Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The ropes cut into Lucy Chen’s wrists, the coarse fibers biting deeper every time she moved. Sweat trickled down her temple, her pulse thudding in her ears louder than the distant city noise bleeding through the warehouse walls.

A man paced in front of her—dark hoodie, ballcap low, gun in hand like it was just part of his anatomy. His voice was tense, barely restrained panic as he barked into his phone. "I told you—we had it handled. He screwed up. No, you don’t get it. We’re exposed now."

Lucy glanced sideways. Tim sat a few inches away, ankles bound, hands tied behind his back, his usual smirk replaced with something quieter, more serious. A cut traced his cheekbone, red and alarming. His shirt was ripped. And still, his eyes found hers.

“This wasn’t part of the plan,” Lucy muttered, breathless but steady.

Tim chuckled softly, shifting just enough to let his hand brush against hers—light, fleeting, but intentional. “I wasn’t part of the plan either,” he said quietly. “But I’d still choose this. . . Choose you.”

The man turned toward them, gun swinging loosely in his grip. "Shut up!" he snapped, finger twitching near the trigger.
Lucy held her breath. Tim didn’t flinch.

. . .

. . .Two Months Earlier. . .

The precinct was alive with movement—keyboards clicking, phones ringing, coffee cups clinking. But Lucy barely noticed any of it. She stood at the edge of her desk, arms loosely crossed, eyes locked on the glass-walled office that loomed like a fishbowl in the center of the room.

Lieutenant Grey sat inside, back straight, mouth pressed into a hard line, the same way it always was when things were about to get complicated. Sunlight filtered through the blinds behind him, throwing slatted shadows across the desk and the file laid open on it.

Across from him stood a woman Lucy didn’t recognize. She was in her mid-forties, wearing a tailored navy blazer and sensible shoes, her short curly hair pinned back from her face. She looked like someone who had no time for small talk—and even less for mistakes. She gestured animatedly as she spoke, her words muted by the thick glass, but her expression sharp and urgent.

Harper sat off to the side, arms folded, nodding as if this was all part of some plan Lucy hadn’t been told about.

Lucy's curiosity was piqued. Who was this woman, and what was she discussing with Grey?

"Who's Grey talking to?" Lucy asked Tim, not tearing her eyes away from the scene.

Tim shrugged, his eyes fixed on the paperwork he was filling out. "Not my circus, not my monkeys."

Lucy rolled her eyes at Tim. "You're impossible."

As she continued to watch, Grey's eyes met hers through the glass. He beckoned her into his office.

Lucy straightened, her eyes meeting Tim's. "I guess I better go buy some bananas," she said with a smirk. "Because they just became my monkeys."

She stepped into Grey's office, where the woman turned to face her.

"Chen, this is Eleanor Dicaprio, principal of Los Angeles Senior High School," Grey said, his voice low and smooth.

Lucy shook Eleanor's hand, her grip firm. "Lucy Chen."

Eleanor's eyes locked onto Lucy's, her voice urgent. "I'm afraid we have a serious problem on our hands, Officer Chen. A new street drug has found its way into our school. It's called 'Eclipse.' We're finding it in locker searches, in the bathrooms...just last week, we had two students overdose on it."

Lucy's expression turned grim, her eyes narrowing. "Connor Yates and Taliah Moore. My roommate was the responding officer on that case. Eclipse is some bad stuff."

Nyla's expression was somber. "Our analysis shows it's similar to PCP, but with a more potent formula."

Eleanor's face was pale, her eyes haunted. "I'm afraid it's going to take more than just our school's resources to get it under control."

Lucy nodded intently. “Of course, anything.”

“We’d like to infiltrate this thing head on. . . with an officer on the inside.” Harper said, “and I do not have the patience to pretend to teach our wonderful youth of today.”

Lucy stifled a giggle. Nyla was a great teacher when it came to rookies. The exact mixture of knowledgeable and tough. Hormonal high school students however? She was inclined to agree with Harper. “You. . . you want me?”

Harper nodded. "We have a spot open in the science department, courtesy of Miss Dicaprio. And your...creative experience with Nova suggests you can handle the science curriculum.We’ll also provide you with a step by step lesson plan each week."

