Page 11 of Missing

"Grilled cheese or burger?" I asked the table absentmindedly, my thoughts still tangled up with the new girl, now known as Harper.

"Both," Dante answered without hesitation, all lingering traces of his siren-dazed look replaced with a voracious appetite—for food or something else entirely.

Chapter 10

Harper Hillstrom

The clang of silverware and the hum of morning chatter wrapped around me like a smoky haze as I watched them saunter in—three strides oozing confidence and entitlement. My gaze followed their every move, a morbid curiosity twisting in my gut. Melody, bless her, introduced me with a chirpy note in her voice. "Harper, these are the guys I was telling you about,"

"This is Griffin," she said, pointing at the man whose hair was a rich, raven black, a stark contrast to those eyes—a blue so piercing, so damn intense, they could cut through the haze of any smoky room. They were the kind of blue that wasn't just seen; they were felt, like a cold splash of the ocean when you weren't expecting it. I couldn't help but wonder if his stare held the same chill, or if there was warmth there, hidden beneath the ice.

"Then there's Dante." She gestured towards the guy who looked like he had ants in his pants, he was jumping all over the place, His uniform—god, his uniform—it looked like it was stitched onto him, thread taut over muscles that didn't belong in a classroom. I couldn't help but think that fabric must curse its existence for having to contain such a vast expanse of a man. He had this grin that looked almost too wide for his face.

Dante responded with a simple "enchanted," but I couldn't shake the feeling that he was a shifter. It wasn't something I knew for sure, but more of an instinctual feeling.

"And this is Orlando." When she pointed at a man with mop-like black hair that fell carelessly over his forehead, framing those intense green eyes that seemed to see right through the chaos.

"Nice to meet you all," I managed, my voice steady despite the chaos going off inside me.

As quick as they'd locked eyes with me, they turned on their heels, their backs now a solid wall shielding them from the inconvenience of my presence. They picked up the menus and started to order their breakfast, acting like we no longer existed.

"Seriously?" I muttered under my breath. I was used to being invisible when it came to my mother's bleary-eyed neglect, but this? This was a different kind of erasure—active, deliberate.

Melody's brows knitted together, a silent apology shaping her lips as she gave my hand a quick, empathetic squeeze. But I didn't need sympathy; I needed to not give a damn. I clenched my jaw, tamping down the flare of anger, and forced myself to shrug it all off.

As I took a bite, the crisp snap of fruit between my teeth was a small, satisfying rebellion against the silence they'd left me with.

I chewed slowly, the tartness of the apple mingling with my sour mood as Melody's voice cut through the hum of the cafeteria. "Harper's actually on our floor. Right across from me. And guess what? She was flagged for having four powers."

At that bombshell, I almost choked on my bite, the apple’s sweetness suddenly turning to ash in my mouth. My green eyes flickered over the boys' shoulders, watching their bodies stiffen, their previous disinterest shattering like thin ice under heavy boots.

"Impossible," Orlando had declared as if the word itself could negate the reality of my existence. I shrugged nonchalantly, shifting my focus back to the apple in my hand, its crimson skin a stark contrast against the pallor of my skin. I took another bite, the crunch echoing in the sudden quiet that had befallen our little corner of the cafeteria.

"Are they sure?" Griffin's voice cut through the stillness, his tone threaded with scepticism but not entirely devoid of genuine intrigue. His blue eyes, sharp as shards of ice, were fixed on me, trying to unravel the enigma that sat before him.

"Th-that's what they told me," I stuttered, each word laced with disbelief and a hint of acid. The notion that they had it all wrong was more than just a hunch; it was the only thing that made sense. "I'm sure they got the whole thing wrong," I continued, my voice steadying as conviction took root. "My mother is human." A pause for dramatic effect, a scoff to show them how ludicrous this all seemed. "But hey, let's all look at me like I'm some lab rat, shall we?"

The words hung in the air, sharp and unyielding, a challenge thrown down before them. Their eyes were on me again, but this time I didn't flinch under their scrutiny. Instead, I propped my elbow on the table, resting my chin in my hand like I was bored with their little game. They were nothing more than overgrown schoolyard bullies trying to ruffle feathers that wouldn't be ruffled.

With a roll of my shoulders, I leaned back in my chair, the metal legs scraping against the linoleum with a sound that was far too loud in the sudden silence. My apple, now forgotten, sat on the table between us.

For the rest of breakfast, I was an island unto myself, surrounded by the chatter and clinking of dishes but utterly alone. I stared at the scratched surface of the table, tracing patterns in the wear, while around me the world moved on. In my periphery, I could sense their occasional glances, their hushed whispers, but I remained stoically detached, a fortress of solitude in the midst of chaos.

"Come on Harper, we have class" Melody bumped her shoulder into mine.

Chapter 11

Harper Hillstrom

Melody stood up, her movement a graceful contrast against the backdrop of raucous chatter and clinking cutlery. I followed suit, feeling the weight of dozens of eyes glancing my way before returning to their own insular worlds.

"Here, you'll need this," Melody said, her voice slicing through the murmur around us as she handed me a crumpled timetable.

"Looks like we're both headed to a fire lesson first," she commented, tucking a strand of her short blonde hair behind her ear.

"Fire lesson?" I echoed, my voice betraying a mix of intrigue and apprehension. The very idea sent a thrill down my spine—fire was raw, uncontrollable, a bit like the life I've known.

"Yeah, you'll get a kick out of it," Melody assured with a smile that could thaw the frost off a winter morning. "It's all about channelling your inner flame, sort of speaking to the heat in your blood."

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