As soon as the words left her mouth, Jaynara Stevens looked straight at Ginevra.
She saw Ginevra draw breath, clearly about to speak.
Jayna rushed to cut her off.
"The rabbit on the last page is mine," she added quickly. "I like doodling in my books."
She couldn't give Ginevra any chance to argue.
Mr. Quinn frowned and picked up The Quiet Reason from Ginevra's desk.
He flipped it open, turned to the back—
And there it was: a simple rabbit sketched in black pen on the final blank page.
While he was looking down, Jayna seized the moment.
Her eyes flashed toward Ginevra, sharp and urgent.
Don't talk. Just this once—do what I say.
Ginevra stared back at her.
She understood perfectly.
And she hated it.
She didn't want Jayna dragged into this because of her. The realization scraped against her nerves, leaving her eyes hot and dry. For the first time in a long while, she felt completely at a loss.
"So you're saying this book is yours?" Mr. Quinn asked. "Do you even know what it's about?"
He held The Quiet Reason up slightly.
It wasn't exactly a trashy book—accusing it of being a "bad influence" felt a little unfair—but it certainly wasn't part of the syllabus.
"A novel by the Russian writer Dostoevsky," Jayna said. "As for what it's about… I think it's a sad and beautiful fantasy about love and loneliness."
Her tone was calm, but her eyes did not leave Lydia Westbrook.
No blinking. No wavering.
"I don't just read it for the story," she went on. "What hits me is the way it shows people at the bottom, the way they get crushed and pushed around by petty, malicious little people, how they have no power to defend themselves.
"You start to wonder why bad things keep happening to them, one after another."
Lydia shifted under that stare, suddenly unable to keep looking back.
She turned her head slightly, as if something on the far wall had become very interesting.
"You do know how to talk," Mr. Quinn said dryly.
He dropped the book onto Jayna's desk and asked,
"Then what was it doing in her bag?"
Jayna sighed, shoulders drooping, voice softening into something that sounded small and guilty.
"…Because I wanted to be on good terms with her."
She turned her head and looked at Ginevra with wide, wounded eyes.
"I mean, everyone knows," she said, letting her voice wobble just enough. "Ginevra has the best grades in our year, and she's a good person on top of that.
"Who wouldn't want to be friends with someone like that? My grades are pretty average, so I've always been trying to find ways to get close to her, to ask her to teach me.
"I know she loves reading, so I pushed my favourite book on her. She didn't really want it, so she said she'd give it back to me after school."
She flicked a glance at Calista Renner, who'd been watching anxiously from the side.
Calista understood at once.
"Sir, she really didn't mean anything by it," Calista put in, stepping forward. "Jayna honestly just wanted to improve her grades. She even asked me what book she should give to Ginevra. I didn't think she was serious, and then, well… she went and did this stupid thing."
At the mention of Jayna's name, something clicked in Mr. Quinn's mind.
He remembered her.
The daughter of that chemical plant owner.
The one who'd gotten into Class One through the principal's connections and had promptly shown up late on the very first day.
He'd even looked up her file once: strong results in middle school, near the top of her cohort—then a sudden slide after she hit high school.
"Mr. Quinn, I really do know I was wrong," Jayna said, her voice drooping even further. "I didn't think it would drag Ginevra into this. I really wasn't trying to cause trouble for her."
She stared down at her desk, guilt practically radiating off her in waves.
Mr. Quinn listened and, despite himself, felt his resolve waver.
He knew—better than most—that Ginevra would never casually break the rules.
And with another student voluntarily taking the blame, it wasn't hard to follow that path to a more convenient conclusion.
He sighed inwardly.
The book itself… The Quiet Reason… was not one of those truly poisonous novels he most hated.
But the rule was the rule.
He had to at least pretend to enforce it properly.
He tossed the book back onto Jayna's desk, his tone easing a notch.
"This kind of book is not to appear at school again," he said.
"Understood. It won't happen again," Jayna replied quickly, nodding.
"But your parents will still need to come in," he added. "School rules don't get broken without consequences."
He glanced at her drooping lips and watery eyes, then repeated, more firmly,
"Is that clear?"
"Clear," Jayna said at once.
Only then did the tension in his shoulders loosen a little.
He told himself he'd already been kind—no public notice, just a meeting with the parents.
He turned back to Ginevra.
She sat very straight, expression flawless once again.
But he'd seen the way she'd come unmoored for a moment earlier, because of the girl beside her.
It lingered in his mind.
"Sorry for the misunderstanding, Ginevra," he said finally. "You are, after all, a student I personally recommended. I should've known you wouldn't disappoint me."
