She hurried on the way home. On the one hand, she did not want to annoy the Sisters, and on the other hand she wanted to get rid of her homework quickly. She passed the heavy wrought iron gates barely twenty minutes later. However, she didn't enter the building immediately; instead, she walked around discreetly and walked away to join an old oak she used to look from her window. It was called "the tree of memories" because an old tradition meant that most children who pass here leave their mark on the broad and high trunk, be they initials, a small engraved word, etc. This custom had unfortunately been lost and no one came to the tree with memories except Skye and Robbie at one time. It was their landmark, and Skye loved to come there. She absently walked her fingers over the rough, hollowed-out trunk, then checked that no one was looking at her before grabbing a low branch to pull herself up. From there she continued to climb to the height of a marker engraved by Robbie on the trunk, a cross surmounted by a skull. The drawing pointed to their hiding place, a huge hole in the trunk of the tree, where she and Robbie hid their secrets, at least those who did not fear moisture.

Skye sat down on the branch and took off her new sweatshirt, which she hid in the hollow, along with the other objects already there, mostly items forgotten by Robbie: a lighter, two packs of half-empty cigarettes, an old leather jacket, leather mittens and a car repair manual, in a plastic bag to protect it from moisture. There was also a medium-sized rectangular iron box and a purse.

Skye went down and headed for the orphanage. On entering, she notified the office of her return and then went up to her room. The other girls had returned, like everyone else, and the room was full of noise. Uncomfortable, Skye decided to go work in the playroom downstairs. It would certainly be crowded, but the place was bigger than her miserable bedroom, and the air was therefore more breathable. She returned to the ground floor and crossed the entrance.

The term "playroom" was exaggerated. The room was almost empty because there was not much money and the sisters did not think that children needed toys. There was a reading corne, the few books were worn, just like the brown carpet that over the years had accumulated a lot of indefinable and unpleasant smells. The rest of the room was occupied by tables, with the exception of a space opposite the reading corner, where were some bins half filled with old second- or even third-hand toys, which were in a deplorable state. Felt pens and crayons were self-service on a table next door.

At this time, quite a few children, especially relatively young, because the others were doing their homework or playing outside, were present, and there were two supervisors, Sister Aude and Sister Nathalie. Skye sighed and sat down at a table near the window, then took out her History stuff. She had a text of twenty lines to read that would allow her to answer a series of questions. She had barely begun reading that she was already picking up, completely lost. As a rule she would have given up soon, but she wanted to make a good impression, especially since Mr Coulson looked awesome. She clung to it, with great difficulty, since all the words were mixed in her head without she understood a quarter. For "normal" students, the assignment would have taken one to two hours, big max. Skye spent two hours there before having to go to eat, and then worked until curfew, so another hour and a half. She had done a lot of it but had not finished, and as the electricity automatically shut off at curfew, she could not finish it. She hoped that Coulson would notice her work anyway and not take the unfinished task as a sign of laziness.

Someone knocked on the door and Phil turned his head. His wife was at the entrance to the room, carelessly leaning against the wall. He smiled tenderly at her and she walked slowly as he packed her things. He kissed her and took his satchel in his hand. He locked his room.

"So, your day went well?" Melinda asked him.

He shrugged with his eternal smile on his lips.

"It was eventful, as usual. Some classes are more difficult to manage than others, but it has gone relatively well. And yours?"

"Same," she teased, "except that I have no problem managing my students."

He shook his head, taking her hand.

"My wife, the worst nightmare of the students."

They continued to discuss their day and reached their car, where their children were waiting for them.

"Get off the hood, Bobbi," Melinda ordered.

The girl took the eyes off her phone and obeyed.

"Well, it's not too soon," Natasha grumbled, leaning against the driver's door. "It's been twenty minutes that we're waiting here like..."

"Your vocabulary, girl," Couslon interrupted.

"I was going to say like jugs," she protested.

"Of course," his mother quipped.

Trip laughs softly. Coulson unlocked the car and all climbed in their usual effervescence, the children all talking at the same time to tell their day. Melinda took the wheel and quickly, Coulson drifted in his thoughts as he contemplated the scenery that rushed past behind the glass, listening to his children with a distracted ear.

"Phil?"

He turned his head.

"Yes?"

"You're okay?" May asked him. "You seem pensive."

"That's true," he answered. "I have a funny impression."

"About what?" Trip interjected.

Phil thought for a second, looking straight ahead.

