as they headed in our direction. Nadine had her braids tied in a high ponytail, which cascaded down her back in tiny golden ropes, and she wore a wide happy grin as she waved at Phoebe. Some people glanced over at her in annoyance, but she remained oblivious.

She paused when she noticed me.

"Oh—hey Helga!"

I groaned, this time choosing to face palm with my book . . . which I forgot was a hardcover.

"Whatcha readin'?" Nadine asked, grinning obliviously as she and Eugene settled in front of us.

I looked up and frowned when I met their stares.

"Are you reading?" Eugene asked with a teasing smirk.

"Well, duhh, look—book!" I glared and gestured to the book in my hands.

"Aren't books supposed to be read the right side up?"

What?

I frowned and, along with Phoebe and Nadine, glanced down at said book. I blushed when I realised tht the book was, in fact, upside down.

Nice one, Helga. Mark of a true genius.

"Ugh!" I chucked the book down at the floor then whirled around to Phoebe, who jumped. "Pheebs, meet me on the school roof at three. Lila and I wanna talk to you."

Then I swung around and marched away before anyone could open their glob to say anything more. But I caught Eugene biting down on his lip to stop himself from laughing and growled, feeling smoke rise from my ears.

Smooth, Pataki. Real smooth.

I proceeded to stomp down the hallway, ignoring the blatant stares that I got, when I heard Nadine shout for me.

"Do you want your book back?!"

"Oh, piss off!"

I groaned into my palm when I heard all three cackling behind me, obviously finding my brief lapse in judgement to be highly amusing, and quickly scrambled back to Lila's side. She was exactly where I'd left her, leaning up against the lockers at the end of the hallway.

Her hair was tied up in a smooth, large bun today, sleek like glass, and her uniform appeared so straight it almost seemed crisp. She was wearing the choker today and the green jewels interwoven in the loops beamed at me. Lila had an amused smirk, barely holding back from laughing, and her eyes shone with amusement.

She clucked her tongue. "Nice one."

"Shut up."

The day went agonisingly slow.

Seconds passed like hours; hours passed like days. Walking out from second period today, I'd felt like I'd aged twenty years. It didn't help that my heart wouldn't stop pounding throughout the class, or that I had begun trembling like a leaf.

I wanted to pretend that it was something else. That maybe I was just nervous that I'd forgotten another bundle of homework—almost guaranteed at this point, despite Lila's efforts—or that the day was passing slow because of the excruciatingly boring lessons. But I wasn't the greatest liar, not even to myself. It was a shitty one to begin with.

Today was how it was because . . . of the thing. I couldn't bring myself to outwardly admit it, even in my thoughts, so I just chose to refer to it as, well, The Thing. Yes, capitals were included and essential.

But anyway, Thursdays sucked and sure, it wasn't uncommon for me to act paranoid in class anymore, but it had really been dialled up today. Because, you know, by the end of the day I'd be confessing to my best friend in the whole wide world that I was secretly a superhero she'd seen parading around in basically her underwear with a talking cat as my sidekick. Oh, and that I needed her to join my team. Otherwise bad things would happen. Like, action movie apocalypse bad things.

No—no, scratch that. Worse things would happen. Lila and I were a great duo, but . . . that was exactly it—we were a duo. We were stretched far too thin. There needed to be more of us. Our abilities were growing, but it was impossible to keep doing what we were doing when there was only two of us.

I didn't want what had happened last night to happen again.

"Where's Blue Jay? A–And Lark?"

I gulped, feeling my heart shudder, and pressed my forehead into my hands.

". . . Blue Jay—she'll be here."

There needed to be more of us.

"She will."

My vision began to burn. A lump rose in my throat as those evergreen eyes filled my mind again. My body ached thinking about him. I could barely look at him today. How could I? How could I look at him, knowing how much I'd disappointed him? Know that I'd put him and his friends in danger? He'd been expecting me—Blue Jay—to be there and, of course, I'd failed.

"I admire Blue Jay."

Failed him.

"Her strength and perseverance . . . they're phenomenal."

I tried shaking my head of his voice, but then my mind infused with another image. It was a figure, cloaked in shadows but outlined in a pouring of green light. Their back was too me, but it was tense, and their arms were pushed out on either side of them. They stood on their knees, still tall, and jutted out their chin as they waited for something charging for them.

I trembled.

Lark.

She'd almost died last night. I knew that Guardians were strong, our bodies were designed to take on a lot of damage, but claws to a face would have seriously injured her. And it wasn't likely that the Wraith would've stopped after—

A violent shudder ran up my throat. Heat climbed around my collar. I heard Lila fidget next to me and before I could help it, I glanced in her direction. She was looking at me, forehead crinkled and lips pressed together, more than aware that something was on her mind.

I tried not to let that bother me. The fact that she was so ready to play girly best friend, to check up on me when it was obvious that she herself was still going through something. I still hadn't worked out for sure what it was, but my gut told me it was what I'd assumed last night, and also her near death experience last night.

Lark was a phenomenal fighter; I had no problem admitting that anymore. It had saved my ass more than I could count. Lila was a quick learner, an even quick thinker, and never mind bearing the labour of being a part time superhero—it was her dream. I hadn't seen horror sink through her like it had me, which at first had bothered me, but now I admired. I'd wished to be like her, to treat this duty as a blessing in hopes that maybe it would aid me in becoming a better fighter. But, as it turned out, I wasn't built like that. I had my limits apparently.

I'd thought Lila did too. I'd thought she'd really been made for this life, up until last night. She'd tried not to let it show, but I could see that dazed look in her eye. I could see that far off look she got whenever her mind was flashing back to last night, how close she'd come to losing everything last night.

It was finally sinking in what this job entailed.

And it hurt to see in her.

I think that was also she was less sensitive about Phoebe becoming one of us. Like me, she knew we needed numbers, she knew we couldn't dilly dally any longer with this. We needed to take our jobs seriously, so we were never left in a situation like that again.