Lucy swallowed down a smile. She was almost absolutely giddy at the thought of being undercover again. There was just something about it that made her feel, . . . alive. “I’m in.”

Eleanor nodded, a determined look on her face. "I appreciate your willingness to help, Officer Chen. Let's work together to get Eclipse out of our school."

Grey stood up, signaling the end of the meeting. "I'll brief you on the details, Chen. We'll get you set up as a science teacher and-"

"I'll take care of the paperwork, Lieutenant," Nyla said, already heading for the door. "Let's move quickly on this."

As the group began to disperse, Harper turned to Lucy with a dry smile. "Try not to blow your cover, Chen."

Lucy rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "I'll do my best."

With that, the meeting broke up, and Lucy found herself being swept up in the preparations for her undercover mission.

As Lucy exited the office, Tim was waiting with an amused grin. "Well, should we get you a top hat and a big top for your circus?"

Lucy's gaze darted around the station, reminding herself of the secrecy she'd just sworn to. She grasped Tim's hand, pulling him into a nearby closet.

"Chen, what the...?" Tim protested, his eyes adjusting to the dim light.

"I just got a new undercover assignment," Lucy said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Tim's expression turned serious, his eyes clouding with concern. He had a love-hate relationship with Lucy's undercover work, especially when he wasn't by her side. He sighed, reminding himself that she wasn't his to worry about anymore.

"Oh? Where?" he asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

Lucy's eyes sparkled with excitement. "It's at the high school."

Tim raised an eyebrow. "High school? Bleh."

Lucy rolled her eyes. "What's wrong with high school?"

Tim snorted. "Do you not remember high school?"

Lucy smirked. "I'm not going as a student, I'll be UC as a science teacher."

Tim's expression turned skeptical. "A bunch of subordinates with raging hormones and attitude problems? You couldn't pay me to be a teacher."

Lucy chuckled. "Oh please, Mr. All-American, quarterback, homecoming king. You didn't exactly hate high school, did you? Genny said you were practically never home."

Tim’s eyes flickered with something sharp—hurt, disappointment—and Lucy instantly regretted saying it.

“Exactly,” he said quietly, his voice tight. “I volunteered so I wouldn't have to be home.”

Guilt rose in Lucy’s throat like a wave, thick and suffocating. “Tim, I didn’t mean—”

He shook his head gently, cutting her off. “It’s fine,” he said, and though his voice was calm, there was a crack beneath it. “Really. When do you leave?”

“Monday,” she said, barely above a whisper.

His gaze dropped, like he was just now registering how close they were standing—how the air between them had shifted. “I’m… gonna miss having you around.” He swallowed hard. He was trying to be more intentional with his feelings, trying so hard to express and communicate.

Lucy’s heart stuttered. Her palms were damp, pulse tapping at her collarbone. Her eyes dropped—briefly, helplessly—to his lips.

“Um… it’s open-ended,” Lucy mumbled, avoiding his gaze. “Until we find the dealer. Could be a week… could be longer. It’s… kinda up in the air.”

Tim’s eyes lingered on her, something unreadable behind them. The air between them crackled—too quiet, too close.

Lucy cleared her throat and reached for the doorknob. “We should—uh—get out of here before someone thinks we’re hiding.”

Tim stepped back to give her room, and together, they pushed the door open and stepped into the hallway.

The click-clack of heels echoed before they even had time to adjust to the fluorescent lighting.

Angela Lopez rounded the corner, hands on hips, eyebrow arched so high it could’ve cut glass. “Are you two planning to make a move or just keep exchanging soulful glances until someone dies of sexual tension?”

Lucy nearly tripped over her own feet. “It’s not—it’s not like that!”

Nyla appeared behind her, coffee in hand, deadpan as ever. “My money was on three more days before one of you cracked. Guess I lose.”

Lucy stepped back like she’d been burned, cheeks flushed. “We were just—”

“Sure,” Angela said, already turning away. “Briefing room. Five minutes. Try to bring your brains, not just your hormones.”

