Page 61 of First Echo

Another silence, but somehow less heavy than before. I heard her shifting in her bed, the rustle of blankets as she turned to face me more fully.

"Can I ask you something?" she ventured.

"You just did."

"Something else, smart-ass."

I smiled into the darkness, surprising myself. "Go ahead."

"What was school like for you? You know, before we met," she ventured.

The question caught me off guard. It was so... normal. The kind of thing you'd ask someone you were just getting to know, not in the middle of whatever complicated mess existed between Madeline and me.

"Pretty average," I said after a moment. "I kept to myself mostly. It was easier to be invisible in a good way, not the bad way."

"What's the good way of being invisible?"

I considered her question, trying to put into words something I'd never really articulated before. "When you're known but not... watched. When people see you but don't scrutinize you. I could just exist without having to perform for anyone."

"That sounds nice," she said, her voice softer now, almost wistful. "I don't think I've ever been invisible a day in my life."

"Not even when you want to be?"

"Especially not then." She sighed. "People are always watching, always expecting something. Even when I'm alone, I feel like I'm being judged by some invisible audience."

The admission surprised me with its honesty. This was a side of Madeline I'd only caught glimpses of—vulnerable, reflective, free from the polished persona she presented to the world.

“Now it’s my turn" I said. "What was Madeline Hayes like before high school?"

Her laugh was quiet, tinged with something like nostalgia. "Bossy. Dramatic. I used to direct neighborhood plays and force Julian to be in them. I was pretty terrible."

"Not much has changed then," I teased.

"Hey!" she protested, but I could hear the smile in her voice. "I'll have you know I've refined my tyrannical tendencies."

"Is that what you call it?"

She laughed again, the sound somehow lighter, more genuine than I was used to hearing from her. It made something warm unfurl in my chest, something I tried not to examine too closely.

Our conversation flowed from there, easier than it had any right to be given everything that hung between us. There was still tension, but it was shifting into something different, something that made my skin prickle with awareness every time she laughed.

"What's your favorite class?" she asked. "Besides the ones you're annoyingly perfect in."

"History, actually," I admitted. "I took it sophomore year."

"Really? I wouldn't have guessed that."

"There's a lot you wouldn't guess about me."

"Like what?" Her voice had dropped lower, curiosity threading through it.

I hesitated, weighing how much to reveal. "I used to play piano. I can bake a decent soufflé. I secretly love terrible reality TV."

She gasped dramatically. "No. Notyou. Not serious, sarcastic Brooke Winters."

"Judge all you want, but 'The Bachelor' is peak entertainment."

"Oh my god," she laughed. "Wait till Victoria hears this."

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