"Where's Blue Jay?"

I subtly shook my head at her, signifying I was alright, then turned to the front of the classroom.

Arnold, Gerald, Phoebe . . . they wouldn't have been in danger if it weren't for me. Lila wouldn't have been in danger if it weren't for me. Everyone would've been safe in their beds, their biggest worries the classes they'd been forced to take. Not bullshit like that.

"—I swear on anything and everything I hold dear—"

I needed to make sure that shit never happened again. I couldn't do that if we didn't recruit Phoebe.

"—I will protect you all!"

I was Blue Jay. And my first job, above all else, was to protect everyone. I'd been given forcefields for fuck's sake. It was only thing I knew how to do. I was the leader of the Guardians and I'd let Lila almost die last night on my watch.

I laid my chin down on my hands, glaring daggers at the bottom of someone's seat.

Not again. I refuse to let that happen. Not to Lila, not to Gerald, not to Nel and . . . not to Arnold. So, if that meant I'd have to recruit my best friend, practically my sister, then so be.

Besides, I thought to myself, this could—no, it would suit her. Phoebe would be a good asset to the team. More than a good one—a great one. She was the smartest person I knew. She'd fit right in, I knew it.

I was brought back to earth by the sudden sounds of groaning.

I blinked, glancing up then looking around as the students around us pulled soured faces, some diving to press their faces against their desks.

I frowned then turned to Lila.

Her arms were folded on her desk, neck arrow straight as she watched Ms. Hartman explain something away. Arnold sat next to her, rubbing the bridge of his nose with an equally upset look as everyone else.

"Ms. Hartman just announce another assignment," Lark answered my silent question, not dragging her gaze away from the front as she whispered from the corner of her mouth.

"What, another one?" I hissed back in silent outraged.

Arnold glanced back at us, one side of his mouth lifting up in a half smile.

"Yeah, it's weird, it's almost like we're in school or something," Lila whispered back, this time turning to face me. "You would know if you weren't brooding so hard."

Oh, criminy.

"I do not—"

"Ladies."

A sharp voice directed at us cut across the room. Lila and I both stopped then looked up to find Ms. Hartman glaring at us.

She was dressed in a wheat coloured dress, and a red shawl covered her shoulders and biceps. Her hair was shoved back with a black headband and several large bangles were placed on her freckled arms.

But despite her vibrant look, her glare cut like glass.

"Are we interrupting something?" she asked pointedly. She placed her hands on her hips, and the bangles clattered loudly from the movement.

Blood rush to cover both of our faces and we quickly shook our heads. I grimaced when I heard people around us quietly snicker and lowered my face, so I was staring at my open book. I moved my hair so that it covered my face and began drawing random shapes in the border, trying to ignore the heat in my cheeks.

I heard Ms. Hartman clear her throat, gathering her composure, as her bangles clacked together from her moving hands.

"Right, so as I was saying—you'll have two weeks to pick a classic story, rework it and hand it back in. Any questions?" she looked around the room as multiple hands shot into the air. "Oh and no, you do not get to pick your partners."

Groans sounded again and hands slipped back down.

"Alright," Ms. Hartman pulled out a sheet of paper from her desk then nosily gestured around the room. "Paula, you're with Adrien—Carmen, your partner is Troy—Carly, you have—"

I groaned, dropping my pencil. "Great. Just what I need."

"Hey, it might not be that bad," Arnold said, poking his head around Lila's shoulder. She stopped, turning to stare at him, and looking between us, he plastered on a cheery smile. "You might get one of us."

I flushed. Not because . . . of the obvious but because . . . well, Arnold just looked really good right now. I mean, yeah, he looked good all the time but especially now. His hair was fluffier, his smile broader and his arms . . .

I pressed my lips together.

He had one arm propped against his desk, the other hanging over his seat as he twisted around to face us. He'd earlier rolled his sleeve up to his elbows, exposing his forearms and they . . . erm, they looked super . . . fantastic.

I looked away.

God damn it. Why was it his arms that did things to me? No, screw that, why did anything of his have to do things to me? His arms were my ultimate weakness . . . aside from his hair. Especially those strands that always hung over his eyes, desperately needing someone else to brush them aside and—

Stop right there, Pataki.

I shook my head, mind clouded with increasingly dark thoughts. This was why I'd been avoiding him. One spontaneous look from him always sent me into a blubbery mess. It was getting sad at this point.

You literally almost got caught last ni—

Okay, thank you conscience.

I quietly groaned to myself and propped my jaw into my palm. Fuck sad, this was outright pathetic. I was arguing with myself.

"—Rhonda has Helga—"

If I didn't get control of these stupid hormones, then pretty soon things would escalate to—

Wait.

"What?!"

Two shrieks came from both ends of the room, soon encompassed by the sounds of chairs scrapping against the floor as we both shot to our feet.

Rhonda was on the opposite end of the room, up at the front with her friends. Her blazer was folded neatly and propped so it was hanging from her chair. She had earlier shoved her sleeves up to her elbows, loosening her collar so the first two buttons were undone (despite the dress code preventing us from doing this).

Our movements happened at the same time so we both looked at each other, pulled faces then tuned to Ms. Hartman.

"You cannot be serious," I said then placed my hands down on the table.

"Uh, yes I am," Ms. Hartman responded slowly, bemused. "Sorry girls, is there a problem?"

"Uh, yeah and she's sitting up at the back," Rhonda snapped and gestured harshly in my direction. "Up with the rest of the golden girls."

Lila's eyebrows snapped into a frown. "Hey."

Arnold crossed his arms, looking equally offended, but didn't say anything.

"Can we please have different partners?" I ignored the both of them, looking pleadingly at my favourite teacher in the whole wide world, hoping she'd be understanding about my totally valid request.