He glanced at Ms. Harper, then added,
"We'll leave it at that for today. Seems anonymous letters can't always be trusted, either."
His expression twisted into something faintly ironic as he left the classroom.
Out in the hallway, he raised his voice at the gaggle of onlookers.
"What are you all staring at? Get back to your own classrooms unless you want your bags checked next!"
That broke the crowd like a wave hitting rocks.
The hallway emptied in seconds.
After the last bell, Jayna was summoned to the Academic Office, just as she'd expected.
The sky had gone from blue to a deep, smoky grey by the time the corridor lights flicked on.
Back in the classroom, the desk next to Ginevra sat conspicuously empty.
She glanced at the clock.
Six p.m.
She'd been sitting here alone for half an hour.
Her mind was a tangle.
She couldn't remember a single sentence from the last lesson; her notebook was still blank.
Shame burned low in her chest.
It was her book.
And she'd let Jayna carry the blame while she sat here untouched, like someone hiding under an umbrella someone else was holding up for her.
Cowardly.
Pathetic.
"Enough," she muttered under her breath.
She bit her lip, grabbed her bag, and walked out.
Her footsteps echoed through the mostly empty building until she reached the Academic Office.
The lights inside were still on.
Mr. Quinn's voice drifted faintly through the door, but she couldn't make out the words.
She stared at the closed door for a long moment, then sat down on the low stone ledge of a nearby flowerbed, facing it.
And she waited.
She didn't know how long.
Long enough that the sounds of the school faded to almost nothing, long enough that the corridor seemed to stretch like a tunnel.
When she finally checked her watch, it read 7:15.
Her neck ached from sitting in the same position, her back gone stiff.
She stood slowly and stretched, then tilted her head back.
The sky had cleared.
Stars pricked through the darkness, scattered and flickering—small, but bright enough to sting her eyes.
She took off her glasses and squinted up at them, the world turning softer around the edges.
She'd thought it might rain tonight, with how heavy the clouds had been earlier.
Instead, the sky was full of cold, precise little lights, trying their best to soften the emptiness overhead.
"Careful, miss," a familiar voice called playfully. "Admiring the night all alone is dangerous."
Ginevra turned.
Jayna stood there under the dim corridor light, smiling at her.
Without glasses, the world looked blurred.
But even through the blur, Ginevra could see the way Jayna's eyes shone, the curve of her mouth, the slight tilt of her head.
And from Jayna's side, the sight was almost unnerving.
Tall, pale, lips a soft, startling red, features sharpened by the half-dark—
Without her glasses, Ginevra looked almost like someone else.
Someone even more unreachable.
"Has anyone ever told you," Jayna said, half teasing, half awestruck, "that you look completely different without your glasses?"
Ginevra gave her a strange look, then slipped the frames back on as if to cut the moment short.
"Did they finish with you?" she asked.
Jayna nodded, stepping closer, tilting her face up with a mischievous little grin.
"Don't tell me…" she drawled. "You've been waiting here for me this whole time?"
"You already know," Ginevra said.
Her eyes slid away, but her voice betrayed her.
"How did it go?"
Jayna took a deep breath, then dropped her gaze, her expression twisting with exaggerated sorrow.
Seeing that look, something in Ginevra's chest tightened.
She was suddenly terrified of the answer.
"My dad was busy, so he sent Mr. Hart instead," Jayna began. "You have no idea how much Mr. Quinn likes to talk. He piled on all the noble reasons—everything 'for my own good,' of course.
"He scolded me for reading the wrong kind of books, said that since I got into this class through connections I should be doubly grateful, and that I was dragging you down.
"Then he said he was considering either—"
She broke off mid-sentence and risked a quick look at Ginevra.
"…either what?" Ginevra asked sharply.
Her expression had gone very serious.
"Either transferring me to another class," Jayna said softly, "or… making sure I don't sit next to you anymore. Forcing the teacher to move my seat."
She ducked her head, the picture of dejection.
Ginevra didn't hesitate.
She spun on her heel and started walking toward the Academic Office, her steps clipped and fast.
"Hey, where are you going?" Jayna spluttered.
It took her a good few seconds to register what was happening before she bolted after her and grabbed her arm.
"I'm going to tell Mr. Quinn everything," Ginevra said, eyes blazing. "You haven't affected me at all. There's no need to change classes; it's all my fault. I'll—"
She prised Jayna's fingers off her sleeve and turned again.
Jayna hadn't expected this kind of reaction.
She'd been worried for Ginevra all evening, but it hadn't occurred to her that the concern would go both ways.
A startled sort of happiness fluttered up inside her, almost ridiculous in its timing.
She yanked Ginevra back with all her strength.
