Unsung Requiem by C.L. Stone

Custos

(Symbol at the end of a staff of music, indicating the pitch for the first note of the next line, a warning as to what is to come)

Sang

“It was awful,” I told Nathan the next morning. Gabriel and I had stayed out late. Eventually, he had to drop me off, promising to go pick up Silas. Nathan had been sent home too.

Kota let us know what Victor said, that he was disappointed in us. He tried to suggest that it was the others, not me, but I felt pretty guilty, too.

Lethargy filled every part of my muscles until it felt like I was carrying extra lead weights along with me. Anxiety hit hard after the crazy day before. My palms shook. The sleep shorts I wore were mismatched from the loose T-shirt, as I’d just grabbed whatever and fell into a hard sleep. I didn’t even notice Nathan crawling into the bed. My clothes from the party were still in a pile on the floor. “You should have seen their faces. They were stunned. I don’t know what he said to them before I got there.”

Nathan stood at the stove, bare chest with shorts that he’d slept in. He had gotten up before me and started making breakfast, which had lured me into the kitchen. He flipped over a fried egg at the stove and kept his eyes on his cooking. “Sounds like drunk Victor likes to tell people what he’s really thinking. Telling his parents he wants to leave them. Not wanting to play the concerts he doesn’t like playing. It’s all the stuff he’s been saying for a while, just not to the people who mattered.”

I’d sat at the kitchen bar on a stool. I kept my hands pressed to my face to hide the redness and warmth that I could feel creeping in from my neck. Was that true? Saying what he was really thinking?

So when he said he loved me…

I didn’t say anything back to him. Would he remember? I read about people who were drunk and couldn’t remember what happened. Still, I should have said something.

That I cared.

That I felt the same.

I wanted to; I was just too stunned.

Would he think I didn’t?

I’d sent him a text to say hi to him. I’d checked my phone a hundred times, hoping for an answer. I didn’t want to bother too much if they were still sleeping though. I slumped forward, gently pressing my face against the granite counter. Smooth. Cold to my skin. Soothing. “I hope he’s okay. There hasn’t been a message, has there?”

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Nathan said before I could think any further. I sensed him coming over and putting a hand on the back of my head gently. “Don’t worry about Victor. And his parents will probably take him back if he’ll apologize for his odd behavior, claim he was drunk. He’ll be okay. We’ll be back to normal.”

I picked my head up, and his hand slid off. He stood across the counter, his chest slowly rising and falling with his breath, his red hair that had been growing out and curled a little at the edges.

It was his intense blue eyes that told me he wasn’t really happy. The more I got to know them, the more I began to understand them through the expressions they carried. I’d once thought it was magic the way they wordlessly would communicate to each other. In reality, I was learning they simply carried their emotions openly, and had been around each other so long that it became easy to understand what the other was thinking.

With this, Nathan’s wary gaze said a lot to me. “Maybe he shouldn’t,” I said. “If that’s how he really feels, like you say. Isn’t it better that he says what he’s really thinking?”

Nathan’s eyes drifted around the kitchen, to the eggs still cooking, and the bread out, ready to make toast. “I don’t know,” he said, his deep voice gruff today with the lack of sleep. “His parents are cruel people, but he’s stayed with them this long. They treat him like a puppet, dangling the money in front of him and telling him he’s a brat if he doesn’t do what they want. I understand Victor would want to try to be reasonable with them and try to keep a connection. They are his parents and there’s always that hope they still care about you. I always kind of thought there was a reason Mr. Blackbourne didn’t just come up with a way to move him out.”

“He’s not unsafe there, is he?” I asked.

“It’s mental,” he said. He made a hand in the shape of a gun, pointing at his temple. “They get in his head, make him think he’s worthless unless he does what they want. His parents are the shining example of not understanding what it’s like to be genuinely a good person and supportive of family. It’s more important how they look to other people. Before we got there, they had him on strict diet and exercise routines… at like six years old or whenever it was. Because he’d gotten ‘pudgy.’ If you consider round cheeks on a kid pudgy…”

“So he shouldn’t be there,” I said.

