---
The week blurred into something softer than Lena had expected. Not easy—not by a long shot. But lighter. As if the weight she'd been carrying for so long had shifted, just enough to let her breathe again.
Her hallway encounters with Jace became a rhythm: a nod in the morning, a shared glance at lunch, a joke passed like a note between periods. It wasn't dramatic. It wasn't sweeping. It was quiet. Real.
And real was harder to hide from.
---
On Friday, the fire alarm went off during fourth period.
Not a drill.
The shrill whine sliced through the math lecture. Students leapt to their feet. Chairs scraped. Mrs. Glendon waved her arms toward the door. "Single file! Leave everything! Move!"
Lena followed the line out, heart pounding with that familiar school-year adrenaline. Not fear, exactly. Just a jittery, unfocused awareness that something was off.
The halls were chaotic. Teachers shouted instructions, students clogged the exits.
Outside, the February wind bit hard. Lena crossed her arms, wishing she'd brought a jacket.
"You'd think with how often the boiler breaks, we'd get a better system," someone muttered behind her.
She turned. Jace stood there, hands shoved in his pockets, hair windblown, grinning like he was born in the chaos.
"Let me guess," Lena said. "You're gonna claim you pulled the alarm."
"Would you be impressed?"
"No."
He smirked. "Then I didn't pull it."
They stood there as the crowd thickened around them. The sun fought behind a veil of clouds, casting everything in that colorless glow that made the world feel paused. Lena looked at him, really looked, and realized she hadn't seen him smile this much before.
"You like being outside during chaos?" she asked.
Jace shrugged. "Beats being inside during boredom."
"You're not wrong."
She almost asked him what he was doing that weekend. The thought hovered, awkward and half-formed. She didn't ask. Not yet.
---
Back in class, the buzz lingered. Rumors spread. Someone's vape had exploded in a locker. Someone else had set off the alarm with hairspray. A freshman had tried to microwave aluminum foil.
None of it was confirmed.
By last period, Lena was exhausted. She dropped into her seat in art class and stared at the canvas in front of her.
Blank.
Mr. Raleigh paced slowly behind the easels. "Remember," he said, "art is about truth. Your truth. The one you're afraid to say out loud."
Lena frowned. Easy for him to say.
Still, she picked up her brush.
She painted a door. Not open, not closed. Just there.
A threshold.
Maybe that's what Jace was. Not the answer. Just the invitation to step through.
---
Monday brought rain. Heavy, drumming, relentless.
Lena forgot her umbrella. She ran across the lot with her hood up, shoes soaking through.
She wasn't the only one.
Inside, the halls were soaked with wet footprints and frizzy hair. Everyone looked miserable. Everyone but him.
Jace leaned against her locker when she arrived, holding something above his head.
An umbrella.
Bright red. Ridiculously small. Cartoon pineapples.
"Lost and found," he said by way of explanation.
Lena tried not to laugh. Failed.
"This your way of asking me to walk home with you?"
"Depends. You gonna say yes?"
She considered. Then nodded. "Fine. But I'm not holding the umbrella."
"Deal."
---
They walked home together. She lived only three blocks from school. He lived four. It made sense. Kind of.
They didn't talk much. Rain pelted the fabric above them. The sidewalk shimmered. Their shoes splashed in rhythm.
At the corner of her street, Lena stopped.
"Thanks for not making this weird," she said.
"You mean walking home in the rain with a pineapple umbrella isn't weird?"
"You know what I mean."
Jace looked at her. His eyes weren't just dark; they were focused. Honest.
"It doesn't have to be weird," he said. "Unless we want it to be."
Lena nodded. "Okay."
He handed her the umbrella. "You keep it. I think it suits you."
She held it like it was more than just nylon and plastic. Like it was proof of something.
Maybe it was.
---
That night, she couldn't draw. She couldn't focus. So she wrote.
One page. Then two.
Things she would never say out loud:
1. I like the way he listens.
2. I hate that I look for him in every room.
3. I don't think I hate him anymore.
---
On Thursday, Amanda cornered her at lunch.
"So. Are you guys dating?"
Lena choked on her sandwich. "What?"
"You and Jace. He waited outside for you yesterday."
Lena hesitated. Then: "No. We're just talking."
Amanda looked skeptical. "Talking, huh? Is that what we're calling eye contact now?"
Lena flushed. "Why does it matter?"
"It doesn't. Unless you're into him."
She didn't answer.
Which was answer enough.
---
By the end of the week, Lena realized something had shifted. Not just between them. But inside her.
She wasn't waiting to disappear anymore.
She was starting to show up.
And for the first time in a long time, that didn't scare her.
Not completely.
---
Part 2
---
The sky stayed gray all weekend. Lena spent most of it inside, curled on the couch with her sketchbook open on her lap and the red umbrella leaning against the wall near the door like some kind of mascot. She didn't draw anything new. She just kept flipping pages, back to old sketches of hallways, of locked doors, of faceless silhouettes.
