Page 24 of First Echo

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I sat alone at the café table for a long time after Madeline stormed out, staring at her half-finished hot chocolate.

The mug was still warm, steam curling lazily into the air, as if she'd just stepped away for a moment and might return any second.

But I knew better. The look on her face when she'd left—that mixture of hurt and anger—told me she wasn't coming back.

What had I been thinking? The words had tumbled out before I could stop them, cutting deeper than I'd intended.

Do you even know who you are when no one's watching?

It was a brutal question, maybe an unfair one.

But something about Madeline Hayes made me reckless with my words, made me push boundaries I normally respected.

I sighed, rubbing my temples where a headache was beginning to form. The server approached, eyeing Madeline's empty seat.

"Everything okay? Can I get you anything else?"

"No, thank you," I replied, fishing out enough cash to cover both our drinks and a decent tip. "I'm heading out."

The mountain air felt sharper now, colder against my flushed cheeks as I strapped my board back on and pushed off down the slope.

I tried to lose myself in the familiar rhythm of carving through snow, but my mind kept replaying our conversation, dissecting every word, every reaction.

Usually, snowboarding cleared my head—the physical demands of it leaving no room for overthinking. Today, though, it failed me.

I took a few more runs, half-hoping to spot Madeline somewhere on the mountain, but she seemed to have vanished completely. By late afternoon, with the sun already beginning its descent behind the peaks, I decided to head back to the resort.

Back in our empty room, I paced restlessly.

Part of me wanted to just let it go—let Madeline cool off, avoid another confrontation.

But the longer I sat with it, the worse I felt.

I had crossed a line, pushing too hard on sensitive spots.

Whatever game we were playing, whatever strange dance of antagonism and unexpected connection, I had taken it too far.

I checked the time. Dinner would be starting soon, and attendance was mandatory. Maybe Madeline would be there, and I could apologize then. Or maybe it would be better to wait until after, when we could talk privately without an audience.

With a sigh, I changed into clean clothes and headed down to the dining hall.

The large room was already bustling with hungry students and teachers when I arrived.

I scanned the crowd, searching for that familiar blonde head, but Madeline wasn't among them.

Strange. She knew as well as I did that these group meals were required.

I filled my plate with food I didn't really want and found an empty seat at the end of a table, away from most of the chatter. Mr. Sinclair was making his rounds, checking attendance, his clipboard in hand. When he reached me, he paused.

"Ms. Winters, have you seen Ms. Hayes?"

I shook my head. "No, I haven't."

He frowned, making a note. "If you see her, remind her that dinner is mandatory. No exceptions."

As he walked away, I found myself wondering where Madeline was. Had our argument upset her so much that she was willing to risk getting in trouble just to avoid me? The thought made my stomach twist uncomfortably.

Midway through dinner, Victoria and Audrey entered, whispering to each other.

They sat with Julian and Sam, but Madeline wasn't with them.

I noticed Julian laughing loudly at something, clearly enjoying being the center of attention, while Sam kept glancing toward the door, as if expecting Madeline to arrive at any moment.

Something felt off about the whole scene. Where was Madeline? I pushed my food around my plate, my appetite completely gone now. The whole situation felt wrong, like I'd knocked over the first in a long line of dominoes and was now watching the chain reaction unfold.

After forcing down enough food to make it look like I'd eaten, I dropped off my tray and slipped out of the dining hall.

I needed to find Madeline—not just to apologize, but to make sure she was okay.

The fact that she'd missed mandatory dinner was concerning, especially given how much she usually cared about following rules when it suited her.

I needed to apologize. The realization settled in my chest, heavy and undeniable. Not just because we were stuck as roommates for the rest of the trip, but because I genuinely regretted hurting her. The admission surprised me—when had I started caring about Madeline Hayes's feelings?

After a quick shower and change, I steeled myself for what came next. Finding her. Apologizing. Two things that didn't come easily to me.

The resort's main lodge was busy with the after-skiing crowd, groups gathered around the roaring fireplace or clustered at tables with drinks in hand. I scanned the room, searching for that familiar blonde hair, but came up empty.