“I can’t make that decision. Sometimes a person has to make a decision for themselves, I guess.”

It didn’t seem fair to make him stay. When I’d been around Victor’s house, for the most part, his parents seemed to stay away from him unless they wanted him to do something, like a concert. Otherwise, it felt like he was left to his own devices. Abandoned.

Nathan smiled at me, and it was such a strange expression in the moment I sputtered a bit instead of asking what he was thinking.

He softly chuckled. “You know, I used to be jealous about it, but I really love when you get so caught up and worried about someone on the team. You just can’t seem to settle down until everyone is happy.” He took a half step backward toward his cooking again. “Makes me think this might actually work… and that maybe sometimes you get that worried look when I’m in trouble.”

I did worry about them. All the time.

I slid off the chair and walked around to where Nathan was cooking. I stood behind him, wrapped my arms around his waist, and pressed my head against his back. My forehead sticking to his bare skin.

He ignored me for just a minute while he was fiddling with his cooking and then turned to me, reached around my shoulders, and hugged me close. He kissed my forehead, close to the hairline.

He didn’t say anything. He just held on to me.

Some of the tension eased from me. They all seemed to have that ability to stop me worrying so much.

Instead of letting me go, he walked me backward until my butt was against the kitchen island. He scooped me up by my thighs until I was sitting on the counter.

I was a head above him now, looking down at his face.

“Now,” he said, his blue eyes gazing at me, “I want you to promise me you’ll stay here and let me finish making you breakfast. We’ll take a nice long walk outside until they get here. Or call and tell us to go somewhere.”

“Shouldn’t we…”

He reached up, pressing a thick finger at my mouth.

I automatically popped my lips open and kissed the tip.

He smiled. “Stop worrying so much. I love that you care and I want to hear you out, but you need a break. Trust me. Everyone is fine or they’d be calling to say they are not ok and need help. You’re going to drive yourself crazy if all you focus on is worrying about everyone else.”

He was probably right about that.

I was about to say something else when the doorbell rang.

Nathan quickly pulled away and picked up his cell phone. I assumed he was checking the front door camera. “It’s Victor. What’s he doing here this early?” He felt his body, as if trying to remember how dressed he was, and realized he was still just in boxers. He motioned. “He probably just doesn’t have his key on him or something. Go answer it?” He turned off his frying pan, setting it aside, and headed to the bedroom.

I climbed down from the kitchen stool, scooting across the stone floor barefoot to go around a corner and head to the front door.

The tiny spyhole glowed with the morning light shining in on it. Just double-checking it was him.

My eyes slowly adjusted to the change of view, finding Victor’s brown eyes oddly enlarged on his face as he looked on, waiting on the porch.

I opened the door quickly.

Victor was in the same outfit as last night, the fancy gray suit with the black T-shirt-like dress shirt, only the entire thing was rumpled. He kept his head bowed and juggled two small bags under each arm. Wavy locks of brown hair hung in his eyes more, and the waves in the back were splayed out in odd directions.

He lifted his head as I stood there quietly.

We studied each other. His dark eyes, the usual fire diminished. I’d never seen him so down, so unsure, and entirely devoid of feeling.

He frowned and his baritone voice was raspy as he spoke. “I moved out,” he said.

I could only stand there, staring out at him in mild shock. Unmoving. Unsure what to do.

Did he really?

Did he remember last night at all?

Was he… moving in?

“Are you okay?” I eventually squeaked out.

He nodded but before he could say anything else, Nathan came up behind me, putting a hand on the small of my back. He had changed into sport shorts and a red tank shirt and looked curiously out. “Victor?” he asked. “What happened?”

Victor dropped the bags on the porch, sighing like he was uncomfortable. Behind him in the drive, Kota was trying to tug a large trunk out of the back of his car.

“Let me go help him,” Nathan said, skirting around me and Victor. He jogged over in bare feet to help Kota figure out how to wedge the trunk out.

I leaned in, reaching for one of the bags Victor had dropped. “Come on,” I said. The bag was leather, heavy, and the silver nameplate glinted in the light: Alexander McQueen. A brand name, I assumed. With it being very overloaded, I tried to carry it carefully, worried it might break open.