Then she flipped to the last sketch she'd made—a door, just barely ajar—and paused.
"Lena!" her mom called from the kitchen. "Jocelyn's on the phone!"
Lena blinked, closing her book as she rose.
"Tell her I'll call her back!" she shouted, already halfway to her room.
It wasn't that she didn't want to talk to Jocelyn. It was just—she didn't know how to say anything yet. Everything felt too new to put into words.
---
Monday morning came, and with it the low-level buzz of the upcoming school dance. Flyers had gone up. Bright neon ones, taped to every blank surface, reminding students that the Winter Formal was exactly three weeks away.
Lena passed them all without a second glance.
Until Amanda practically shoved one in her face.
"You're going, right?" Amanda demanded.
Lena tilted her head. "To a dance?"
"Yes. The dance. The one with lights and music and people."
"Hard pass."
"Oh come on." Amanda fell into step beside her. "You're always saying you want to do something different. This is different."
"It's loud. And awkward. And filled with people pretending to like each other more than they actually do."
Amanda arched a brow. "And yet, you're friends with Jace now."
"That's not—" Lena broke off. "We're not like that."
"Sure. But does he know that?"
Lena didn't answer. Because she wasn't sure. Not anymore.
---
Later, in the library, she found him sitting alone. Headphones in. Sketching idly on a napkin with a pen that had definitely run out of ink ten strokes ago.
She slid into the seat across from him.
He looked up, grinned. "Hey."
"You draw?" she asked.
"Sometimes."
He turned the napkin so she could see. It was a crude rendition of the school's front doors, but instead of students, the hallway was filled with animals—bears in backpacks, raccoons with laptops.
Lena laughed before she could stop herself. "You're ridiculous."
"Not wrong, though."
He tore the napkin in half and handed it to her. "Here. You can have the part with the giraffe using the vending machine."
She pocketed it without thinking.
"You ever go to school dances?" she asked suddenly.
"Only the ones with giraffes."
She rolled her eyes. "Seriously."
Jace shrugged. "Once. Sophomore year. Left early."
"Why?"
"Didn't feel like pretending."
Lena nodded slowly.
He leaned back in his chair. "You thinking about going?"
"Everyone wants me to."
"That's not what I asked."
She glanced at him. "I don't know."
And that was the truth.
---
That night, she lay awake staring at the ceiling. The shadows were longer, the silence heavier. Her mom was working late, again. The house creaked in that old, familiar way that only felt lonely when you noticed it.
She got up. Went to the living room. Picked up the umbrella.
And for some reason, that made her feel better.
Not whole. But seen.
---
The next week passed in inches.
In art class, Lena found herself painting doorways again. Each one different. Some open. Some locked. One with a key sitting just beside it.
Mr. Raleigh noticed.
"These feel more like beginnings," he said.
Lena glanced up. "What do you mean?"
He smiled gently. "Before, your work felt like it was hiding. These feel like they're searching."
She didn't know how to respond to that.
So she painted another door.
This time, it looked suspiciously like the entrance to their school.
---
Jace stopped her by the lockers on Thursday. It had rained again, and he was carrying a different umbrella—plain black this time, but his smile was the same.
"Hey," he said. "There's this thing tomorrow."
She blinked. "Thing?"
"Movie night at the Rec Center. Some old comedy. Supposed to be bad in a good way. You wanna go?"
Lena hesitated. "Like… with you?"
"Yeah. I mean—you don't have to. It's not a thing-thing. Just a 'we happen to be watching a movie in the same place at the same time' thing."
She found herself smiling. "Okay."
He grinned. "Cool."
He walked away, whistling.
Amanda appeared from nowhere. "That sounded like a date."
"It's not."
"It sounded like one."
"It's not," Lena said again.
But the warmth in her chest said otherwise.
---
Friday came fast. Lena stood in front of her closet longer than she'd ever admit. She didn't want to look like she was trying. But she didn't want to look like she wasn't trying either.
In the end, she chose something in between. A deep green hoodie. Fitted jeans. Clean sneakers.
She met him outside the Rec Center. He was already there, leaning against the wall, hands shoved into his pockets.
He looked up and smiled. "You came."
"You doubted?"
"A little."
They went inside. The room smelled like popcorn and old carpet. Folding chairs were scattered in rows. A few students were already there, laughing too loudly.
Jace found them a spot in the middle. "Perfect viewing angle," he said.
The lights dimmed. The movie started.
It was bad. Gloriously bad.
They laughed. Hard.
And somewhere between a badly-timed explosion and a dramatic slow-motion chase involving a duck, Lena felt something settle inside her.
Something quiet. Something good.
Afterward, they walked slowly toward the parking lot.
"You wanna keep pretending this isn't a date?" Jace asked.
Lena looked at him. "I'm not ready to call it anything yet."
He nodded. "That's fair."
"But," she added, "I'm glad I came."
He offered her his hand. Not reaching. Just offering.
She didn't take it.
But she walked close enough that their fingers almost touched.
And for now, that was enough.
---