"A new pupil," he replied.

"Skye?" his wife guessed.

He detailed her, surprised.

"Yes," he said. "There is something weird about her, but I can't put my finger on it."

"I know," she confirmed. "I had this sensation too this morning. She couldn't do the basketball session with the others."

"Because of her wrist?" Phil asked.

There was a moment of silence.

"No," said Melinda, taking her eyes off the road for a second to look at her husband's anxious face. "She felt bad. What is the problem with her wrist?"

"She felt bad?" he repeated, raising his voice.

"Phil, please," Melinda said firmly, "I'll explain, but first answer me."

He nodded.

"I saw her in the teachers' room at lunchtime. She was coming for an ice pack. A little later, Maria told me that Skye's wrist was swollen and bruised. Skye explained that she had fallen last night. She didn't tell you about it?"

His wife thought for a moment. Their children had stopped talking to follow their conversation.

"No. If I dispensed her, it's because she almost fainted during the warm-up. She told me she hadn't eaten this morning."

"It doesn't surprise me," Phil said. "Did you see how thin she is? Her clothes are too big and she's white like a stamp of aspirin!"

"Do you think she's anorexic?" May asked, parking in front of their home.

Phil unfastened his belt.

"I don't know. But something is wrong. I can feel it."

May cut off the contact and ran a hand through her hair.

"You know, I gave her food after her faintness, a cereal bar and an apple. She hesitated five minutes before resolving to take them and she ate very slowly. And I don't know if you've noticed, but she really doesn't like human contact."

He nodded.

"Yes. She jumped two meters when I touched her arm. I don't know, maybe the human touch just makes her feel uncomfortable. What worries me most is her leanness. We have to watch her about her. If she doesn't eat enough, even if she's not officially anorexic, she may have health problems."

May undid her belt and went down. The others followed her.

"She's in which class?" Natasha asked, helping her bag.

"In seventh grade," his father replied. "She's twelve years old."

They entered the house and the teenagers went to drop their things upstairs. Coulson took off his coat. May looked at him, worried, then gently touched his shoulder, and hugged his from behind.

"Don't worry," she whispered in his ear. "We will keep an eye on her."

He smiled and turned around without letting her go. He took her neck in his hands and rested his forehead on her.

"Yes, I know," he murmured, "my wonderful wife."

He kissed her and hugged her, closing his eyes, inhaling her sweet perfume.

As she had not slept must last two nights, Skye could enjoy a good night's rest without any nightmares. She woke up shortly before the bell and dressed quickly. She was one of the first children to go to eat. Only three sisters were in the refectory, busy setting up the tables: Sister Beatrice (Skye grimaced), Sister Andrea and Sister Mathilde. Skye smiled as she saw her and walked over to her.

"Hello!"

Sister Mathilde jumped and turned around. She smiled when she saw the teenager.

"Hello you!" she greeted her. "How are you, Skye? Did you sleep well?

"Yes, very well. Do you need a hand?"

Without waiting for an answer, she took a pile of plates and began to arrange them under the benevolent eyes of Sister Mathilde.

Sister Mathilde was one of the youngest Sisters in the orphanage, and the least cowhide according to Skye. She was twenty-seven years old and had joined the orders following the death of her fiancée. Believer, she had consoled herself by faith and by her need to help the poor; she had her heart on her hand and for her, no child, including Skye, had the devil in him, no matter how many problems they could cause. Skye loved her a lot, but since she shared her time between the orphanage and two charities, she did not see her as often as she would like.

She took advantage of her presence to talk to her about the last days, and especially about her new school. Then she went to a table while the other children came gradually.

She managed to swallow her breakfast before the big ones arrived, hence the advantage of being in the first, because in general, the older ones stole food from those who were younger. It was the jungle and the majority of the Sisters let it go. You had to fight for the right to eat, and it was pathetic.

After finishing, she cleared her table and got ready. She was far too early, but she decided to leave all the same. Any place was better than the orphanage, anyway. She helped her bag, warned the reception she was leaving and set off.

She had Computer Science in the first period, with Mr. Peterson. Although he seemed intimidating at first, it turned out that he was actually very kind and pedagogue. Skye already knew everything he spoke to them during the hour but didn't get bored. At the end of the class, he gave them a group assignment to make: create a website on the subject of their choice and present it in a month in front of the class. The prospect of an oral was stressful but Skye reassured herself that it was something she was mastering. She found Fitz and Simmons coming out of class and broached the subject before running out of courage:

"Does it tell you to get together for the project?"