Victor picked up the other bag that appeared very similar, expensive, and filled to capacity as well.

We carried them inside and I paused back in the kitchen, wondering which direction to go. Nathan’s bedroom? Nathan had moved out a lot of his own things in order to fit mine into his closet, but it was already getting overcrowded again with stuff the other boys often put in there, too, like extra clothes for when they spent the night, and occasionally extra laptops and cameras and other equipment. Victor’s large trunk and the two bags might fit, but it’d be tight.

And where were we going to sleep? In Nathan’s bed together? It wasn’t uncommon for three to share the bed, and there was a couch. Would it be okay for the long term?

How was this going to work?

“Where should we…” I asked.

“Maybe his dad’s room,” Victor said.

There was a short hallway just past the garage door. At the end of the hall was the laundry room. But the door to the right was closed, the master bedroom of the Griffin house. We’d used the room on occasion already, but for the most part, we stayed out of it.

Victor walked around me toward it, opening the door.

The waterbed was neatly made, the bedroom tidy, with knickknacks and other items on top of the dressers and side tables. There was a large mirror across the room over top a counter in an alcove between the closet and the door that led to the bathroom. Our images reflected there as we stepped in, looking around at the quiet space.

Victor dropped his bag on the waterbed, and the bed made a slight dent, the bag nearly sliding off to the floor. “Not my favorite place to sleep,” he said. “The bed makes a dip in the middle usually. Maybe we can get a different bed in here…”

I placed the other bag gently on the floor. Move the bed out? “Won’t his father notice if he comes back?”

“The Academy would warn us if he did,” Victor said, although he didn’t sound like himself. His whole stance was different. Droopy. Defeated.

“We’d have to swap out the beds again if he did,” I said. “And I’m not sure where we’d go while he was here.”

Victor sighed, looking up at me.

Again, a connection between us. Neither one of us was sure how to approach the other. It wasn’t a divide, more like treading softly after last night.

Are you really okay?I wanted to ask him, but hesitated.

Do you remember last night?

I didn’t care what other people thought of him. None of them knew him like we did. I worried it bothered him now. Did he regret any of it?

Was it all how he really felt?

Was what he said to me… was that how he really felt?

I didn’t want to ask him. Not right now. We all needed time to let things settle.

Footsteps. A bang of wood against wood. A curse. From the front door, Kota and Nathan trudged a cumbersome trunk into the house. The trunk itself was faux antique style, dark with brass buckles on the front. They stopped in an awkward angle half still in the hallway, half in the kitchen, and put it down with a thud.

“What’s in this thing?” Nathan asked. He rubbed at his shoulder. “Did you get your piano in there?”

“No,” Victor said. “It’s mostly Sang’s clothes. And anything Academy I could hide underneath. I couldn’t let them find it.”

“It’s the only stuff they’d let him take out of the house,” Kota panted, short of breath and holding his hands at his hips. “They wouldn’t let him bring anything of his own if he was leaving. We claimed there was stuff from the rest of us in his closet as well. We might be allowed back to reclaim it, but we were worried they’d go through and find… things they shouldn’t. So we took all that first.”

Nathan seemed surprised. “They left you with nothing?”

“They took the car back,” Victor said in a dead tone. “Both of them. The bags mostly have personal stuff they didn’t see any value in and nothing else. The clothes on my back. The bags themselves were all they let me leave with.”

“They tried to inspect it all,” Kota said. “Luckily the trunk has a false bottom for Academy gear.”

“Everything is gone,” Victor said blankly. “They already turned off the credit card. I’m completely out.”

“So we’re not apologizing?” Nathan asked.

The tired eyes of Victor finally sparked to life, only to answer his question. “Never,” he said. And then a second later, the fire was gone and he went back to appearing tired.

Silence fell between us all. Victor refusing to ask forgiveness for what happened. Of course, we stood with him in his decision. If his parents couldn’t understand he didn’t want to be their puppet anymore, and they kicked him out for that…

It seemed surreal. But wasn’t this a good thing? Nathan had said they were mentally not good for Victor.