Intrigued eyes snapped between us.

"I'm sorry girls, but the pairs have already been made. If I switch you two then everyone else will be coming to me to request they get to change as well," Ms. Hartman said with an apologetic shrug. "And besides, Ms. Ainsley has informed me how well you two work together."

I . . . wanted to maim something.

"Of course she did," I muttered to myself and scowled at the roof, imagining it was Ainsley's big stupid head so I could shoot laser at it with my eyes.

"Now if you two don't mind, I'd like to finish reading people's pairs," Ms. Hartman said, somewhat chidingly. She then cleared her throat and continued to sound off more names. But I don't think as many as people were paying attention now. Not only had the majority already been read off, but it apparently was intriguing to watch Rhonda and I, as if they expect something to happen right now.

Well, nothing did. Of course. Obviously. We were in class and apparently working together.

I groaned at the thought and plopped back down into my seat. Rhonda copied my movements. I glared at her. She glared back. We both crossed our arms over our chest, it was like looking into a mirror, and, offended, we pulled faces then turned away.

I scowled at a random blotch of colour on the sea green wall across from me. I tried pushing all of the ugly traces of anger I felt onto that. Mentally, of course.

From the corner of my eye, I could spot Rhonda's friends rushing to comfort her as quietly as they could without getting caught.

I sighed. My friends on the other hand . . .

"Talk about jinxing it," Lila said with a teasing smirk. She paused when I turned around to glare and her, paling slightly, and moved backwards, forcing a giggle. "Erm, kidding. Just kidding, Helga."

I must've looked angry to get Lila of all people to back off. Even Arnold directed his attention to the front of the room. I didn't feel bad though. Because I was angry. I was furious.

Seriously? Of all forms of life that chose to breathe in this room, I got stuck with her? The spoilt rich bitch herself? I rolled my eyes, lacing my fingers with one another so I wouldn't pull out my hair. I'd rather drink a bucket of glass then work on this stupid assignment with her.

I chose not to speak for the rest of class. I didn't want to. I didn't trust myself. All I wanted to do was get out of this chair, run into the fields and scream out my frustration. But obviously, I couldn't do that so I settled for silence.

I kept glaring at the blotch on the wall. My skin felt like it was on fire as I did so. Like acid bubbling beneath—burning and potent. People moved away from me when they saw my expression. Normally that offended me, but I couldn't care less right now.

The bell could not have come soon enough and when it did, it sounded like a heavenly choir. People jumped from their seats, packed up their things and raced out the door in a tirade to meet up with their friends.

I was much slower in getting ready to leave. I moved sluggishly, feeling like I was weighed down by iron, and was putting my books away when Aphrodite herself decided to approach.

She slammed her hands down on my table, right in front of me. Like the drama queen she was.

"Rhonda?" Arnold had been putting on his bag when she appeared. He and Lila paused, looking at her with bewilderment. "What're yo—"

"Library. This afternoon," Rhonda interrupted without looking his way. Her molten eyes poured into mine, igniting like whiskey, and she leaned down to appear intimidating. "We'll pick a stupid story then be on our way. Capiche?"

I however was not intimidated.

"Can't," I said and crossed my arms, making sure not to touch her as I leaned back in my chair. Rhonda hated being touched. That was the number one thing about her. Even with her friends, she was very finicky about physical contact. The anger burned in me, but even I didn't want to risk Rhonda's wrath. It was the one thing about her that could send her into a rage that wasn't born from her love for attention.

I pretended that my heart hadn't dropped at the idea of accidentally grazing her fingers and tilted my chin. Rhonda's eyebrows twitched as I gazed back with challenge. "I've got plans."

"Well, cancel them," she snapped, fingers digging into the desk. "I don't want to spend any more time near you then I have to."

"And you think I do?" I actually laughed then stood from my seat to pull my bag onto my shoulder. The chair made an ugly noise as it was pushed back, and I could spot Arnold and Lila grimacing from the corner of my eye. Rhonda kept her gaze levelled with mine. "I can't cancel my plans. We can just meet tomorrow in the library instead."

It was a good compromise. But Miss Snootytwoshoes apparently took issue with it.

She barked a chilling laugh. "You're actually telling me what to do?"

"I'm offering a solution," I snarled through gritted teeth.

"I've got a better solution," Rhonda responded by stepping backwards, crossing her arms over her chest. "Get it over with today."

"And I told you that I can't," I snapped and a flash of fury sparked in her eyes. She pressed her lips together, eyebrows rising in that Rhonda way where she felt challenged and needed to lash out before she lost a fight. And with the black that lined the rims of her eyes, I hated to admit it, but she did look kind of intimidating.

It didn't help that she was taller than me.

I stepped backwards and pinched my nose, forcing a long breath. Frustration and bitterness were joining to claw from my stomach and my fingers twitched to really let loose on Rhonda. Because of course, it was her who unknowingly wanted to drag me away from my Guardian duties.

"Look, we just have to pick a story—I can write it," I declared before she could interrupt. "Can you manage that?"

Lila and Arnold, who had been looking between us, froze and turned to me with disapproval when I said that. Clearly, they weren't fans of the idea of me taking on all of the work. I shrugged, honestly not minding it. I happened to like this subject and this assignment would be a breeze.

Plus, getting her royal highness out of my vicinity was worth the extra work.

Rhonda fell silent, considering this. Her expression slackened, lines disappearing from her face, and her lips thinned into a line. Her eyes felt like lasers, blasting forth scorn into mine, as she looked for any flinching sign of me taking back my offer.

I didn't.

She lightly touched her forehead, breathing a reluctant sigh, then moved a hand down her hair. The long strands ran down her neck like aged mahogany, not a wisp out of place. She composed herself like she was the Queen of England—unsurprisingly, considering how she acted—then clucked her tongue.

