The school bell rang just as Ivy stepped through the gate. The breeze was sharp but not unpleasant, tugging lightly at her short hair as she adjusted her glasses and made her way across the courtyard.
"Hey! Ivy! You're late!" Garry's voice carried through the morning crowd like a blast of wind through dry leaves.
"I'm not," Ivy replied without slowing down.
"You are," he said, falling into step beside her with that ever-present grin. "By, like, ten seconds. A record, really."
Chloe rolled her eyes from behind them. "She was exactly on time, Garry. Not everyone sprints through life like you."
"I sprint with purpose," he said, tapping the side of his head.
"You're late to everything, though."
"That's still a purpose."
They slipped into the building as the halls began to clear, lockers slamming shut and voices fading as students filtered into classrooms. Ivy moved on autopilot, shoes off, slippers on, and then to her desk in the second row. It was a rhythm she didn't mind. Predictable. Comfortable.
"Reminder," Chloe whispered as she sat beside her, "we've got sparring drills today. Hope you're mentally prepared."
Ivy gave her a look. "Aren't I always?"
"That's the spirit," Chloe said with a wink. "Mentally numb, physically competent."
Garry leaned in from the row ahead. "Now that's a school motto."
The sparring drills were uneventful, mostly. Ivy faced off against another girl whose blessing let her project quick bursts of force, like invisible shoves. Ivy handled it like usual, hands steady, stance locked, reflecting the attacks just before they hit.
It was always the same. A flash of light in her vision. A lurch in her chest. The blow bounced back to its sender, and Ivy stood unharmed, physically. Inside, though, it left her breathless. Like the world stuttered for a second too long. Her vision blurred slightly, but she blinked it away.
The instructor gave a nod. "Controlled as always. But don't overuse that reflex, Ivy. It stacks."
"I know."
"No badge of honor in walking out upright if your mind crashes after."
"I know," she repeated, voice calm, unreadable.
The day passed in pieces, history, lunch with Chloe and Garry, Elias listening in more than speaking. Ivy barely noticed how quiet the school was until the principal walked into their last class of the day.
The room froze. Even Garry stopped tapping his pencil.
"I'll keep this short," Principal Marlin said, his voice firm but measured. "One of the high-risk training programs in the city has been shut down. Effective immediately."
Murmurs started.
He raised a hand. "Due to financial strain and improper containment resources. Several students from the disbanded class have been reassigned. Three will be joining this classroom."
Now the class erupted.
"What? Here?"
"Three?"
"No way, are they dangerous?"
Chloe's eyes sparkled with curiosity.
"I'll remind you this is a low-risk environment," Marlin continued. "Those reassigned here were deemed stable and non-threatening. Treat them as you would any other student. No exceptions."
He turned and left.
After school, Ivy walked home alone. The others had split off, Chloe to dance club, Garry to detention (again), and Elias toward the shuttle station.
She liked walking. The city, while loud, was peaceful in a way. Horns in the distance, shoes on pavement, the rustle of wind between power lines. It gave her time to think without needing to speak.
As she passed a corner near a small pet shop, she heard raised voices.
"I told you, this isn't a resting bench! If you're not buying, don't linger!"
An older woman stood with her hands on her hips, a cat weaving between her legs. In front of her stood a boy, maybe her age, maybe a little older. He wore a long coat too clean for this part of the district, and his posture was tense but polite.
He didn't argue. Just looked at her, eyes blank, as if he didn't quite catch the words.
The woman scoffed. "Don't pretend not to understand. I know what kind of student you are."
Ivy stepped closer, her voice flat. "He's not pretending. Maybe he doesn't speak well. That's not a crime."
The woman turned to her with a frown, then clicked her tongue and walked off, muttering something under her breath. The cat followed without complaint.
Ivy turned back to the boy. He blinked once, then gave her a small, formal bow. The movement was stiff but sincere, and it caught her completely off guard.
"Okay," she said slowly. "That works too."
He straightened, then gave a sheepish smile. It wasn't big, but it softened his otherwise unreadable face.
"You lost?" she asked.
He tilted his head, as if trying to process the question. Then he gave a tiny shrug.
Ivy frowned slightly. "You shouldn't stand on corners around here. People assume things."
He nodded again, a little quicker this time.
She stared at him for another second, then adjusted her bag and turned away.
She didn't look back.