But hadn’t I felt odd to be out from under my own parents? Even now, I sensed the occasional tug at my memories, questioning times when I was younger and when I last thought we had been a normal family. Your own parents are supposed to be your family. They should want to make sure you’re okay and support you and love you no matter what. That’s what we were taught by all the childhood songs, stories, and movies. That’s what we saw all around us with our friends at school.

There was always a layer of guilt that I carried with me now. That somehow if only things had been different, maybe I would have normal parents that loved and cared about me. It had started to get better, the feeling being replaced every time the guys near me made me feel wanted. It was a new normal to get used to.

The emptiness was still inside, though. In the back, somewhere. I sometimes forgot, but it was there.

Did his own mother not care what happened to him?

“What happens now?” I asked quietly. “They won’t come after you to come back?”

“They think it’s a phase,” Victor said. “That the moment I need money, I’ll come back begging and will apologize and agree to do whatever they say. They might even hold a party for it.” He rolled his eyes. “They think I wanted that car. I never asked for anything. Not one thing. And I don’t want any of it. Not if it means I’m on stage and pretending to be someone I’m not.”

There was another moment of silence. Victor had never been so outspoken about this before. It was like last night triggered something in him.

“Still, it’ll be different now,” Nathan said. “We don’t need the black card or their money. We’ll just have to budget a bit.”

Victor smiled at that. “I don’t need anything. Really.”

“You need a place to live,” Kota said. “Food, clothes… now a car.”

Victor started to say something and stopped, considering. “I guess if it wasn’t for Nathan’s dad being gone…” He turned to him. “I know we don’t need to ask technically, but is it okay that I stay here?”

“Sure,” he said. “Unless you prefer Dr. Green’s. Or Kota’s. Wherever.”

“And do I have clothes still around here?” Victor said. “I’m not completely without.”

“There’s some at my place,” Kota said. “I think we can pick through emergency kits for the essentials.”

“I feel bad that I had to leave behind things,” Victor said, “but maybe… maybe I needed out.” He touched the collar of his expensive-looking crumpled suit. “Maybe I need a new look.”

A knock at the door got everyone’s attention.

“I’ll get it,” Nathan said, heading to the door.

The rest of us went into the kitchen. Kota checked on what Nathan had made for breakfast, the now cool fried eggs and bread still waiting to be made into toast, when Nathan came back around.

Followed by Mr. Buble. His outfit had few changes, a crisp white shirt, black tie, black pants, the glasses gleamed. His hair was parted on the side, combed, the dark locks formed into place, and didn’t move.

He stood tall, shoulders back, and carried with him a leather-bound notebook.

“Good morning,” Mr. Buble said, his tone precise with every syllable. “It’s an excellent Sunday.”

His strict expression made the sentiment and good tidings feel a bit weird. Probably because we didn’t know him very well.

“It is a nice morning,” Kota said, taking the lead on this. He touched briefly at a kitchen towel to clean up his fingertips and moved around, holding a hand out toward Mr. Buble. “I hear you’re Sang’s new manager. I don’t believe we’ve met yet individually, but I remember you from camp. Mr. Buble, yes?”

Mr. Buble shook Kota’s hand a few times and released it quickly. “Of course. Dakota Lee. Yes, I’m here as Miss Sang Sorenson’s new manager. And I believe I’ve been informed…” There was a small pause and turn as he held out a hand toward Victor. “That you might be in need of a manager at this time as well.”

I held my breath, unsure. It was easy to forget that the others, Victor as well as Kota and Nathan and the rest, weren’t actually full-fledged members like Dr. Green and Mr. Blackbourne. While I was still in something of an introductory phase, they were still trying to graduate. From what Mr. Buble said before and from what I understood, anyone not graduated who might need some guidance and the help of an actual adult got a manager.

Victor’s tired expression drooped a little at the mouth but he still shook Mr. Buble’s hand politely. “So you’ve heard?”