I approached a girl I vaguely recognized from school—Leah, maybe? She was in my English class, I thought.

"Hey," I said, the word feeling awkward in my mouth. I rarely initiated conversations with people I barely knew. "Have you seen Madeline Hayes?"

She looked surprised, probably wondering why I, of all people, was looking for Madeline. "I think I heard Victoria say something about the Timber Bar? It's that place about a five-minute walk from the resort."

"Thanks," I mumbled, already turning away.

The walk to the Timber Bar gave me time to rehearse what I'd say. A simple apology. Nothing dramatic. Just enough to clear the air so we could get through the rest of the trip without killing each other.

The bar was dimly lit, with exposed wooden beams and antler chandeliers casting a warm glow over the rustic space. It was crowded, mostly with locals by the look of them, though I spotted a few familiar faces from our school near the back. Not Madeline, though. Not yet.

I maneuvered through the crowd, my eyes scanning each corner. That's when I heard it—a familiar laugh, cutting through the noise. Julian Hayes. I spotted him by the bar, and if he was here, maybe Madeline was nearby too.

He was leaning against the bar, a beer in hand, surrounded by the usual crowd. Sam was there too, looking slightly uncomfortable as Julian held court. I hesitated, suddenly unsure about my plan. The last thing I needed was an audience for my apology.

But before I could decide whether to stay or go, Julian spotted me. His eyes lit up in a way that immediately put me on guard. That predatory gleam that made my skin crawl.

"Well, look who it is," he called out, loud enough to draw attention. "The snowboard prodigy herself. Come to show us more of your skills?"

I ignored him, scanning the bar for Madeline. That's when I spotted her, sitting alone at the far end of the bar, nursing what looked like a soda. Our eyes met briefly before she looked away, her expression unreadable.

I started to move toward her, but Julian stepped directly into my path, blocking my way. "Where are you rushing off to? The night's just getting started."

"Excuse me," I said, trying to step around him. "I need to talk to someone."

He moved with me, maintaining the blockade. "My sister, right? What's so urgent? Another snowboarding lesson scheduled? Or is it something more... personal?" The insinuation in his voice made my stomach turn.

"Julian," Sam said, a note of warning in his voice. "Come on, man."

Julian ignored him, his attention fixed solely on me. "You know, I've been thinking about it, and I just can't figure out why my sister suddenly seems so interested in spending time with you. It's not like you're actually friends."

I bit the inside of my cheek, determined not to take the bait. "Move, Julian."

"Or what?" he challenged, taking a step closer. The smell of beer on his breath made me want to gag. "You'll glare me to death? Or maybe you'll recite the periodic table until I pass out from boredom?"

"Stop," I said, my voice tight with controlled anger. "You're embarrassing yourself."

That hit a nerve. His smirk faltered, replaced by something harder, colder. "I'm embarrassing myself? That's rich coming from the girl with no friends, who spends all her time with her nose in a book because no one can stand to be around her."

I felt something crack inside me—a thin barrier between control and fury. "At least I'm not a pathetic, self-absorbed asshole who has to tear others down to feel good about himself."

The crowd around us had gone quiet, watching the exchange with morbid fascination. I caught a glimpse of Madeline over Julian's shoulder, now standing, her expression a mixture of shock and something else—concern, maybe?

Julian leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. "You know what I think? I think you're jealous. Jealous of my sister, jealous of her life, jealous of everyone who has what you don't. It must be so hard, being so completely... forgettable."

The words hit their mark with devastating precision, finding all the bruised, vulnerable places inside me. For a second, I felt like that lost, grieving girl again—the one who became invisible after her mother died, the one who learned that being forgotten was worse than being disliked.

"You don't know anything about me," I managed, hating the way my voice wavered.

"I know enough," he said with a cruel smile. "I know your mom bit it a few years back, and you've been a walking ghost ever since. Maybe if you weren't so busy feeling sorry for yourself, people might actually—"

I didn't let him finish. My fist connected with his jaw before I even realized I was going to swing. Pain exploded across my knuckles, but the shocked look on his face was almost worth it. Almost.