"Fine, whatever. We can meet tomorrow," she said with a jerk of her face. I breathed, relieved we had arrived at somewhat of a compromise. But then she moved around the desk, walking until she stood in front of me. I clamped my mouth shut, having to reel back my neck to meet her piercing gaze, and tried not to let the height difference bother me. "Do not get in my way, Pataki."

I felt my jaw clench, a growl developing in my chest, when she suddenly spun around. Her hair flew up and smacked me in my face, so I was left splattering as she made her dramatic exit, giggling friends joining her sides.

I let loose a frustrated squeal, yanking the last of the hair from my mouth, then turned to Lila and Arnold. Lila wasn't even looking at me; she was looking at her watch, as if she'd been timing the whole thing. And Arnold had that classic half–lidded gaze, less than impressed.

Together, they looked like two very exhausted parents.

I chose to ignore that.

"Can you believe that girl?!" I ranted, flicking my wrist in her direction. "What a—what a—w–what a complete brat! She makes me just wanna—ugggh—you do–you don't even wanna know what she makes me want to do."

Their faces didn't change the entire time I ranted. Something I should've expected considering how supportive they were. Lila glanced up from her watch, looking like I'd repeated this exact story a hundred times, then exchanged a quick glance with Arnold.

"What?!" I angrily exclaimed. "Aren't you going to say something?"

"I'm shivering in my boots, Helga," Lila said before hooking her arm through mine. "But let's go, we'll be late for biology."

Oh, as if today couldn't get any worse.

But as we rushed out the door, I heard Arnold mutter to himself, "Gerald's gonna love this."

Criminy.

Students poured out from the dance hall in large clumps. They were dressed in similar shades of loose clothing, wet with sweat, and their hair tied up and out of their faces. They were exhausted but their eyes lit up whenever someone would make a teasing remark about their classes.

I watched as they moved down the hall, unknowingly passing me when they reached the gap in the alcove. I stood against the wall, next to the lockers, with my hands buried in my pockets and foot propped up behind me.

The girls chattered obliviously, feet echoing against the floor. Without looking, I knew exactly where they were. I didn't step out from my spot until I heard them turning the corner and out of sight. Then, letting out a smooth hiss of air, I pushed off from the wall and headed for the doors.

My sneakers were squeaking. it pierced my ears and made my gut cramp. I swallowed. I wrapped my hands into damp fists then loosened them. Tremors ran down my knees. I ignored it all and pressed on quicker.

I reached the door, but before I could pull it open, something inside me dropped.

"I trust you have noticed we have a new face amongst us."

My heart.

"Let's introduce her to one of my favourite games."

It had pushed deep into my stomach, where it pounded and pounded and pounded until it was like someone had punched a hole into me. Dryness swelled in my throat. I swallowed again, biting the inside of my cheek.

"Improvisation."

I was nervous. Why was I nervous?

"It's open, Helga."

Her muffled voice made me jumped, heart flying into my throat. Blood rushed and crashed in my knees, and it took me a second to gather the meaning of her words. I hesitated, pulsing striking my temples and crushing my wrists, and stared at the door for a moment.

The memories were singed into my brain. They burned a deep red, scorching me like hot poker. I wanted to turn and run, never return to this section of the school or, hell, dance again. But I knew I had to be here. It wasn't to dance again; it was to set the record straight. I let out a long, terse breath, schooled my face and opened the door.

Ms. Fournier, as expected, was alone.

She stood against her desk, stacking her CD's on top of one another. Her back was to me; she wore a purple cardigan and loose grey sweatpants, hair pinned up in a large, fluffy bun. Sunlight poured in from the windows, fusing with her curls and pinning her shadow to the ground.

I stopped and marvelled at the space around us. It looked exactly how it should've. There wasn't a fraction of dust out of place. I was surprised, it felt like so much had happened in here last night. But maybe I'd been mistaken. The memories involving the Wraith had darkened during the night, washing up in steel flashes in my dreams, and because of that, I'd expected the dance hall to reflect those horrors. But it looked exactly the same, like nothing had even happened last night.

It even smelled of peaches.

Lila really had worked fast last night.

"Helga," Ms. Fournier said in greeting, but didn't turn.

I felt my pulse freeze around my neck.

"I, umm—hi."

There was a pause. I knew it was brief, but it felt agonisingly long. The air became chains, wrapping around my throat so I couldn't breathe, move or talk, while Ms. Fournier moved her stack to the corner of her desk. She laid her fingers on the surface, rolling back her shoulders then turned around to face me.

Her face was blank, in a way I could never hope to make mine, but her eyes were penetrative.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?" she asked like we were in some middle-aged fantasy. She tilted her chin a fraction, moving her eyebrows up with challenge as she folded her arms.

"I . . . um, well, I—" I squeezed my fists by my sides. Ms. Fournier pursed her lips, narrowing her gaze, and I quickly shoved them behind my back. "I wanted to talk to you . . . actually."

She rose a brow as if to say I know dummy.

I swallowed, sheepishly.

"I . . . well, it's about, I—" I cringed then tried again. "Right, well, I . . . I just wanted to say that—"

"You've decided not to join the dance team."

I paused.

"I, uh . . . yeah. How did you know?"

Again, she raised a brow.

"Your first and only session ended with your running from the room and not returning—" I flushed and looked to the ground. "—and now you've entered my studio, stuttering and unable to make eye contact for more then a few seconds. It isn't a hard conclusion to make."

I rubbed the back of my neck, finding myself unable to look back to her.

"I, er—sorry?" I cringed then forced myself to raise my chin, but not my gaze. Still looking at my shoes, I jerked my thumb over my shoulder. "I'll just, erm, leave th—"

"It's a shame, really."

I stopped. The breath in my chest came to a halt. My mind spun, wondering if I'd heard her correctly. Then slowly, I turned back around to face her.

"What?"

She had placed one hand behind her on the table as she tilted her head to the side. The sunlight behind her sparkled, but I could make out the way her eyes crept up slowly—analytically. It reminded me of Phoebe.