“I prefer to be kept up to date on any occurrences surrounding someone under my management.” He released Victor’s hand, turning to me. “And as your manager, I prefer to hear from you when there’s trouble and not the morning after from an associate.”

“Oh,” I said, gingerly shaking his hand. His grasp was strong. “It wasn’t much trouble. We only needed to leave the party right after I got there.”

“I’d still like an update when possible, especially given the circumstances surrounding what happened.” He released and shook Nathan’s hand. Once completed, he looked around the house, particularly at the trunk on the floor they’d had to walk around to get into the kitchen. “I understand the arrangements for this house are in the middle of changing?”

Before I could even think what to say, Kota piped in. “I’ve prepared everything to move around to adjust to the new circumstances. Sang has been staying with me or in other homes off and on when needed, and we’re about to set up Nathan’s dad’s bedroom for her in a semi-permanent way. Victor may need to share space with Nathan or choose to sleep on the move like she has.”

Oh. I suppose what he said was true, but I hadn’t known I’d be moving into the dad’s bedroom.

But we couldn’t just tell him I’ve been sleeping in beds between everyone else on the team. I couldn’t imagine the reaction after that. It made sense to say that I was getting that bedroom, and Victor and Nathan would share.

Victor piped in, “I was just telling her we may want to trade out beds if we can do that. The waterbed is hard to sleep on.” No one said anything contrary to how Kota explained things.

“It seems we already need one bed, for you, Victor,” Mr. Buble said. He turned to Nathan. “Would you mind showing me the space you’ve got? I’d like to get a feel for what we’ll be needing here.”

I pressed my lips together and turned a bit, not wanting to share my surprise and fear that it’d be discovered Nathan and I had been sleeping in the same bed less than an hour ago.

Nathan moved on, giving a small tour of his bedroom and describing the layout. Nathan kept talking, as if to let us in the kitchen know where they were at every second.

Kota motioned for us to move closer and whispered, “Let me try to assure him we can handle this. He might be managing, but I’m still family lead.”

“He’s going to find out…” Victor hissed at him.

I agreed.

“We can’t just shoo him off,” Kota said. “The Academy will ask why and want answers. And Sang does technically get a manager… we just need to satisfy him that it isn’t needed except for when handling Academy jobs perhaps.”

“If they find out, they’ll question us all,” Victor said. “I know they need to know eventually. How long do we need to keep this up not telling them?”

Kota considered this. “We need to find Mr. Blackbourne and…”

Before we could continue, Mr. Buble was coming through the hallway again, and Nathan was showing him the bathroom, within our view. We had to back away from each other and Kota returned to leaning against the sink, picking up a rag, and wiping at the counter.

Victor adjusted a chair at the table, tucking it in slightly. I started to finish breakfast but I didn’t know if I needed to make more for the others here or not. So I settled into standing on the far side of the kitchen island, unsure what to do next.

“And what about that area?” Mr. Buble asked, pointing to the room opposite Nathan’s bedroom.

“It’s an office right now,” Nathan said. “I only go in there to use the computer sometimes and I try not to touch too much. If my dad comes back, he’d notice.”

“Would he say the same about his bedroom?” Mr. Buble asked.

Nathan nodded. “It’s why I have Sang’s stuff in my room and this bathroom, but since we’re getting Victor, too, we’ll need more space. We’ve used the bed and that’s manageable. It’s the things on the dresser, in the closet that he’d probably notice if we moved them around too much. But we’ll have to take the risk. And I don’t think the Academy wants me here when he returns, so they’d give us plenty of notice to be able to return it to normal. I want to take pictures of where everything is so we can replace it exactly.”

“I see,” Mr. Buble opened the office door, taking a brief look inside.

I pictured the desk, the file cabinets, the pictures of helicopters on the wall. It had a closet and wood floors instead of carpet, with a rug in the middle. Technically a third bedroom just converted to an office space. I always thought it was funny for it to be an office when Mr. Griffin was never really here.

Mr. Buble had Nathan show him the master bedroom, the waterbed, the closet, the bathroom attached to it. He backtracked and closed the door again, motioning for Nathan to join him back in the kitchen.

