Page 27

Ethan stepped out from behind the thicket of trees where he’d gone, a towel slung over his shoulder and his hair still damp from a dip in the river. He picked up his phone from the edge of the picnic blanket, thumb hovering above the screen.

His usual smirk faltered—just for a second. So fast, I could’ve blamed it on the way the sunlight shifted through the leaves.

His eyes scanned the message. His pupils narrowed, like he’d spotted something he'd hoped never to see.

Then, without a word, he locked the screen and dropped the phone back onto the blanket.

No sigh. No curse. No visible reaction at all.

As if whatever he'd just read had never existed.

I waited. Maybe he’d scoff, say something about scam texts or cryptic messages from his dad. Maybe he’d shrug it off like everything else.

But he didn’t.

He just turned, walked over to his backpack near the rocks, grabbed a fresh shirt, and slipped away behind the reeds to change.

And that was it.

It was an act. I knew it, and he probably knew that I knew it, but neither of us said a word. Whatever was on that screen, Ethan wasn’t going to talk about it.

And if he wasn’t talking, I wasn’t asking.

Not yet.

We went back to the bus and raved off the woods, heading towards something that vaguely resembled civilization.

The ride (after a swift breakfast meal in a shitty hotel) was loud, chaotic, and—thanks to Joy—filled with whatever off-key nightmare she decided to call singing.

Max, as usual, joined in enthusiastically, leading a rusty chorus.

Mia recorded everything with her phone, while Shun kept her nose buried in Her’s, liking memes between half-hearted hums.

Meanwhile, I buried myself in research—anything that could keep me busy in the next few hours of travel before our next stop—pretending to be too busy to engage with any of it.

Ethan?

He was fine.

At least, that’s what he wanted everyone to think.

He played his usual role with ease—stealing snacks, charming people into giving him extra food, stretching out across multiple seats like he owned them. If anyone else had read that message over his shoulder, they would’ve believed he hadn’t even noticed it.

But I wasn’t anyone else.

I caught the pauses. The moments where his gaze lingered on the passing scenery a little too long. The way his fingers drummed against his knee, restless. The way his laugh came a fraction of a second late, like he was running on autopilot.

Something was on his mind.

Something he wasn’t willing to share.

And, of all days, it had to be today.

His birthday.

I wasn’t sure how many people actually knew. Maybe Joy—she was the type to keep track of everyone’s birthdays.

But Ethan himself?

Not a word.

No mentions of it. No subtle hints. No smug, self-satisfied comments like, “Wow, can you believe

I have to suffer through this bus ride on my birthday?”

If anything, it didn't seem like he could even remember it.

Lunch was at a rundown diner in the middle of nowhere. The kind of place with peeling menus, sticky tabletops, and a jukebox in the corner that hadn’t worked since before any of us were born.

We all crammed into a booth, elbows knocking, legs awkwardly squished together. Max immediately tried to convince the vampire waitress to give us a “student discount” (which didn’t exist), while Joy attempted to “enhance the ambiance” by belting out the lyrics to a song playing over the speakers.

The waitress looked like she was one bad tip away from quitting on the spot.

I focused on normal things—like making sure my fries stayed on my own plate and triple-checking my notes for the documentary. Anything to keep my mind from drifting back to Ethan.

He, meanwhile, was putting on a show.

Grinning, flirting with the waitress just enough to get extra napkins, stealing someone’s soda when they weren’t looking. If I hadn’t seen his reaction earlier, I might’ve actually believed him.

But there were cracks.

Between the jokes and the easy charm, I could still see it—that slight detachment, the way his focus drifted when he thought no one was watching.

I wanted to ask. Desperately.

But I didn’t.

By the time we got back on the road, the initial excitement had died down. The bus was quieter now—half the students were asleep, and the rest were too tired to keep up the chaos.

Ethan sat two rows ahead of me, his head tilted against the window, staring out at the passing landscape. He hadn’t spoken in a while.

He looked tired.

Not physically.

Not in the way you do after a long day of travel.

But the kind of tired that sits deeper, like he was holding something heavy and refusing to put it down.

I watched him for a moment, debating.

Then, before I could talk myself out of it, I reached over and nudged the back of his seat with my foot.

Nothing.

I tried again.

Still nothing.

Finally, without looking back, Ethan muttered, “What?”

I hesitated.

You okay? —too obvious. What was on your phone? —way too direct. I noticed you’re acting weird—nope.

So instead, I went with, “You good, man?”

He let out a quiet snort, shaking his head. “What, are you worried about me, Ghost Boy?”

“No,” I lied. “Just checking if you died or something.”

A beat of silence. Then—

“Still alive,” he said.

And that was the end of it.

As the sun dipped lower, we finally pulled into a small roadside motel.

The kind of place where the neon sign flickered uncertainly, and the receptionist looked like she had seen some things.

Mr. Dax stood at the front of the bus, clearing his throat. “Alright, listen up! We’re staying here for the night before continuing in the morning. Everyone, grab your bags and—”

I barely heard the rest—probably the usual “don't sneak out” or “make sure you sleep with your lights off” kinds of instructions—because as I stood up, stretching out my stiff limbs, I glanced at Ethan.

And for just a split second—before he noticed me watching—I saw it.

That same faraway look. That same shadow in his expression.

Whatever was on his mind, it was still there.

Still lingering.

And I had a feeling it wasn’t going away anytime soon.

Just after slinging my bag over my shoulder, I felt a tap on my back.

Max.

I didn’t even have to turn around to know what this was about. The guy had been practically vibrating with excitement all day, barely able to contain whatever scheme he and the others had cooked up. I sighed internally, already bracing myself.

He leaned in, lowering his voice to a whisper like we were spies exchanging classified information. “Sneak him out to the beach at midnight.”

I glanced at him, unimpressed. “Why?”

Max wiggled his eyebrows like that was supposed to be an answer.

I blinked at him. He sighed, like I was the dense one here, then finally elaborated, “That's where we are throwing Ethan a surprise party.”

Instantly, I was caught off guard by the realization that I hadn't decided what to get him. I had been so absorbed by his behavior all day that I completely forgot to get him something.

Not like I knew him enough to know what to get him, or if he loved gifts.

Would it be weird if I got him something?

Would it be weird if I didn’t?

I stole a glance at him.

He was laughing at something one of the jocks said, effortlessly blending into the conversation like he always did. There was no sign that today meant anything special. No hints, no smugness, no self-congratulatory remarks.

I frowned.

Had he really not told anyone?

“Does he even know you guys planned this?” I asked, keeping my voice just as quiet.

Max snorted. “Of course not. That’s the whole point of a surprise party, genius.” He smirked. “But knowing Ethan, he probably suspects something by now. Guy has a sixth sense for this stuff.”

I hesitated.

It wasn’t like I had a reason not to go. I had already been roped into this whole trip, and if everyone was sneaking out anyway, it wasn’t like I could stop them. Besides, if I didn’t go, Max would probably drag me there himself.

“Wouldn't it be obvious if I ask him to sneak out with me?” I quizzed.

“Only if you suck at it.”

I threw a surreptitious glance at Ethan, as if he was the answer to all the universe's questions. Still, something about him was… off.

Maybe the party would help. Maybe it wouldn’t. Either way, I made my decision.

I sighed, adjusting my bag. “Fine. I’ll see what I'll do.”

Max grinned like he had just won a bet. “Knew you would come. Make sure you bring him with you.”

Then, before I could change my mind, he jogged off to harass someone else into joining the plan.

I shook my head.

Midnight at the beach, huh?

This was either going to be fun.

Or an absolute disaster.

Maybe both.

No in-between.