She expected to be rejected, but her friends seemed rather enthusiastic.

"On the other hand," Jemma said with a smile, "I warn you, I am remarkably nil in computer science!"

"I confirm," Fitz chuckled. "It would be wise to forbid her to approach less than three meters from a PC so that her bad waves don't grill it!"

"Hey!" Jemma protested, slapping his shoulder.

"Ouch!" Fitz complained.

They started bickering again.

"Well, have you done?" Lincoln intervened, joining them. "We are going to be late."

The scientific twins grumbled vague insults but nevertheless followed suit ... without stopping quarrelling.

"Oh there, what they are painful!" Lincoln sighed.

Skye and he exchanged a knowing smile.

In the second period, they had Health, and Skye learned from her friends that both Mr. Coulson and Ms. May were teaching this course. Two teachers for one class, it was a bit weird, but she said nothing. They stopped at the hall. May and Coulson arrived a few minutes later. Skye watched them approach. Coulson smiled, unsurprisingly, but May too, which was already more amazing. Well, we were still far from the broad smile of her husband, but there was a gleam in her eyes. Skye found her beautiful like that. They stopped and Coulson unlocked the door. The teachers entered and invited the students to do the same. Skye followed Lincoln, but May called her as she came in:

"Skye," she said. "Can I see you for a minute?"

The teenager sighed and turned around. She went to the office, against which Mrs. May was leaning, unlike her husband who was busy near the door answering a student's questions.

"Yes?" The girl inquired, doing her best to hide her annoyance.

"How are you today?" her teacher asked.

Skye can't hide her surprise at Ms. May's sincere concern. Usually, her teachers didn't have much something to do with her, then this manifest anxiety destabilized her in the highest degree.

"I'm okay," she replied shyly.

May nodded.

"Have you eaten this morning?"

"Yes."

"Good. How's your wrist?"

Skye narrowed her eyes and concluded that Coulson must have told her about it.

"Better, thank you. He deflated during the night."

"Okay," the woman concluded.

Skye smiled shyly and turned away, but was once again cut off:

"Would you have told me, if you hadn't done your faintness? You would have told me about your wrist?"

The teenager hesitated between lying and telling the truth but, in her own particular way, her teacher had been kind to her so she opted for the second option:

"No. I wouldn't have talked about it."

May said nothing and Skye went to sit down. All the places were already taken, except two or three at the bottom, including one at Grant's table, which made her a sign. She smiled at him and sat next to him.

"Yo," the guy said with a wink. "You're okay?"

"I'm fine," Skye answered, unpacking her bag. "And you?"

"I'm in a good shape, as always!"

Skye stifled a small laugh.

"And your wrist?" Grant said.

She lifted her sleeve to show him. The hematoma, although still visible, had decreased and the wrist was less swollen.

"It's like new, or almost."

Ward gently took her hand. His hand was hot and rough. He felt the hematoma carefully.

"Does it hurt you?"

"Not really, don't worry, the teenager reassured.

He smiled and she could recover her hand as the class started. They were on the topic of Sport and the risks related to lack of hydration. Skye and Ward listened with a distracted ear, chatting in a low voice despite May's super-ninja, who seemed to have eyes behind her head and mutant ears. Skye learned that Grant was in fact fifteen years old and that he had redoubled three times, once in fourth grade, another in sixth grade, and last year. Then May told to Skye to change of seat after picking them up again, which didn't bother the teenager because Ward was beginning to ask her questions about her; questions she didn't want to answer.

At the end of the class, however, he walked over to her as she put away her kit.

"We'll do a ... thing with friends tonight, does that tell you to come? At least, if you like the thrills..."

"What will you do?" Skye asked with interest.

"We meet sometimes in a disused building in the city center. We play games, or we hang out, we discuss, it depends on nights. We also drink alcohol, but shh, don't say it. And sometimes we do things that are not too conventional. We must keep the mystery otherwise it's less fun. So?"

Skye hesitated for a moment. It was certainly risk taking, since Ward was deliberately mysterious with his story of thrills, and she suspected that he and his mates were doing things that were not necessarily legal, like drinking when they were minors. But in all honesty, Skye didn't like to follow the rules and enjoyed walking off the beaten path.

"It's OK," she decided. "Send me the address."

"Awesome!" the teenager enthused.