"I said it was a shame," she repeated with a shrug. "You had potential."

"But I . . . I ran out."

"Yes, but not before actually trying. Regardless if you fell, you still moved adequately despite wearing what you did," she added with a slight smirk. My skin burned and I went to drop my gaze when she suddenly nodded, as if to hook my attention back to her face. "And besides, Chloe is adamant that you possess the ability to actually attune yourself with the music."

I did look down this time.

She paused, taking her time to scrutinise me before continuing.

"But if that's what you want then certainly, you aren't required to sign up," she shifted the weight between her feet to stand upright. "Although I would hope it's not because of that small mishap. Everyone gets nervous."

"No, I—I have stuff."

I cringed, remembering how that excuse had worked last time, and glanced up apologetically.

She merely cocked a brow. "Stuff?"

"Yes. Just . . . other commitments."

Tension crept into the air.

She pursed her lips, something hardening in her eyes, and I looked back to the ground. Blood thundered in my ears. I wrung my hands. The strained state in the air swept over me in a ghostly chill, the hairs on my neck stood straight.

I heard her move. My stomach turned. Her footsteps were sharp, echoing against the floorboards, and her shadow stretched like water. I saw it before a saw her—an elegant black silhouette that, despite being dressed in sweatpants, made me feel like I was watching an ethereal Queen glide in my direction.

She stopped mere feet in front of me. I looked back up and she folded her hands calmly in her lap.

"And what about when this stuff runs out?" she asked in a voice that became so quiet it sounded like a whisper. It surprised me. Ms. Fournier spoke clear and loud, like she was reciting poetry. But now her voice had turned soft, like baby pink petals. "What about when you no longer have those other commitments?"

Her eyes met mine, different this time. Usually they were blank vessels, mahogany pools that were as deep as they were empty. But now there was something that swam in them—something solemn.

Those eyes held a truth, a secret, that she refused to convey through her face. Something about them stung, but simultaneously it pulled me in. I couldn't shake the feeling that was another layer to her words. That maybe she knew more than what she was saying.

I ducked my head, thinking of an answer to give her. To give to myself. Because honestly, I hadn't even considered what would happen after those commitments were . . . taken care of. The thought of getting through all of this—alive—had never occurred to me. I'd learnt to shut off those thoughts so I wouldn't be distracted, deterred from my goal.

But now that it was being brought up . . .

I thought it about. I thought about where we had started from, where we were going. I still could remember all those throbbing bruises, those heavy bags underneath my eyes, the blood that had caked underneath my nails. I'd pushed myself so hard in the beginning—the minute I found out what this job actually entailed.

My nights had become sleepless, so I would use them to my advantage and train myself raw. I became so acquainted with the training room that that became my home. My spine had gone rigid had the thought of going back there, but I kept going anyway because that was the only option I'd had.

But now . . .

Red hair lit up like candles in my mind.

I had Lark—Lark. I had someone else to rely on. For the first time. I had someone who I didn't have to keep being strong in front of. I had someone who caught me when I'd fall, or who didn't mind putting in extra work so I could rest.

I had a comrade. A friend.

And for the first time since all of this started, I felt like I had a fighting chance. That there was a possibility that I could have a future after this. And . . .

I felt a smile tug at the corner of my lips.

I had enjoyed those moments when I'd dance in front of everyone. A rush of warmth had swept through me, in a way I hadn't felt before. It swept through me like a breeze and melted the knots in my joints. I was doing something that I loved, something that had no relation to Blue Jay. I was letting go and—dancing. I'd never thought I'd do it in front of other people and doing so felt like I'd marked something off of an unnamed checklist.

And it'd felt even better with Chloe. Dancing with her, it had made me so happy. For the first time in months, I'd smiled without any weight, like I didn't have everyone's lives depending on me.

I'd felt normal.

"I—" I rose my eyes back to Fournier. Something sparked in her eyes. "I think that . . . when I'm finished . . . could I possibly have another trial?"

I trailed off, expecting rejection. I was sending her mixed signals; I wouldn't blame her for putting her foot down and saying no, that she didn't like being bothered like this and to stop wasting her time. But instead, she . . . smiled. Like, actually smiling. It was small but there. And it wasn't just in her mouth.

It was a gentle glow in her eyes, the deepening in her dimples. Her brow smoothed and wistfully, she nodded. I nodded back, not really understanding what had happened, but knowing that whatever it was, it had been good.

She tugged on her sleeves then moved around me. A fresh scent trailed behind her as she did so. It was soft and comforting. I tried placing it but she moved too quickly and with another backward glance, she swept out of the room.

I stood there for a moment.

Alone.

The peach flavoured air flowed around me. My heart hammered but not like before. It wasn't with a rush of nervousness that pushed butterflies into my stomach. It was caused from elation, where a sense of lightness rushed to sink into the lungs, and the air tasted sweeter.

I turned to the window and watched as the clouds sluggishly moved across the golden sky. A softness buzzed in my chest, melting the weight that had frozen in my shoulders. I found myself moving forward until I was in the light. It rushed over me like champagne and my shadow slipped behind me. I sucked in a breath. The air felt so clear, like before it'd been smoke, and felt it swell like hope in my chest.

I shut my eyes.

I could see it all in my mind. I could see us—the whole team—standing in the daylight, golden light burning around us, so we became black silhouettes. The sunlight would burn beneath my fingers, shivering and dancing across my skin. I could see us crowding together, having made it out of this thing.

I could see us living through Acantha's attack.

I could see us living.

I released a breath, feeling like I was stepping into daylight for the first time.

And smiled.

The rest of the day went by relatively quickly. Actually, scratch that—tremendously quickly. Extraordinarily. Alarmingly. The first half of the day was a drag, but the second jolted by so quickly that I was left dazed, mind spinning. Oh, and concerned. But calm. Yep. Totally calm.