He stood at the kitchen counter and spoke to us. “I feel we could use some time together to lay some groundwork and talk about the immediate future. It may be everyone on the team at current could use some outside perspective.” He waved a hand shortly toward the fridge. “Shall I help make some more breakfast for everyone?”

It wasn’t really a question. He was more insisting.

I’d really preferred to get some time alone with the others to figure out how to handle a manager and what we were supposed to do now. However, I couldn’t help think maybe I was acting ungrateful he was here. Should we hear him out? He was Academy, wasn’t he? He seemed interested in helping us.

I tentatively nodded, as did the others.

Mr. Buble took off the black suit coat he’d worn. He rolled up his sleeves neatly and tucked the tie back inside the collar to get it out of the way. He went to a couple of aprons that hung on a hook that I’d never even noticed before and he picked one up, covering his clothes carefully in black cotton material. He got to work making the toast.

Kota took over making eggs, some scrambled this time, and Nathan checked the fridge for any fruit.

Victor and I were the only ones standing by until Kota suggested we set the table.

There was something odd-feeling about Mr. Buble here, joining us for breakfast. Maybe because he was an adult. Mid to late thirties… Mr. Buble’s style and sometimes his tone felt strict and uptight, however his actions were different. While I expected him to be somewhat adult and talk to us like we were children, he was making us breakfast, being kind and offering to help. It was going to take getting used to someone much older who wasn’t actually out to get us.

Trust the Academy, right? It was harder than it sounded.

Within what felt like minutes, the table was set with scrambled eggs, the fried eggs rewarmed, toast, and a fruit salad. Instead of a simple plate and fork, Mr. Buble set out napkins and water glasses for everyone. The feeling became more formal than what we usually did.

At first, I wasn’t thinking about it, but Nathan and I were still in pajamas. It stuck out to me with the others fully dressed, and Mr. Buble impeccably dressed, how out of place we were. No one seemed to care to mention that we were different. Like Mr. Blackbourne, Mr. Buble seemed to draw out a feeling inside of me to be… better. Even if he never said a word or indicated I should.

He made sure we all had full plates before he settled down with his own with just a little bit of scrambled egg and fruit salad. He ate slowly, taking sips of water each time. “Do we have homework for tomorrow? I would like to get caught up on where we are with the school project.”

“Mr. Blackbourne has pulled us out of classes at this time,” Kota said. “We’ve skipped the pretense after the upset with the old principal and some of the administrators. We’re talking to teachers and looking over school records.”

“I see,” Mr. Buble said. “Has there been progress on discovering the whereabouts of the money that was allegedly embezzled?”

“He’s working on it. We all are available as needed.”

Mr. Buble nodded his head. “Does that mean part of your team is no longer really needed at the school? But are you still attending?”

“We felt Sang should continue attending, for the sake of her family situation, and at first any alerts about her not in attendance would have harmed her at home. However for now, mostly she’s helping Mr. Blackbourne in the office. We’re waiting until the divorce her parents are going through is finalized. I think if she misses a few days here and there it is fine, but she should make appearances.” He paused shortly and considered what he was saying. “Victor might be needed, now that we have access, to try to break down the school computer data and see if there’s some traces of what’s been going on there. The rest of us make an appearance in the hallways. Dr. Green teaches a class, so he should still go.”

Mr. Buble finished his fruit and eggs and put his fork neatly on his plate. With the napkin, he patted his lips, folded it, and placed it squarely on top. “Is it a requirement everyone stay at the school now that some key administrators have been removed? Are we just at the school to satisfy modest curiosity?”

Kota again grew quiet. I hadn’t realized with the changeup at school that was part of what they’d been doing from the start. They had been trying to get into the position they were right now. The original plan had been to find money that had been filtered from the school to the personal pockets of some people, particularly the principal and vice and anyone else who might have participated. With the principal and other key officials having been removed, it gave Mr. Blackbourne and the whole team all the access they needed to figure out where money had disappeared to.

They’d spent a couple of weeks just trying to locate the files that would let them know what happened, and they were very close. But that didn’t mean all of us needed to be around the school.