He wrote down the address on a piece of paper.

"Come at eight p.m," he said to her.

"I can't so soon," grimaced the teenager. "I can at half past nine."

Ward shrugged.

"It's ok, the night will be far from over anyway."

He left her after a last glance and Skye looked at the paper for a moment before putting it in her pocket. Holding her bag, she noticed the looks of her teachers on her. She blushed, embarrassed, and stammered a "goodbye" muffled before going out. Jemma and Fitz were waiting for her in the hallway, as they had been used to since yesterday. Skye cursed herself for keeping them waiting.

"Sorry for the time", she apologized, sheepishly.

"Pfff," Fitz whispered. "No need to apologize, we are not up to a minute."

Skye smiled, reassured.

"Where is Lincoln?" she asked.

"He must see a friend of his, Gordon, I think," Jemma explained to her. "Do we go?"

Skye nodded and followed in the footsteps of the science twins.

"So," Jemma hesitated, "I saw you talking with Ward yesterday and today."

It was an affirmative sentence but the question was clearly perceptible.

"And?" Skye encouraged.

"Nothing," Jemma said, "I just wanted to tell you to be careful. He's not very..."

"Frequentable," Fitz finished, scratching his hair.

Skye frowned and simply shrugged, not wishing to open the conversation on this subject. If they knew her they would know she was so far from being "frequentable".

"For the moment, he's nice and that's the main thing, right?" she replied.

"Yes, of course," Jemma stammered. "But... be careful, ok?"

"It's promised," the girl smiled, touched by the anxiety of her new friend.

The day passed quickly. As she suspected, Coulson had picked up the exercises they had to do at home, and she had given him with apprehension. He had just told them earlier that it would be noted, which of course had made quite a few students scream because they hadn't done or botched the work, including Ward among others, but Coulson didn't changed his mind, despite the students' feelings. Skye, her, didn't care about her notes.

It was ten past nine p.m. when Skye decided to leave. By returning from classes, she had managed to borrow ten minutes one of the old computers in the playroom, and had been able to see that the place indicated by Ward was about fifteen minutes from here. For once, she was able to lie down quietly without being bothered by the other occupants of the room, after taking a shower and washing her hair in the sink. The feeling of wet hair on the pillow was uncomfortable, but she did not mind the few minutes that followed the curfew. She waited for the Sisters to do their rounds and closed her eyes when Sister Andrea opened the door to check that all the girls were in bed. After she left, Skye waited a few minutes and stood up discreetly. She put on her sneakers on her bare feet without bothering to tie the laces and then took out her backpack (prepared discreetly a little earlier) from under the bed. She shouldered it and slid her pillow under the blanket. The trick was not very elaborate, but the darkness allowed distinguishing a mass and it would do the trick. She went out on tiptoes, making sure the hallway was empty. She joined the upstairs storehouse, whose door was still locked, but had no trouble picking with a hairpin, one of the many tricks taught by Robbie. She lit her small flashlight to light up the area, as electricity automatically shut off at the curfew.

The reserve was a room cluttered with shelves filled with various boxes of all kinds. On the wall opposite the door were two rather narrow windows with bars. Skye went to the first one, the one on the left, but stopped to steal a few bars of chocolate cereal in one of the boxes. Sisters only gave it once a week, on Thursday after school, and Skye found it very stingy. Personally, she thought that the nuns simply kept them for themselves. She had no remorse at stinging four before changing to stuff her pyjamas instead of her clothes in her bag. She put it on her back with both straps and opened the window. She tugged at the bars, which gave way after a few seconds while squeaking. The noise sounded so strong that she stopped, clenched. But no enraged Sister or a child suddenly pulled out of sleep landed and she could put the bars (sawed a few years ago by Robbie) against the wall. Thanks to her small size and thinness, she had no trouble slipping on the window sill in a squatting position. She wasn't particularly dizzy, but didn't look down, focusing her attention on the tree in front of her, a yard or two away. She informed the nearest branch, of which she knew, for having already experienced much, the certainly relative strength but nevertheless sufficient, and sprang forward pushing on her feet. She managed to grab the gnarled branch with her hands and stayed a few seconds suspended in the void, the time that her body stopped to pitch. She climbed to the strength of her arms and used the lower branches to reach the ground safely. She went to get her sweatshirt and put it on immediately before climbing the wall at the lowest point. She took one last look at the filthy building in the distance and ran along the road.