"Hey, hey, I'm joking," she blurted. "I'm joking. Seriously. Please don't go—I can barely hold you back as it is!"
Ginevra stopped, turned, and narrowed her eyes.
"You're serious?"
Jayna nodded so hard her ponytail bounced.
Only when she saw Ginevra stop moving did she let go.
"Honestly," she muttered, pouting, "why's your reaction so big? I was just teasing you a little. Mr. Quinn only told Mr. Hart that I should read more, read better books, study harder. You know, 'be more like you.'"
"I don't want you dragged into trouble because of me," Ginevra said quietly.
A thin thread of apology wove through her tone.
She wasn't good at saying sorry straight out, but the guilt in her chest was heavy and real.
"Today's mess wasn't worth what you did," she added.
Jayna stared at her.
The distance in those words stung more than she'd expected.
"I wanted to," she said, a little sharply. "Is that not allowed?"
Something in Ginevra snapped.
She grabbed Jayna by the shoulders.
Her fingers dug in just enough to be felt.
"If you'd gotten publicly criticised today," she demanded, "if you'd been kicked out of this class because of this, do you have any idea how that would feel for me?
"It was my problem. Even if I was reported on purpose, it was still my problem. I can handle whatever comes from that.
"Why do you insist on taking the hit for me?"
Jayna winced—the grip actually hurt—but what shocked her more was the torrent of words.
The girl who usually rationed her sentences like they were gold coins was suddenly spilling them all in one breath, eyes dark and fierce.
She'd never seen Ginevra this openly angry, this openly… worried.
She was quiet for a long moment.
"Instinct," she said at last.
Ginevra's brows drew together.
"Instinct?"
Jayna pointed up at the sky.
Tiny stars winked above them, faint but stubborn.
Then she looked back at Ginevra, mischief and sincerity tanged together in her gaze.
"To me, you're like those stars," she said softly. "Bright and warm.
"You shouldn't have to be touched by anything dirty."
She shrugged one shoulder, half laughing at herself.
"Me, I've been scolded by teachers since forever. I've been publicly criticised before too. It's embarrassing, sure—but if someone has to go through that, I'd rather it be me than you.
"I really, really don't want to see you standing up there like that. Not even once."
Ginevra's throat tightened.
Her eyes prickled, the back of them suddenly hot.
She turned away quickly so Jayna wouldn't see her face.
Jayna moved around in front of her anyway, leaning in to peer up at her.
"Hey, what's wrong?" she asked softly.
When Ginevra still didn't answer, Jayna reached out and—not very gently—caught her chin, turning her head back.
She grinned, trying to defuse whatever this was.
"Is our little princess about to cry?"
"I am not," Ginevra muttered, batting her hand away.
She dropped into a squat, folding herself into a small, stubborn knot at the edge of the path.
She absolutely refused to acknowledge the ridiculous nickname.
Jayna didn't push it.
She'd seen it—just there, for an instant: that trembling edge in Ginevra's eyes.
The almost-tears.
She pretended not to notice, letting Ginevra keep that scrap of pride.
Instead, she poked her gently between the shoulder blades.
"Ginevra," she said. "Hug me."
Ginevra lifted her head in surprise.
Jayna coughed, suddenly flustered by her own boldness, and turned away a little, fingers fidgeting in her hair.
"I just… want a bit of comfort," she mumbled. "I was nervous too, you know.
"I'm not forcing you or anything, you can totally pretend I didn't say it, I just thought—"
She never finished the sentence.
Arms slid around her from behind, drawing her back against a warm, solid chest.
The touch was gentle but steady, and for a moment it felt like something sparking under her skin, short-circuiting her brain.
Ginevra's voice came after a while, soft beside her ear.
"Do you feel better?"
Jayna nodded automatically, her whole body suddenly light, her mouth tugging upward of its own accord.
She hadn't really believed Ginevra would agree.
Yet here she was.
She couldn't help it; playful sweetness curled into her tone.
"Well," she said, stretching the word, "now that you've hugged me, you'll have to take responsibility, you know~"
The hug vanished instantly.
Ginevra let go, swung her bag over her shoulder, and turned as if to walk straight home.
"Hey, you—"
Jayna grabbed her arm again, ready to launch into a dramatic complaint about heartless women—
And stopped.
Ginevra's cheeks were flushed a soft, tell-tale pink.
"Ginevra," she breathed, eyes widening. "You're blushing."
"I am not," Ginevra snapped, jerking her arm away.
Jayna latched on again, utterly shameless.
"You are. Come on, hold still, let me look."
"Go away."
She stalked off down the path.
Jayna laughed under her breath and trotted after her, her fingers brushing just lightly against the back of her hand as they walked into the star-dusted dark.