The aftermath was a study in quiet, simmering fury. Caleb was marched to the principal’s office, a stone-faced sentry on either side of him. Jennifer and Martin were left behind in the now-empty corridor outside, a world away from the echoing laughter of the hall.

  Martin had been given an old gym towel to wrap around his waist, his stained trousers a bundled, humiliating package in his hands. He slid down the wall to sit on the cold linoleum, pulling his knees up. Jennifer joined him, leaving a careful foot of space between them. The silence was thick, charged with everything that had just happened and everything still unsaid.

  “So…” Jennifer began, the word a fragile bridge.

  “I’m sorry,” Martin cut in, his voice low. He wasn’t looking at her.

  She blinked. “What?”

  “For yesterday. The way I spoke to you. I was just….” He trailed off, unable to finish the sentence with the truth.

  “Yeah,” Jennifer said, the tension in her shoulders easing a fraction. “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have thrown the book. It was stupid.”

  “It’s fine. I deserved it.”

  Another silence settled, but this one was softer, the ice between them beginning to crack. Martin took a deep breath, the question he’d been holding finally breaking free. “Jenny… do you know?”

  She tensed. “Know what?”

  “What’s wrong with me.”

  Jennifer unconsciously held her breath, her mind racing. He knows. He has to know. She exhaled slowly. “Did… did your mom tell you?”

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  “No.” A bitter, hollow laugh escaped him. “But you can’t hide an illness from a sick 14-year-old with a smartphone. I looked it up.”

  “Right.” The single word was heavy with shared dread.

  “You thought I didn’t want to know,” he stated.

  “You said you didn’t.”

  “I didn’t. Then I got tired of it.” He shook his head, a faint, weary chuckle escaping. “Turns out, not knowing is worse. It’s just… screaming into a void.”

  Jennifer’s heart ached. “What are you going to do now?” she whispered.

  He turned to look at her, his eyes dark and searching. “What would you do? If you were me?”

  The question paralyzed her for a moment. “I would… um… live my best life,” she finally said, the words feeling hopelessly inadequate. “And wait for the vaccine.”

  Martin’s head tilted. “Vaccine?”

  “Yeah.”

  A sad, knowing smile touched his lips. “Jenny, it’s been three years. You’d wait for a vaccine?”

  “It’s best to be hopeful,” she insisted, her voice gaining strength. “Isn’t that better than just being… depressed all the time?”

  “I guess,” he conceded softly, the fight gone out of him.

  They didn’t notice the shadow that had been lingering behind the angular privacy wall that jutted into the corridor. As they lapsed into thoughtful silence, the shadow detached itself and stepped into view.

  “Well, well, well.”

  Ava stood there, her arms crossed, a look of cold triumph on her face. “Turns out the pee is about to get flushed down the drain.”

  Jennifer, still sitting, glared up at her. “What are you doing here, Ava?”

  “Oh, I just came to say bye-bye to Martin-boy here,” Ava said, her voice sugary sweet. “I couldn’t help but overhear. He’s sick. And from the sound of it… it’s the big one, isn’t it? Blood Wax.”

  “Okay,” Jennifer said, her voice dangerously calm. “You’ve said bye-bye. Now leave.”

  Ava’s smile turned mocking. “What’s your problem? Mad another girl is talking to your boyfriend?”

  That did it. Jennifer pushed herself off the floor in one fluid motion. She stood to her full height, which was a good inch taller than Ava and even a bit taller than Martin. The physical advantage was immediate and intimidating.

  “Say bye and leave,” Jennifer repeated, her voice low and steady.

  Martin scrambled up. “Jenny, calm down—”

  Ava took a step back, her confidence wavering under Jennifer’s direct, furious gaze. She aimed her parting shot at Martin. “Well, I’d like to see what happens first. You leaving the school…” She let the sentence hang, her meaning as clear as the stain on his discarded trousers. “…or you dying.”

  Having delivered the blow, she turned to walk away, a tactical retreat.

  But Jennifer was done with retreats. Her hand shot out, fingers clamping like a vice on Ava’s shoulder, spinning her around.

  Ava had just enough time to register the fury in Jennifer’s eyes before the world exploded in a burst of white light and searing pain. Jennifer’s fist, driven by a year of pent-up frustration and a day of unbearable protectiveness, connected with Ava’s face with a solid, sickening thwack.

  Ava didn’t cry out. She simply crumpled, her legs giving way as she dropped like a sack of flour to the hard linoleum floor, landing in a stunned, motionless heap.