Currently we were waiting for Phoebe to show up in the exact spot we'd told her to find us—on the roof. Lila was on the bench, ankles crossed like she was royalty and hands neatly folded on her lap.

Her face was blank and lips slightly downturned. I couldn't tell if she was still upset—about, well, everything—or if it was just general exhaustion. But her mood hadn't improved much since this morning. I think she wanted to get this over with so she could quickly call it a day. Couldn't blame her, I secretly hoped for that as well.

Nel was crouched beside her and they both watched as I paced up a storm, eyes trained onto my movements like they were watching a sports game.

"She isn't here. Why isn't she here?" I hissed as I shoved my hands through my hair. "Did she forget? Was she held up? It was probably one of her geek sessions—god, those stup–those stupid geeks! Don't they know that they're preventing the next Guardian fro–from existing? Imbeciles!"

"You're overreacting," Nel said.

"Yes, she probably just got held up," Lila agreed with a glance at her watch. "It's only been a few minutes."

I stopped, letting her words sink in.

"Yeah, you're probably right," I nodded frantically to myself when a thought occurred and I gasped in horror, spinning around. "Unless you're not. What if she wasn't simply held up? What if she ran into trouble? Wha—what if—an attack! A big one!"

"There haven't been any screams," Lila pointed out, adopting a half–lidded expression that reminded me of Arnold's.

I frowned. Wasn't she supposed to be the empathetic one?

"Okay, fine, no Mutants, but you know who doesn't need any screaming to just appear? Serec." I stabbed my finger in their direction. "And it's been a while since we've seen him—what if he wanted to make a grand entrance? What better way to announce his presence then kidnapping the best friend of his enemy?!"

Nel tilted her head. "I could think of a way."

"I've got several," Lila added.

I ignored them.

"Oh, she's too young for this! He could be doing anything to her!" I cried, running my hands back over my hair as I spun fast on the balls of my feet. But then I gasped again which made Nel and Lila jump. "Like—like encasing her in a prison of ice! Or sticking her in the middle of a blizzard! Or—or dangling her over hundreds of poisonous starving alligators with tongues that set people on fire!"

"Oh, don't be stupid Helga, Serec would never do something like that," Nel snapped. "He would never use something like fire."

"Yes, because that's the major flaw in this scenario," Lila said with a roll of her eyes.

The look on her face quickly dropped when she glanced back in my direction. Nel shrieked and quickly jumped out of the way as I launched myself at them. My knees smacked against the bench and Lila held up her hands. But I bypassed them and quickly grabbed onto her shoulders, shaking them furiously.

"She could be getting devoured by millions of psychotic wasps right now!"

"Where did the wasps—"

"We have to go find her!"

The door suddenly swung open.

It let out a low groan as it did so which made all three of us freeze. I felt my grip loosen slightly before we all glanced to our left, letting out gasps when the door opened to reveal Phoebe. She had one arm stretched out, hand wrapped around the handle, and a puzzled expression.

Her other hand was wrapped around her bag strap, belonging to the black leather bag on her back. She had her white socks pulled straight up to her knees and the ends of her sleeves sloped over her wrists. And her hair was still tucked into that scrunchie, though it was slightly dishevelled like she'd raced to get here.

Her forehead crinkled as her gaze swept over us.

"Helga, Lila . . . what are you two doing?" she asked as she cautiously approached us. "Also sorry for my tardiness, Nadine wanted to run by some equations."

We stared at her. Silently. Just letting everything kinda sinking in, which made her uncomfortably shuffle her weight. Then, I felt Nel and Lila look at me, their gazes morphing into scowls.

Sheepishly, I smiled and let go of Lila.

"So, what did you need me for?" Phoebe asked and as she moved closer, the orange haze crashed over her. Her shadow fell across the ground until it stretched even taller than ours. "And since when have you had a cat, Helga? I wasn't under the impression you liked animals, let alone cats."

Technically I still didn't.

"Uhh, actually I, uhh, wanted to talk to you about something," I stuttered and suddenly felt very, very nervous. I hadn't actually thought any of this through. I hadn't planned out how I was supposed to say this. Or even what I was supposed to say.

"Well, yes I assumed you did," Phoebe smiled and playfully rolled her eyes. "So, what is it Helga?"

I suddenly felt all eyes turn to me.

"Um . . ."

Lila sighed, rubbing her face, then turned back to Phoebe and plastered on a friendly smile.

"Why don't you have a seat, Phoebe?" she asked and patted the space beside her.

Phoebe hesitated. She looked at me and lifted a brow, as if asking if she should, and I nodded. She pursed her lips, looking oddly disappointed, but obeyed and took the spot beside Lila. Well, kinda. She left enough space for me, in case I wanted to join, and folded her hands on her lap. But instead, I leaned over Lila's shoulder to mutter from the corner of my mouth, "Okay, Chris Hansen."

Lila scowled. "At least I'm trying."

Phoebe cleared her throat awkwardly. "So . . ."

"Oh, right, of course," and like that, Lila's face formed into another pleasant looking mask. A small smile stretched in the corners of her lips, but it didn't reach her eyes. She turned in her seat to face phoebe and I suddenly realised that she was taller than her. Lila was relatively small, but next to Phoebe, she seemed normal sized.

I smirked, slipping away and crossing my arms.

"This'll be good," I murmured.

Nel shot me a dirty look but I ignored her.

Lila's eyes flickered in my direction, but she didn't drop her smile and quickly turned back to Phoebe.

"Well, Phoebe, it's . . . you see, there's a—um . . . well—right, um, I—" she blushed, looking to her lap as she sheepishly rubbed her neck. "Gosh, how do you say this?"

"Oh, yeah," I snickered. "Great job."

"Once again," Lila snapped as she whirled around to me. "I'm the one trying here."