As they disappeared down the hallway, Tim let out a breath, shaking his head.

“I… uh… better go,” Lucy muttered, motioning vaguely after Nyla and Angela.

Tim nodded. “Yeah. Of course.”

She turned and followed them, her footsteps quick, her heart still racing—for all the wrong reasons.

. . .
“Okay, tell me your cover one more time,” Nyla said, her eyes sharp but kind as she adjusted the rearview mirror.

Lucy shook her head and exhaled, nerves buzzing like static under her skin. They were parked just across the street from the school, the early morning sun casting long shadows across the brick facade. A sea of teenagers flowed through the front entrance—backpacks slung over one shoulder, coffee cups in hand, the unmistakable chaos of the beginning of the school day.

“My name is Nora Pearson,” Lucy recited, hands twisting in her lap. “I’m a California transplant from Nebraska, where I grew up and met my high school sweetheart. We were married for a few years, but it didn’t work out, and we went our separate ways. After the divorce, I decided to leave the Midwest behind and start fresh out here. I’ve always loved science, always wanted to teach, and this is my fifth year teaching high school science.”

Nyla nodded approvingly. “Good. Clean. Believable. You sound like someone who buys wine at Trader Joe’s and watches true crime documentaries on weeknights.”

Lucy cracked a smile. “I do buy wine at Trader Joe’s and watch true crime documentaries on weeknights.”

Nyla gave her a knowing look. “Then you’re already halfway to being Nora Pearson.”

Lucy huffed a nervous laugh, then glanced down at her lap. “Didn’t Angela say she gave me a tragically basic backstory so I wouldn’t stand out?” She looked up at Nyla, mock-serious. “Am I basic?”

Nyla turned to face her fully, the corner of her mouth tugging into a smirk. “Only undercover.”

Lucy’s fingers curled around the handle of the van door. Her stomach flipped. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” she said, swallowing hard.

Nyla gave her a small, reassuring smile. “You’ve got this. Just be Nora Pearson. Nerdy, recently divorced, loves isotopes and stability.”

Lucy exhaled, nodded once, then reached for the door handle. “Here goes nothing.”

She stepped out of the van, adjusting the strap of her tote bag, shoulders squared like armor. As she crossed the street toward the school entrance, a group of teenagers rushed past her, the noise and energy filling the air. She blended in like she'd always belonged there.

Nyla watched from the driver's seat, her expression unreadable at first. But as Lucy disappeared into the school, she let out a slow breath and shook her head with the faintest of smiles. “Go get ’em, Basic.”

She pulled the van into gear and drove off, leaving Lucy to disappear fully into Nora Pearson’s world.

. . .
“So we've got our ionic bonds—where one atom loses an electron and another gains one, forming a strong electrostatic attraction,” Lucy explained, pacing in front of the whiteboard. “Now, let’s move on to covalent bonds...” She began drawing a Lewis structure when something outside the window caught her eye. A familiar face. Tim.

Dressed in civilian clothes, leaning casually against the doorframe like he belonged there. Lucy’s hand paused mid-marker.

“I need to speak with someone in the hallway,” she said, turning back to the class. “Please keep reading chapter fourteen—yes, actually read it.”

She slipped out into the hallway, shutting the door behind her. “What’s going on? Is something wrong?”

Tim shook his head, a little too quickly. “Just here touching base with the school resource officer.”

Lucy raised a brow. “Isn’t that usually handled over email?”

His face flushed. “Figured I’d come in person. You know… put a face to the name.”

Her gaze lingered on him, amused. “I see.”

“So… Ms. Pearson,” Tim said, eyes darting toward the classroom door. “How’s class going?”

“Was fine until you interrupted my lecture on covalent bonds.”

Before Tim could respond, the bell rang. The hallway flooded with students.

Tim stepped aside as the door opened and teenagers poured out. One student in baggy jeans slowed down, giving Lucy an appraising look before turning to Tim.
“Ms. Pearson, this your man?”

Lucy crossed her arms. “None of your business. Get to class.”

