Red Morgan isn't exactly a nice person neither is she bad, she's a little bit of this and a little bit of that, one thing is for sure she speaks her mind to whoever deserves it regardless of who you are and whatever you can/will do to her and this troubles her parents a lot.

Plumping down on the chair in the principals office, Red wondered what she might have done this time around.

“Red Morgan, report to the principal’s office, NOW!”

The angry voice boomed through the hallway speakers.

What did I do this time?

I know I’ve been a good girl lately. Well… except for a little hiccup this morning, but that shouldn’t be a problem.

Nope.

The hiccup was definitely the problem.

In my defense, they asked what I could do to them, and I showed them.

I know you’re confused, so let me introduce myself.

My name is Red Morgan. I’m a high school senior, and this is our last semester. I’ve been trying very hard to be a good girl, but those bullies just won’t let me.

The principal doesn’t believe me when I tell him they asked for it. My parents don’t care what I do as long as it doesn’t affect their reputation.

And me?

I have nothing but time, cash, and freedom.

I wasn’t always like this.

I changed after the death of my best friend.

Lia had always been my rock—the only person I had in a world where even my parents barely noticed me. She was my ride-or-die, the only sunshine in my dark, gloomy world.

We had been so excited about college and senior prom that we made plans and bought our dresses long before we even became seniors.

I met Lia in middle school.

She was an orphan living in a rundown orphanage that was about to close. So, I brought her home.

My parents didn’t care. In fact, they weren’t against it.

It added to their good reputation, after all.

And Lia kept me in check.

Money had never been a problem. My parents spent their entire lives making it, so there was always more than enough.

We had been inseparable ever since.

We celebrated birthdays together, went on vacations, went shopping, and even picked out matching outfits.

There was a rumor at school that we were dating.

We didn’t care.

We were completely wrapped up in each other’s world, and we appreciated everything the other had to offer.

But there was always this feeling at the back of my mind that Lia was hiding something big from me.

I never let it get to me.

Everything had felt perfect.

Until that night.

The driver was drunk and completely out of control. The car almost hit me, but Lia pushed me out of the way.

And she was crushed.

She died on the spot.

I was in a coma for a week.

If it weren’t for her, we would both have been dead.

She died for me.

So I had to keep living.

People say grief ends when the funeral does.

They’re lying.

It had been four months since Lia passed, and I still set two cups on the counter some mornings before remembering that she was gone.

She had given me a silver locket before the accident.

It was old and oval-shaped, with a tiny crest engraved on the front—a crown split by a lightning bolt.

I had never seen anything like it.

I remembered asking her to take it back that night, but she had only laughed and told me to hold on to it a little longer.

I remembered holding it that morning, the locket somehow feeling heavier than it had before.

She had told me she'd found it four years after she was abandoned at the orphanage.

I held it close to my chest as I wiped away the tears that had fallen.

It felt familiar.

Like I had seen the crest somewhere before.

I just couldn't remember where.

I had searched for the engraving online countless times, but I never found anything.

“Why did you hit your classmates?”

The principal’s voice dragged me back to reality.

“I already told you.”

I shrugged.

“They asked for it. How was I supposed to say no to such a request?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could say anything, his secretary entered and whispered something into his ear.

His expression changed immediately.

Whatever she had said had wiped the anger from his face.

“Go,” he said, dismissing us.

Just like that.

It was already lunchtime, so I headed outside and took a seat on the bleachers behind the gym.

I was trying to avoid the pitiful stares I had been getting ever since Lia died.

I hated them.

I never knew the presence of one man could shift an entire atmosphere until that random Tuesday in October.

I was turning my lunch around with my fork, as usual, my appetite nowhere to be found. My sketchbook rested on my knee, while Lia’s locket sat beneath my sweater, warm against my collarbone.

Then a black car rolled into the faculty parking lot.

Writer’s POV

It was long, sleek, and completely out of place in a parking lot filled mostly with dented Hondas.

Two men in dark coats stepped out first, taking their positions on either side of the rear door like punctuation marks.

Then a third man emerged.

He looked to be about twenty-six.

Tall.

He wore a charcoal suit that fit him like it had been poured onto his body. His dark hair was neatly styled, his jaw hard and sharply defined.

But it was his eyes that caught attention.

Gray.

Cold.

The color of rain on steel.

The kind of gray you couldn't look at for long without feeling as though you were being measured.

He didn't look at the school.

Instead, he stared at the ground, then down at his own hands, like a man visiting a grave.

He reeked of danger.

Then, for no reason Red could name, he looked up.

And found her across the entire football field.

She should have looked away.

Instead, she froze, her pencil suspended above the page as the stranger stared at her.

Not like a man looking at a stranger.

Like a man staring at something he thought he'd lost.

His hand drifted almost unconsciously toward his chest pocket.

One of the men in dark coats leaned toward him and whispered something.

The stranger's jaw tightened.

Then he turned, got back into the car, and the black sedan slid out of the parking lot as silently as it had arrived.

Red's heart pounded against her ribs.

“You saw that too, right?”

She flinched.

Marcus Bell, her lab partner and the closest thing she had left to a friend, had climbed onto the bleachers beside her, a bag of chips in his hand.

This goofy-looking guy also had a huge crush on Lia.

The thought of her late friend sent a sharp pain through Red’s chest.

“Saw what?”

“The Alexandro car.”

Marcus lowered his voice, as though the bleachers might be bugged.

“My dad drives a tow truck. He says that name is on half the police scanners in the county.”

He glanced toward the parking lot.

“Alexandro. They own the docks, the casinos on the east side, half the restaurants downtown.”

His eyes returned to Red.

“Why would one of them be at Halloran?”

Red looked down at her sketchbook.

Without realizing it, she had drawn a pair of eyes in pencil.

Gray.

Cold.

Searching.

“No idea,” she lied.

Then she closed the book.