"Well, you're the people person."

"You're her best friend!"

"Guys!" Phoebe held up her hands, frowning, and looked between us like a disappointed mother. "What is going on here? You've both asked me up here but can't seem to spit out why. I'm sure that whatever it is isn't as scary as you're making it out to be." She cocked a brow when all we did was look away. "So, can someone please tell me why I'm here? Why we're all here?"

"We believe you may be a Guardian."

My eyes snapped to Phoebe's.

The girl froze, back becoming arrow straight. Her hands stayed in up but slowly, she looked from Lila, to me, back to Lila and then to Nel. She shook her head, rubbed her eyes, then glanced between Lila and I again, trying to figure out where that British voice had come from.

Then, she turned back to the cat.

Nel's face was devoid of all emotion at this point. She had sat up, tucking her paws neatly together, and her tail moved happily like a snake.

Phoebe opened her mouth. "Did that cat just speak?"

"Um," Lila bit her lip.

"Yes, I did," Nel nodded with a frown. "But back to the subject at hand—"

She was cut off when Phoebe suddenly screamed, which made all of us jumped. I opened my mouth to say something when Phoebe spun around and threw herself into my arms. The force of her weight smacked into me, knocking me from my feet, and with an oof! we were both slammed into the ground—

THUNK!

Lila and Nel both cringed, letting out sympathetic, "Ooooh"s.

"OW PHEEBS!" I cried out as my head pulsed and bones rung. I tried sitting back up but, when a hard weight kept me down, found I couldn't. "What the—"

"It's a talking cat!" Phoebe exclaimed, sitting up so that she practically straddled me. Her eyes had frozen wide and she roughly grabbed onto my collar, shaking me so hard that the back of my head smacked against the ground. "That cat just talked!"

"I KNOW!"

"Her reaction is worse than yours, Helga," I heard Nel say, sounding rather upset about being interrupted yet again.

"Ya think?!" I yelled back and struggled to pull my collar from Phoebe's white grasp. She had frozen, eyes glued onto Nel, so I was stuck hanging awkwardly in the air. The fabric cut into my skin and the air around my face sweltered. I knew without looking that blood was rushing to cover my face, turning me red like a strawberry.

"What was Helga's reaction, Nel?" Lila asked curiously and when I turned to her in shock, she had glanced over at the black cat like nothing out of the ordinary was happening.

Nel looked up. "Well—"

"Talks!" Phoebe suddenly let go to point at Nel. I fell back, the back of my head smacking against the groaned, and I groaned. Blood surged beneath my skin, pumping and throbbing painfully, while Phoebe hopped back onto her feet. "It talks!"

Nel stared at her. "Yes, I believe we have already established this."

Phoebe turned back to me and automatically I seized up in case she attacked again.

"Why can it talk?" she instead said.

Nel scowled, tail snapping behind her, and Lila giggled behind her hand. I sat back up, head still spinning, and awkwardly cleared my throat.

"Well, Pheebs, there's a perfectly logical explanation for this."

Phoebe stared. Lila stared. Nel stared—hell, even a few birds stared. All eager to hear my explanation.

Again, I cleared my throat.

"So, Nel's not really a cat—err, technically she kinda is a cat but not really cause she's not from Earth—" I gestured to the sky. "—she comes from up there, like as in space where I guess cats can talk and stuff. Neat, huh? Totally crazy. But anyway, so yeah, she's an alien hence the talking thing—oh, by the way, Nadine was right, aliens exist—but that's not really why I called you here. Erm, technically not anyway. Right, so what I meant to say is—"

"Oh, for goodness sake!"

Lila suddenly hopped up from the bench and onto her feet. Her eyebrows were knitted together as she touched the choker around her neck. The green jewels beamed proudly in the golden light and she pushed back her shoulders.

Panicked, I jumped to my feet. "Wait, Lila—"

"Lark: Exorior!"

An explosion of light shot out from her skin and I halted in my tracks, covering my eyes when the air began to heat up. The light burned red against my eyelids and I felt it fall over me like sunrays. It pushed and curled over me, soaking me to my vein, and whispering dimly in my ears.

But it was over within seconds and a coolness rapidly swirled over me. I dropped my hand and opened my eyes, immediately turning to Phoebe for her reaction.

I watched as Phoebe let her hand fall to her side before looking at Lark. Immediately, her jaw dropped and she gasped, dark eyes looking ready to pop from her skull.

Her hands trembled as she pulled them to her chest. "Y–You're—"

"Yes, Phoebe," Lark interrupted with a nod, voice significantly deeper.

I turned back in her direction, unable to resist. She stood tall and proud, like a magnificent statue, and the day burned bright behind her. Her eyes were hawklike, sharp and intense, and buried deep into Phoebe's. The usual roundness and softness in Lila's gaze was gone, replaced with a wild firmness that aged her considerably.

Her dominant staff hung from her side and stepping forward, Lark crossed her arms. The light that shuffled over her face was thick, appearing like a yellow mist. Lark pressed her lips together, jaw slightly clenching, and her hair blew gently around her ears.

"I'm Lark. One of Hillwood's Guardians."

Her eyes flickered in my direction when she said that and, from the corner of my vision, I saw the meaning of her words hit Phoebe.

I turned back in her direction and watched as something sparked in her eye, expression broadening. And slowly, she looked from Lark to me.

Her lips parted.

"Does that mean—"

I pulled the pin from my pocket before she could finish. It burned hot in my fingers; I couldn't tell if it was from the sun or my nerves. Phoebe stopped, eyes widening, and I stuck the pin to my chest.

"Blue Jay . . ."

Through the sun, my eyes met hers.

". . . Exorior."

A raging white light shot up and covered my vision. It was harsh and any outside noise became muffled. The power burned as it slid down my body, kissing my skin and raising goosebumps over my arms.

