Darling Belle

Three

PRESENT

Headmaster Duval seemed to forget about Maisie's very futile existence that only served to be a scapegoat in his eyes. When Nico departed the office, so had she. No one was there to restrain her from walking right out the door. And she'd expected to be tracked down immediately afterward, but the night passed without much of a peep. Other than Cherie's crude remarks and snoring, she hadn't gotten enough sleep, but Maisie thought it could be much worse.

meet me by silver lake at 1 pm. i have information.
— r

Maisie blinked down at the slip of paper that'd been stuffed into her pocket. She hadn't even felt it until she got back to her dorm after her third uneventful period, she had only heard the slight crunch once she was out of range of the bustling halls and gossip. It was peculiar, she didn't think Raegan had even gotten close enough to secretly place the note. And how the hell did the girl even know what Duval had assigned her to do? Or was this about a separate matter?

Her eyes drifted to the clock on the mantel. 12:50, approximately ten minutes remaining. But the walk to Silver Lake would take her seven with traffic. And four without. Maisie made up her mind quickly, she was desperate for information regarding the crime.

On her way there, she thought about Nico.

SEVEN YEARS AGO

        During spring break, Maisie had snuck into Noah's house. He had told her if she ever needed to run away, to run to him. And for the most part, fleeing into his backyard when emotions arose helped quite a bit. Scaling up his sycamore tree, knocking on his window, and seeing his soft smile was worth it every-time. But on this particular morning, when she pounded her little fist against the glass, she received no answer. It was eerily quiet.

She hooked a thick branch with the back of her leg, scooting forward and making her hands into binoculars. She squinted as she peered in. There he was, legs crossed in the corner of his room with his head buried deep into a dark leather book. From what she could tell, he was wearing earbuds; most likely listening to some tunes.

Little Maisie knocked one more time. Waiting no more than a few seconds before trying to open the window from the outside. And sure enough, it slid open smoothly.

Drawing his attention. He snapped his head up. Glaring through ebony lashes.

"Hi, Noah," she said, oblivious.

Noah set his book down to the side. Pulling off his headphones. He didn't say anything. He just stared. And Maisie took that as a sign to vent, it was like he knew something was up.

And for the next ten minutes, she poured her heart out while he listened, quietly and expressionless, she even burst into tears by the seven-minute mark when she started talking about how cruel her parents were sometimes. How her mother wouldn't kiss her goodnight anymore. How her father would put out his cigarettes on her legs and hold them there till she cried. In the middle of her speech of despair, the real Noah walked in.

He'd rushed to her side, tossing the other Noah an intense stare as he held her hand and asked if Nico had said something mean. She glanced between them, back and forth, north and south, over and over again. Feeling the urge to cry even more at the notion that she'd just humiliated herself in front of a total stranger.

When Noah realized what actually happened between them, he turned to Nico and prompted, "swear you won't tell."

Nico looked behind Noah to Maisie and without tearing his eyes away he promised, "Swear."