E Z R A

The hallway tastes like metal and cold fear. Kids are crying, running, pressing against the lockers like the walls might swallow them. And Lira—she’s standing too still. Too quiet. Like the bell knocked something loose inside her.

I can’t stop seeing the moment she fell toward Callen instead of me. My brain keeps replaying it like a glitch. I tell myself it doesn’t matter, that I got to her, that I’m here now, but it still punches straight through me.

She blinks hard, trying to refocus reality one piece at a time. When her eyes drift toward the trophy case, toward the dead girl, I move without thinking. Block her view. Put my hands on her shoulders even though mine are shaking.

“Stay with me,” I say, too soft. She nods a little. Callen doesn’t move. He watches us like he knows exactly what I’m thinking. Of course that’s when Ines comes strutting out of the stairwell like she owns the disaster.

“I heard the bell,” she announces loudly, “and nothing happened. Not even a shiver. Told you.” A few kids look at her like they’d happily launch her into space. Some whisper: immune? Immune? Lira flinches at the word. I step closer before I can stop myself. Callen shifts at the same time. Our shoulders almost brush. Ines sees that and smirks like she’s found gold.

“What?” she says. “Did something spicy happen in the tower?” I have no idea what she means, but Lira stiffens.  Callen’s jaw tightens.  I swear if Ines keeps talking, I might open a portal just to toss her through it. Then Pia barrels through the crowd, waving her phone like it’s the last candle in a blackout.

“Guys, someone caught the frost forming.. look at this..”

“Pia, don’t,” I warn. But she’s jittery, words tripping over each other. “It’s like a hand. And the audio.. there’s this metal grinding sound.”

“Give me the phone.”

“No, Ezra, people need to..”

“Pia.” I grab it before she can jerk away. The thumbnail freezes on a smear of frost across the lens, warped like it tried to spell something. My stomach sinks.  I deleted it.

“Ezra!” she yelps, horrified.

“You want teachers to take your whole device? Or worse?” I shove it back into her hands. “Think.” She falters, cheeks flushing red.

Behind me, Lira whispers, “Ezra…”

I turn immediately.  Callen snorts like he’s amused. I’m playing a hero. I pretend I don’t hear him. Down the hall, a girl tried calling someone, her mom, maybe. The phone barely rang once before a teacher snapped, “Phones away. Now.”

Her voice was too sharp. Too rehearsed. Too scared. Lira’s trembling again, subtle but constant. I want to get her somewhere quiet. Away from crowds and frost and Callen breathing down her neck.

“Look at me,” I say, stepping close. “You’re okay.” She tries. She really tries. But her gaze shifts past me, to the floor beside her shoe. Frost curls thin and delicate along the tile. Her breath catches.

“Ezra… it’s forming something.” I look. I really do.  But all I see is a pale smear.

“There’s nothing there,” I say.

Her face cracks around the edges. “It’s right.. Ezra, it’s right there.”

“You’re overloaded,” I say quickly. “Your brain’s trying to..”

“Stop,” she whispers. Callen steps in before she sways again. His hand hovers near her back.

“She’s not imagining it,” he says. I hate him.  I hate that he might be right.  I hate that I can’t see what she sees. Callen stays glued to her side. Not touching, but close enough that I feel him like static. Every time she sways, he adjusts. Every time she flinches, his hand twitches. And she doesn’t pull away. It’s a clean, sharp jealousy. Quiet but vicious.

“You need to sit down,” I tell her.

“I’m fine,” she murmurs.

“She is,” Callen echoes. I glare at him. He meets it without blinking.

“Back off,” I say.

“No.” He’s maddeningly calm. “She needs more than logic right now.” Lira squeezes her eyes shut like the noise of us is worse than the chaos around her. I swallow hard. I’m losing her in real time, and Callen knows it.

Phones start buzzing again, someone’s hotspot is still on. Notifications spill everywhere: shaky videos, blurry frost pics, panicked posts.

HollowbrookWatch: did anyone else see the handprint?
BellTruthers: research the heritage files.
LocalFeed: admin banning footage = cover-up confirmed.

Lira stiffens. I angle myself instinctively to shield her, even though she doesn’t have her phone out. Callen watches the screens like he already knows what they’ll say.

“What heritage files?” I mutter. He doesn’t answer.

Rumors spread fast:
“The headmistress is prepping for some… ceremony thing? Something old.”

 A boy nearby stared at his phone like it bit him. “Uh—my mom just texted. She wrote: ‘Stay calm. Attend the ceremony. Everything will be fine.’”
He swallowed hard. “She’s never texted like that.” My stomach drops.  Lira’s hands disappear into her sleeves. Callen mutters a curse under his breath. Teachers flood the hallway like a cleanup crew, fake calm, fake smiles and zero urgency.

“Return to your rooms.”
“Do not speculate.”
“Counselors are available.”

They don’t look at the cracked glass or the frost residue. They look at us, what we’ll say, what we’ll post. Ms. Voss walks by, checking attendance on her tablet. Her brows crease.

“Ezra… weird,” she murmurs, tapping my name. “It’s not… loading.”

“What?” I ask. She shakes her head too fast. “Network issue. Move along.” But I saw it, my name glitching, then blanking like someone hit delete. A cold spike settles in my gut.

Lira’s eyes find mine. “Ezra?”

“I’m fine,” I lied. Callen stares too long, like he’s watching something unravel. The crowd splits again, this time for two custodians with a cart. Not a stretcher. A cart, like they’re clearing debris. The girl’s body is gone already.  The frost handprint scrubbed away. Only cracked, dripping glass remains.

Kids whisper:

“Did anyone get her name?”
“She was in my chem class.. wait… what was her name?”
“Did she even… go here?”

Lira grips my sleeve. “Ezra, do you hear them?” Yeah. I do.  And it’s wrong.

Callen’s voice is low, bleak. “It’s starting.” I want to know what he means.  But I’m afraid he’ll tell me. I guide Lira toward the alcove near the language hall, anywhere quieter, anywhere she can breathe.

“You shouldn’t be alone,” I say.

“I’m not,” she whispers. Her eyes darted to the floor again. I shift to block it.

“Lira, listen. Whatever you saw.. you’re not losing it.” She gives a wet, short laugh. “You don’t even believe me.”

“That’s not.. I’m trying to keep you safe.”

“I don’t need saving,” she snaps quiet but sharp. It hits harder than it has any right to.

I still reach for her wrist. “I know you’re scared.” Her breath catches. Her face softens. For a moment, I think she’ll lean in. Then Callen appears at the alcove entrance.

“We need to move,” he says.

“No,” I snapped. “She needs a second..”

“We don’t have one.” Lira sways. He steps just close enough that she steadies without touching him. I want him out of the doorway. Out of the hall. Out of this school. The intercom crackles overhead, sharp, static-filled, wrong. Everyone looks up. Even Callen. Then the Headmistress’s voice slides through, smooth and scripted.

“Students of Hollowbrook… due to the recent disruption, the administration will be implementing an emergency Heritage Ceremony.” Lira goes still.

“What is that?” she whispers.

Callen’s face drains. “Not now. Not this soon.”

The announcement continues:

“Attendance is mandatory. All students will report to the Great Hall at dusk. Failure to comply will result in immediate consequences.”

Immediate consequences. For a ceremony none of us have heard of. The intercom clicks off. The hallway explodes in panic, voices rising, feet pounding. Lira’s hand finds mine. Callen steps closer. And deep under the floorboards, the bell hums once, slow, deliberate.

Choosing.