“…I…” Kota started to say, but he paused, seeming uncertain. “I think we continue with our search for all the information needed to get the money back into the school, until the job is completed, of course. We do have a situation that popped up while we were there… Volto… We need to find out who he is, his interest in us, and if he’s told anyone about the Academy… and how much he knows about it. Is it just us he’s after and will he follow us or will he stick around the school?”

“He always pops up,” Nathan said. “Victor’s car in the lake… that was him.”

“I remember the incident from the report,” Mr. Buble said. “He used your interest in capturing him to lure you away from what was going on at the school that night. It sounds like at the time he didn’t want you there and knew you would chase him.”

“He left me to die in the lake,” Nathan said.

“Did he know for sure you were in the lake?”

Nathan pressed his lips together and shook his head.

“I don’t like to work with assumptions,” Mr. Buble said. “What we know for sure is that this Volto led you away. We don’t know why it was important to do so.”

“We’re working on leads for Volto,” Kota said. “It’ll take time but we have an investigator, an Academy contractor, who is in charge of asking the principal and other key participants about that night. They might reveal who Volto is.”

I shared a glance with Nathan. He and I had found a mask with a voice modulator in Kota’s mother’s car.

We hadn’t figured out how it got to be there.

We wondered a few things: Volto’s intimate knowledge of the Academy, for one. Another was his ability to get on Kota’s property without the dog barking that a stranger was around. It would hint that the dog knew Volto.

Not to mention when Nathan was left alone after crashing Victor’s car into the lake, it was Erica who had appeared after. We’d talked about it a bit. It wasn’t a route she’d normally take. It didn’t make sense for her to be out there at that time.

We hadn’t mentioned it to Kota yet. How could we? What if it was…

“Sang Sorenson?” Mr. Buble’s voice stunned me out of my thoughts.

He said nothing further, and I fumbled for what to respond with. “Yes?” It was like when a teacher asked you a question but you hadn’t been paying attention and they remained quiet. Awkward.

He waited, like he was expecting me to say something but when I didn’t answer, he continued, “I understand you’re assisting Mr. Blackbourne as he’s taking over temporarily.”

I nodded. “Yes.”

“However, in the afternoons, what happens? The evenings?”

“We’ve been…” I paused. “Sometimes…”

“She works part-time at the diner when she has time,” Kota said. “And when not doing that, we’ve been sorting supplies and catching up on some household to-do lists.” There was a short pause as he looked from Mr. Buble to me. “I don’t mean to speak for you, but we’ve had a strange night. We were all up rather late. Could I get you some coffee? Would that help?”

Him speaking for me relieved the pressure to not say too much. I was never particularly good at hiding what I was actually thinking. Kota probably did assume I was tired. What could I say? It wouldn’t take long for him to figure out I was troubled over the idea his mother…

Mr. Buble made a motion with his hand, which dragged my attention back to him. “Maybe I could recommend some exercise instead, or another solution? Caffeine can be effective, but for younger, still growing minds, it could be harmful. If it’s at all possible, you might want to avoid it for another few years.” He said this so calmly, like giving us the time to consider if we really wanted the coffee or not.

“Oh,” I said.

“We don’t have it that much,” Kota said. He went to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of Starbuck’s mocha Frappuccino, ones they’d kept in the fridge for me. While the flavor was fine, I’d learned it wasn’t the same as getting it from the actual coffee shop and I only drank it on occasion.

Mr. Buble seemed puzzled. “If that’s the case”—he looked at me expectantly—“can I put you off for a little while? It works best when you’ve reached a point of not being able to keep yourself awake, not when your body is waking up. See how you feel after you’ve gotten to stretch your body a bit or go outside in the sun. If you’re still tired, then drink some.” He stood up, presenting a hand to Kota to take the bottle.

Kota checked in with me. I nodded. He passed it to him.

Mr. Buble took the bottle and put it back into the fridge. “Let’s use chemistry to our advantage.”

The others looked at me and then shrugged. It was strange how he did it. It wasn’t a lecture. He wasn’t telling us off. He wasn’t saying he was the adult and we should listen to him. It wasn’t what I was expecting from an adult. It was very… Academy of him.

