Stella

I should be paying attention.

There’s a student council mixer in the auditorium, full of fake smiles and lukewarm sparkling juice, but I can’t focus. My fingers itch for my sketchpad, which I stupidly left in my locker. And I can still feel Viktor’s warning echoing in my head.

You’re being watched.

The threat. The photo. The message.

I can’t unsee it.

Vivian's voice cuts into my haze. “You good?”

I blink. She’s at my side, holding two plastic cups like ...