Page 12 of First Echo

I immediately noticed Madeline wasn't with her friends either.

Victoria sat down next to Sophie. Audrey sat down next to some other girl I had seen before but didn't know the name of. She was in my English class, always doodling in her notebook instead of taking notes.

I checked my phone. 6:57 AM. Three minutes to departure.

She told Mr. Sinclair she wouldn't be late, but it was already three minutes to seven. She'd made such a point of telling him she wouldn't be late, with that typical eye roll and smirk. Maybe she wasn't coming anymore. Maybe she'd changed her mind, orher parents had whisked her off on some exclusive vacation to Aspen or Vail instead.

I thought the idea of that would make me happy. But to my big surprise, it didn't. Maybe because I didn't know anything for sure yet. Or maybe because some small, irrational part of me was actually curious about what would happen if she were here too. I pushed the thought away, annoyed at myself for even caring.

The bus was almost full now. I could hear Mr. Sinclair outside, checking names off his list. Two of the other teachers were doing a final count of luggage and equipment. It was really happening. We were really going.

Finally, at exactly seven, Madeline walked onto the bus. Was she late because she overslept, or did she deliberately choose to make an entrance? Who am I kidding. It's definitely both. She had that carefully crafted look of someone who wanted to appear as though they'd just rolled out of bed looking perfect, but had actually spent an hour achieving the effect.

Her blonde hair fell in those perfect waves around her face, and she wore a designer ski jacket that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe. Despite the early hour, she had subtle makeup on that highlighted her cheekbones and made her blue eyes pop. She carried a small backpack that I was certain contained nothing of actual use for the trip.

The second she got on the bus, we both started looking around for empty seats. The noise level had dropped significantly as everyone watched Madeline make her way down the aisle. She had that effect on rooms—making everything else fade into the background. I saw her gaze sweep over her usual crowd, noting the lack of available seats. Sam and Julian were together, her friends were paired off.

And when we both eventually realized the only empty seat was next to me, we immediately locked eyes.

A shock went through my entire body. That's what her gaze felt like. It was electric, intense, like touching a live wire. Time seemed to slow down for a second, and I couldn't look away even if I wanted to. I tried to keep my face neutral, to not show the strange mixture of dread and anticipation coursing through me.

She looked kind of pleased at first, relieved even. But that only lasted for a second. It was such a brief flicker that I might have imagined it. Then she had her signature judgmental resting bitch face on again as she made her way toward the empty seat next to me, and sat down. She didn't say anything at first, just set her backpack on the floor and checked her phone, like she was already bored by the whole situation.

"I thought you said you'd be on time," I said with a hint of sarcasm, unable to stop myself from breaking the silence. The words came out before I could think better of them.

She turned to me, one perfectly shaped eyebrow raised. "Oh, so now you're talking to me?"

The way she said it. The way she looked at me when she said it, she was angry, but also a bit hurt. Maybe even both. Her blue eyes flashed with an emotion I couldn't quite pin down. It wasn't the cold dismissal I was used to seeing from her. It was something more complicated, more raw.

Did I actually hurt Madeline Hayes?

How? She was supposed to be untouchable, impervious to anything I could say or do. I was nobody, and she was... well, she was Madeline Hayes. The idea that something I did had affected her was so bizarre that I didn't know how to process it.

The bus engine revved louder, and Mr. Sinclair called for everyone's attention from the front. We were about to leave, five days of mountain freedom ahead of us. And somehow, I'd be spending at least part of that time right next to the last person I ever expected to share this trip with.

How did I end up here?

I wondered, sneaking another glance at Madeline's profile as she pretended to be deeply interested in whatever was happening outside the window.

And why can't I stop thinking about the look in her eyes when she asked if I was talking to her?

CHAPTER TEN

MADELINE

Four hours, six minutes, and twenty-three seconds. That's how long I sat next to Brooke Winters on that bus without speaking a single word to her. Not that I was counting or anything. The silence between us was... weird. Not uncomfortable exactly, but charged with something I couldn't quite name. Every now and then, our elbows would brush against each other when the bus hit a bump in the road, and I'd feel this strange jolt, like static electricity.

I spent the entire ride pretending to be asleep, or staring out the window, or scrolling mindlessly through my phone. Anything to avoid having to acknowledge her presence beside me. What was I supposed to say, anyway?

Sorry I was a bitch during our tutoring session? Sorry I asked why you don't have friends?Yeah, no. Madeline Hayes doesn't apologize, especially not to someone like Brooke Winters.

Besides, she didn't seem interested in talking either. The second I sat down, she put her AirPods back in and turned up her music so loud I could faintly hear it from where I sat. I couldn't make out what she was listening to, but it definitely wasn't the kind of mainstream pop that Victoria and Audrey obsessed over. Every so often, I'd catch her tapping her fingers against her thigh to the beat, her eyes closed, completely lost in whatever she was hearing.

I tried not to notice how peaceful she looked in those moments, how the tension seemed to drain from her face, softening the sharp edges of her usual guarded expression. It was annoying how she could just tune everything out like that, how she didn't seem to care what anyone thought of her. I've spent my entire life carefully curating what people think of me, and here was Brooke Winters, not giving a single damn.

At some point, I must have dozed off, because suddenly the bus was slowing down, and Mr. Sinclair was standing at the front, announcing our arrival. I blinked, disoriented, and realized with horror that my head had been leaning against the window at an awkward angle. My neck ached, and I could feel a patch of drool at the corner of my mouth.Great. I quickly wiped it away, praying that Brooke hadn't noticed.

When I glanced over at her, she was already gathering her things, her back partially turned to me. Her hair had fallen forward, obscuring her face, so I couldn't tell if she'd seen my embarrassing nap posture or not. She didn't say anything, just stood up as soon as the bus came to a complete stop, waiting for her turn to file out into the aisle.

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