Ovenshine

29.

Indy lays her head down on her pillow, but for several hours she doesn't sleep. Her mind refuses to settle, swimming instead with a million images: Lydia's award sitting like a relic in the glass case at Meskill Academy, the grainy pictures of the stranger in Jude's phone. Somewhere, there is a thread tying them all together, just within reach, but still so far away.

Between when her eyes close and when she wakes again it must have been at least two hours, but it feels like only minutes have passed. Sometime between those pseudo-minutes Sylvia's already gotten up and left, her blankets tossed back and left there, a Sylvia-shaped dent in the pillow.

Indy groans and grabs for her phone, which she placed on the windowsill just above her bed. Her tired eyes squint at the screen. Messages from Percy, Jude, and to her surprise, an email from Professor Clover.

Good morning, Indy. If you get the chance, could you come see me in my office this morning? I want to talk to you about your project.

A strange feeling akin to nausea settles in the base of Indy's stomach. She's reading the words and picturing the professor's usually kind face, and the way she could've sworn she saw his eyes darken last lecture: But so is knowing when you've bit off more than you can chew.

She convinced herself she imagined it; she wouldn't know how to proceed otherwise. Nevertheless, Indy recognizes the feeling settling in her gut. It's unease. The feeling that she is waltzing head-on into a trap.

"Here's your peach lemon drizzle thing," Percy says, carefully offering a steaming styrofoam cup to Gatz, who's sprawled on their stomach beneath a tree in the Commons.

Gatz takes a long sip, then immediately returns to scratching away at their sketchbook, the pads of their fingers already decorated with smudges of graphite. "It's just a peach tea, Percy. And thank you. It's delicious."

"I don't know what the fuck it is. All I know is I watched them make it and it looked aggressively pink," Percy says. He drops to a crouch, tilting his head slightly, trying to decipher if it's a slinky or an oddly-shaped staircase that Gatz is drawing, but figuring it's better not to ask. "So, how exactly does the peachy drink help with your creative process again?"

"Keeps me happy and caffeinated."

Percy frowns. "Right. And me paying for it?"

"Keeps me happy."

Gently, Percy thwacks Gatz on the back of their neck. Gatz yelps and briefly swats at Percy's hand, but otherwise seems unbothered. Percy joins them in the grass then, knees bent, fingers dug into the frost. "How many pieces left until the showcase?"

"Too many," Gatz says, "but Clover's depending on me. I can't...I don't want to let him down."

Percy frowns, unsure if he's ever seen such a deep furrow between Gatz's brows before. He's about to respond, but then Gatz looks up, narrowing their eyes at something in the distance before they call, "Indy!"

"Indy?"

Percy looks up just as her eyes find his, brightening with recognition before she shifts directions to head their way. Though the morning is certainly chilly, looking at Indy you'd guess it's subzero; her face is buried in her scarf, her hands tugging her coat closer around her.

"You guys are insane," she says once she reaches them. "No one lounges around the Commons in this weather."

"Soon enough it will be too abysmal to even be near a window," Gatz replies. "I'm going to sit in the sun until the very last of it is gone."