Maybe the others were used to this from Academy people, but this was new to me. To be shown and guided as to what to do and offering wisdom and assistance, not just telling someone what to do.

“As it is,” Mr. Buble said, turning around, “it’ll probably be better, in the long run, to keep to simple tasks today and get to bed early tonight,” he said. He held up a hand, starting with a pointer finger out. “From what I see, I think we should start with a few basics.” He waggled the finger a bit, indicating the number. “One, steady shelter. While I understand coming here, I feel there are too many issues at current to remain in this house. Yes, the Academy keeps track of Mr. Griffin and his whereabouts, but this is his home and he’ll be back. The simpler solution is actually not to stay here. For the sake of everyone on your team, I feel it best we start the process of getting ready to move everyone out.”

Everyone? Including Nathan? The other guys looked at each other, blinking. We talked about it before, but no one really knew where to start. Where would we go?

“Two,” he said, holding up a second finger. “Volto is a problem and top priority. I must insist on full security at all times. No one goes anywhere alone.”

“We’ve had that protocol,” Kota said. “He’s gotten help when we stick together.”

“Last time he got Sang… and I was right next to her,” Nathan muttered, crossing his arms and slouching in his chair.

“I understand,” Mr. Buble said, lowering his counting fingers. “However, stalkers, as I feel this is partially the case, are reactionary. When there’s heightened activity, they have an advantage. We’ll need to do the opposite. Everyone should be at home or places that are predictable.” He motioned to everyone. “Boring either draws them out to us or they lose interest and disappear. Either way, we want this to end safely.”

“I feel like boring is what he wanted,” Kota said. “Everything has been so we wouldn’t get in the way of something he wanted. A distraction.”

“As it’s likely school-related, we need to focus on getting away from it as soon as possible. We were reluctant to allow anyone to pick up this job as it was because it technically crosses the line of what the law should handle,” Mr. Buble said. “This was a direct request to handle it quietly to recover lost funds without getting caught up in lawyers and investigations, in a school that already has suffered from years of neglect. It has not been handled quietly, and we now have had major threats to our personal security and too much interest drawn onto the Academy itself. If it wouldn’t draw even more attention, it should be that everyone abandons the job completely.”

“If the money gets found before the police get involved, we still have a chance to do what we set out to do,” Kota said.

“And you’ll earn those favors you’ve worked so hard for,” Mr. Buble said. “So let’s prevent spending any more favors in the meantime. Let’s find a new place to live, and let’s pick up routines that would have most people sleepy to watch day after day. That’s the current solution to our two main problems.” He crossed the dining area back to the table and picked up his own plate. He reached over to pick mine up, which had been half-eaten by me. “Are you finished? Shall we clean up?”

I was finished, so I stood and picked up cups.

Still, I couldn’t get what he said out of my mind. Was the team on the verge of losing the job they had spent months on?

Because of me?

It felt like they’d risked a lot to keep me safe.

“If they’re moving out, we’ll still need to figure out camping out here until it’s settled,” Kota said. “I know it’s Sunday, but some of the shops are open. We should evaluate what we have and what we’ll need.”

“That’s a good place to start,” Mr. Buble said. “It’d be wise to alert the rest of the team of what is happening. Is there a meeting scheduled soon?”

Kota shook his head. “I’ve been holding off for Dr. Green and Mr. Blackbourne to be available.”

“If we’re too busy and scattered, you’ll have to make primary decisions with who is available and filter the information through to them. We may not be able to wait.” He went on to begin washing the dishes, scraping the leftover bits into the disposal.

The rest of us helped to tidy up the kitchen, but it was clear from everyone else’s expressions that we were all suddenly overwhelmed.

A new place to live.

This manager.

The job that they were on the verge of losing completely.

He was right though. We did need to live somewhere else. The way we lived now only enticed Volto to us. We were also at risk all the time just living here. Why didn’t we see it before? Were we really too close to the situation to see it?

How much more were we not able to see, that we could fix? He made it sound so simple.