A new strength burnt in the cords of my muscles. The bones in my fingers thickened. Limbs extended, clothes transformed, and soon my hair flapped against my shoulder blades. A gust of wind soared and I shut my eyes, inhaling the warmth then exhaling a newfound strength.

And when the light grew brightest, it died. It vanished, disappearing like ribbons of smoke, and I was left standing back on my feet. The air was a knife, cold and crisp, and curled chillingly against my jaw.

I opened my eyes.

The sky was the first thing I saw.

It stretched far and wide, a golden orange that reminded me of tangerines, and bright beams brushed against the fence enclosing us. Shadows from the chains fell over us so when they hit our faces, it looked like we were imprisoned.

I blinked to adjust to the different light and when I did, it was in time to catch Phoebe lowering her arms from her face. She gasped when her eyes settled on me.

"I'm Blue Jay," I said before she could speak and gestured to my right. "Lark's partner. We've both been granted abilities—powers—to use so we can protect our home from . . . invaders."

My heart raced as I said this, but I kept my voice steady. I turned so I could fully face her and noticed how much I towered over Phoebe in this form. Lark glanced between us, staying silent out of respect, and I slid my lips into a small smile. The mask around my eyes suddenly felt so heavy. But I hoped that the smile could resemble me—Helga—so Phoebe would remember that I was still her best friend.

Phoebe's mouth had frozen open and she kept looking between Lark and I, as if she thought we were hallucinations. Her skin was pale and her balance flickered between each of her feet. I felt myself move to catch her in case she fell when Lark grabbed my arm, shooting me a look.

I nodded, understanding.

I needed to give Phoebe space to adjust to what it was I was saying, to what she was seeing. It was a lot to take in.

But when I turned back to her, her expression had twisted. Her eyes kept darting between Lark and I, mouth opening and shutting, and I knew the cogs in her mind were moving.

"Why are you telling me this?" she eventually asked, voice quiet.

Lark and I exchanged glances.

"Because Phoebe, they're only two of the four Guardians in Hillwood," Nel answered, thankfully stepping in for us. The three of us turned in her direction and the cat attempted a friendly smile. "There's two others out there, somewhere in this city with an untapped potential. And I have enough reason to believe that you are one of these potential Guardians. Reasons to believe that you're like them."

She then turned to Lark.

I glanced between them, confused, but Lark smiled with understanding and turned back to Phoebe. She pulled something from the pocket in her leg, wrapping her fingers around it so tight that it that I couldn't tell what it was.

Phoebe looked between us.

"And that leads us to our request," Lark said, voice lightening. She stepped forward until she stood in front of Phoebe and held out her hand. Her fingers opened up to reveal a hair barrette in her palm. "Do you, Phoebe Heyerdahl, accept our request to join our team? Do you pledge yourself to join us in protecting the world, our home?"

Phoebe's eyes widened.

"Will you become a Guardian?"

Dun dun dun DUN. It was Phoebe all along! She was a popular guess when asked who the next Guardian would be. Now I'm curious as to what you suspect her powers will be. A lot of you guys think it'll be something more mind based, like telekinesis or something, which I find interesting. But I guess only time will tell!

I know I promised that this chapter was supposed to be much happier, but whoops, Helga's still very in her head with her depressed thoughts. I swear the notes had the tone of this chapter be a lot more comedic, but I couldn't help myself. Also, yeah, Lark almost dying would shake them up. But what I can promise you is that once the team is fully assembled, this story will definietly lighten up. I'm really looking forward to writing some Sailor Scout esque scenes.

Anyway, let's get to the reviews, shall we?

Guest: Absolutely baby steps! I'm all about the slow burn!

acosta perez jose ramiro: Absolutely! Helga has a very bad complex where she thinks that every failure is because of her, which hasn't been helped too much with this chapter (although little by little, she's learning to ease up on herself and feel hope again). And of course; you gotta love that tension when characters think they won't make it, so they act differently because this might be their last time together. Thank you for consistently reviewing! I always look forward to it!

Nikki Pond: Hey gurl! Thank you, that utterly warms my heart! Absolutely, I really like writing about Arnold and Helga not just for the romance, but because the two naturally butt heads but bring out these different sides in one another. There's something I find refreshing about writing them so I'm glad you enjoy it as well! That chapter was a pain in the ass but totally worth it, a lot of people actually described it like a horror game. Yes, it makes it very apparent that, even if they fight, Helga, Arnold, Gerald and Phoebe would never abandon each other. That's exactly how I would describe the romance-a subplot. It's sweet but not fundamental, they'll get together but when they're ready, which neither of them are XD

Thats actually something I love about Helga to begin with. She's already such a layered character with a complex background that it was really easy to put her into this genre. It matches her so well and brings to light so many issues that I think she would've repressed. I definitely intend to make this a thing for all of the Guardians, but yes, she's such an interesting character because she's so flawed which inherently makes her relatabl. Again, thank you so much for your review, I always love hearing your thoughts!

Abby: It really was! That's actually a mindset Helga herself needs to get rid of (and Lila is actually trying to help her); that strength doesn't always come physically but sometimes emotionally. It's a major thing that seperates her from Lila and hell, even Arnold. They both have a much healthier mindset because they don't repress what they're feeling (at least in comparison), which she will be learning from them, especially Arnold. Thank you for reviewing!

Rosali Leon Huamani: ¡Sin preocupaciones! ¡Espero que hayas disfrutado de este!

I'm not sure when the next chapter will be written up. I'm not promising anything right now, but I don't think the waiting gap will be as long as this one was. But either way, Merry Christmas everyone! And if I don't update before, Happy New Year! The next chapter is a personal fave of mine and I know y'all will love it!

Also, I've made an offical playlist for the songs mentioned in this fic. It's on my tumblr and has all the songs linked, with the context, as well as some future songs . . .

Take care!

Song(s) Mentioned: Highschool Sweethearts by Melanie Martinez