Origins: The Fire (MILA 2.0, #0.5)(10)

“What’s the emergency?” But I shouldered my backpack and stood anyway. She nabbed my arm and plowed us between the rows of desk, almost tripping over Mary Stanley’s purple peace sign backpack and taking out Brad Zanzibar as he stooped over to tie his shoe.

Her trajectory led us straight to Hunter’s desk.

“Hi! I’m Kaylee, and this is Mila.” I tried to fade into the background, but she grabbed my arm and yanked me forward. “We figured you might want some help finding your next class.”

While Kaylee bounced on her toes and beamed, I froze. We figured? Since when?



My head whipped to the side. I hoped to stare her into a spontaneous confession, but she either didn’t notice or deliberately ignored me.

Hunter stood, hoisting his red North Face backpack over his shoulder before shoving his hands into his pockets. His eyes flitted from Kaylee to me and back again. He shrugged.

Of course that was all the invitation Kaylee needed. “Perfect!” she said, giving two baby claps. “Follow me.” As she scurried ahead, she used her left hand to inconspicuously flatten down the sides of her hair.

I stood there awkwardly, shifting my weight from foot to foot, wondering who was supposed to follow next, since the row was way too narrow for both of us to fit through together. Hunter glanced at me then, his eyes lingering on my face for three excruciatingly long seconds. Seconds in which I realized that in different light, his eyes lost their translucent quality and looked more opaque. Still that sky blue, but a weightier, more substantial version. “You first,” he finally said.

The combination of deep voice, slight smile, and offhanded invitation had a peculiar effect on my lungs, like I’d suddenly released a breath I hadn’t known I’d been holding.

I hurried after Kaylee and hoped that breathing in the hallway would prove less of a challenge.

Yeah, not so much. Students streamed both ways through the corridor, some rushing to class, others meandering. All of them varying degrees of loud. And with the exception of the few I exchanged hellos with in class, virtually every one of them was a stranger.

Plus there were no windows in this particular hallway, just rows of chipped forest-green lockers and classroom doors. Between the lack of natural light and the narrow space, it felt like being thrust inside a long, narrow trap.

“Where to?” Kaylee said as Hunter emerged. After he told her where his next class was—Room 132, Mr. Chesky—she tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow and tugged him along like a reluctant pull toy. I followed on her other side as she navigated us down the hall.

“So, you’re from San Diego? What’s it like there? Awesome, I bet. Do you surf?”

I peeked in front of Kaylee and watched Hunter tug his earlobe before responding.

“Yes,” he said solemnly. “If you don’t surf, you don’t graduate.”

Kaylee’s eyes widened. “No way, really?”

A twitch of his lips gave him away. She squealed. “Oh my gosh, you’re evil! Mila, can you believe this guy? He’s barely here for three seconds and he’s already teasing me!”

And now, all of Clearwater High knew about it, since Kaylee’s voice echoed down the corridor.

I coughed to cover my laugh. For all her good grades, Kaylee could really act dim-witted around boys, but they usually never called her on it.

Until now.



In her typical babble-a-thon manner, Kaylee managed to quiz Hunter on everything from whether he owned a pet—no—to his favorite singer—Jack Johnson—before we’d even turned the corner. Of course, his monosyllabic answers gave her plenty of time to talk.

Instead of listening to her, I watched him. He walked gracefully, like an athlete. He had a tiny mole on his left cheek, just where a dimple would be, and whenever Kaylee asked him a question that seemed this side of too personal—like, did he get along with his parents—he looked down at the ground before responding.

About five doors away from his drop-off spot, she finally abandoned the one-sided questioning and launched into telling him all about us.

“I’m from here, born and raised. Sad, isn’t it? But Mila’s not. Poor thing moved here from Philly a few weeks ago, when her dad died. We’ve been buds ever since,” she said, hooking her arm through mine and resting her head on my shoulder.

“When her dad died…”

I stiffened. Great. Unintentional or not, she’d managed to up my pathetic quotient and spew private details of my life, all in a few breezy sentences.

“Right,” I mumbled. Hunter stopped walking, which had a domino effect since Kaylee currently linked the three of us into some kind of crazy human chain. Kaylee jerked to a stop first, then me. I looked up to see Hunter staring at me over the top of her frizzy head.

“Sorry.”

Sorry. That was all he said. It was what he didn’t say that spoke volumes. He didn’t try to change the subject, or make hasty excuses to leave, the way Kaylee’s friends usually did.

For once, I didn’t feel like having a dead parent was contagious. “Thanks.”

The slam of a nearby locker interrupted us.

“Come on, we’re going to be late.” Kaylee’s voice sounded this side of sulky while her hand tugged on us, prompting the human chain back into motion. “Oh, look. There’s Parker and Ella.” If possible, she sounded even less enthusiastic than before, and I watched in surprise as she ducked her head. Too late. The girls saw us.