An Astronomer's Guide to Falling Angels

Chapter 22

The sun was merciless, beating down on the asphalt as students gathered at the front of the school, buzzing with excitement. The anticipation for the camping trip hung in the air, blending with the heat of summer. Voices mingled in an animated chorus, some students joking, others trading stories about what they planned to do once they got to the campsite. The yellow bus was parked to the side, doors open, but nobody seemed eager to board just yet. It was too hot, and besides, the bus wasn't leaving for another half hour.

Arty sat lazily on a bench next to Oda, who was enthusiastically recounting some obscure urban legend she'd found online about their campsite.

"So apparently, there's this whole story about the 'Watcher in the Woods' who's supposed to—"

"Mhm," Arty replied, not really paying attention, her gaze scanning the parking lot. She was waiting, eyes half-lidded against the sunlight, for Astor to show up. The heat was already making her impatient. Her black singlet clung to her skin, and she could feel the sweat forming under the fabric, but she didn't care. The singlet revealed the muscles in her arms, which flexed as she fidgeted. She was absentmindedly rolling her shoulders, half-focused on Oda's rambling and half on keeping an eye out for Astor.

Oda, sensing her friend's distraction, smirked. "You know, if you're just going to ignore me, at least let me kick your ass in something."

Arty raised an eyebrow, still only half paying attention. "You? Kick my ass? Doubt it."

Oda's grin widened. "Arm wrestle me."

Arty turned to face her now, fully drawn into the challenge. "You're serious?"

"Dead serious." Oda put her elbow on the bench, hand outstretched, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Or are you scared?"

Arty chuckled, shaking her head. "Alright, fine. You're on."

They locked hands, both of them settling into position. A small crowd of students who had been milling about started to gather, intrigued by the impromptu match. The word spread quickly, and soon enough, students were hovering around them, placing bets, their chatter growing louder with excitement.

The match started, both of them immediately tensing as they tried to overpower the other. Neither Arty nor Oda budged. Arty's arm flexed, the defined muscles in her bicep bulging as she pushed, but Oda was strong, too, her hand holding steady as the contest dragged on.

The students around them cheered, some shouting encouragement, others calling out bets.

"Come on, Arty!" one yelled.

"No way, Oda's got this!" another shouted.

But as time went on, neither of them seemed to be winning, and the crowd's excitement only grew. It had become a battle of endurance now, with neither Arty nor Oda willing to give in. Arty's concentration faltered, her mind still wandering back to the thought of seeing Astor. The thought of him showing up was enough to make her smile, even while locked in the middle of a match.

And then, as if on cue, she caught sight of a familiar black car pulling up to the curb. Astor's family car. Her heart gave a little leap.

Arty's gaze flickered over, and there he was—Astor stepping out, dressed in a simple white tee and cargo shorts, looking every bit as out of place as she'd imagined he would on a camping trip. His two packed bags looked oversized for his slight frame, but the smile on his face made him seem lighter, brighter.

The second she saw him, her concentration snapped. With a sudden burst of energy, Arty slammed Oda's hand down against the bench with a loud thud.

"Yowch!" Oda yelped, shaking her hand out in exaggerated pain. "What the hell, Arty?!"