The library at Westbridge High was a mausoleum of silence after hours, its towering shelves casting long shadows under the flickering fluorescent lights. Dust motes danced in the stale air, and the only sound was the faint hum of the vending machine in the corner. Ethan Harper sat alone at a study table in the back, his lanky frame hunched over a calculus textbook. His glasses slid down his nose as he scribbled equations, oblivious to the world.
At eighteen, Ethan was the kind of boy who blended into walls—pale, freckled, with messy brown hair that never quite obeyed a comb. He was brilliant, sure, but brilliance didn’t win friends. It won solitude.
The heavy library doors creaked open, and Ethan didn’t look up. Probably just Mr. Jenkins, the librarian, doing his rounds. But the click o