The kid smirked, completely ignoring her. “A fine mama like you? You could do way better. The things I’d—”

Tim stepped forward fast, backing the kid against the locker with barely contained fury.

“You couldn’t begin to handle a woman like Ms. Pearson. You’re not even qualified to breathe the same air as her, much less speak to her like that. Is that understood?!”
The student’s eyes widened. “Who even are you?!”

Lucy quickly scanned the watching crowd and cleared her throat. “This is Mr. Hayes—the new vice principal.”

Tim froze for a half-second, then straightened his jacket like he’d meant to do that all along. “That’s right. Vice Principal Hayes. So unless you want my first act as vice principal to be giving you a suspension, I’d keep it respectful.”

The student mumbled something under his breath and shuffled off.

Lucy turned to Tim, lips twitching with the effort not to smile.

Tim looked vaguely horrified. “Vice principal?”

Lucy shrugged. “It just came out.”

Tim sighed loudly. “I should have just sent an email.”

Chapter Text

Lucy tugged Tim into the nearest supply closet before the next wave of students flooded the hall. The door clicked shut behind them, muffling the buzz outside.

"Vice principal?" he muttered, leaning against the shelves stacked with printer paper and unlabeled binders. "Really?"

Lucy folded her arms, trying not to smile. “Well, you shoved a teenager into a locker, Tim. I had to think fast.”

“Yeah, and your fast thinking just signed me up for a job I didn’t apply for.”

“You did show up at a high school in the middle of the day without an excuse.”

“I was checking on you,” he admitted, then added quickly, “The case. I was checking on the case.”

Lucy rolled her eyes. “And now you’re Vice Principal Hayes. Congratulations. I don’t need you to check on me, I can handle myself.”

He groaned and raked a hand through his hair. “Angela is going to love this.”

She bit back a laugh. “Actually, she might. You’ll get access to more parts of the school than I can. You’ll be close to the staff, maybe even the students.”

“And close to you,” he added before he could stop himself.

The silence that followed was heavier than it should’ve been.

Lucy glanced away, her voice soft. “We’re supposed to be working.”

“I am working,” Tim said. “Working on not making this weirder than it already is.”

Their hands brushed as Lucy reached for the doorknob—just enough contact to jolt her, to remind her why she’d buried those feelings in the first place. And why they kept fighting their way to the surface.

“I guess we should make a plan,” she said, opening the door.

Tim stepped out into the hallway with a resigned sigh. “Yeah. Let’s go figure out how I’m suddenly your boss.”

. . .

Wade let out a wheezing laugh. “Let me get this straight. . . Tim was just minding his own business, checking in with the new school resource officer, got in an arguing match with a student, and your first thought was “vice principal material?”

Lucy groaned. “It was the first thought that came to my mind.”

Nyla shook her head. “You remember when I said I wasn’t a good fit for high school? Bradford is an even worse fit.”

“You gotta give him a little credit, he did do a good job working as Dim.” Angela said.

“Isn’t correspondence between the school resource officer and the LAPD usually done through E-mail?” Ms.Dicaprio asked brows knitted together in concern.

Angela smiled. “He was checking up on Lucy.”

“I was not!” Tim wheezed.

Lucy rolled her eyes. “Yes you were.”

“Lucy and Tim, sittin in a tree. . .” Angela teased.

Wade shot Angela a look. “Enough! Look, Chen is right. Maybe having Bradford on deck may not be a bad idea. Another set of eyes never hurts.”

Wade leaned back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his face. “Alright, if we’re doing this, let’s do it right. What’s your cover, Bradford?”

Tim blinked. “I… break up fights and hand out detention slips?”

Angela snorted. “Wow. Riveting. No wonder you were such a hit as Dim.”

Principal DiCaprio folded her arms, lips twitching like she was trying not to laugh. “He’ll need a proper résumé. Teaching experience, administrative background. Something to make it believable if anyone checks.”

“I can whip something up,” Nyla said, already pulling out her tablet. “Let’s say you transferred from a charter school in San Diego. You were assistant vice principal, you’re passionate about student safety and...uh, restorative justice?”

Tim raised an eyebrow. “Do I even know what restorative justice is?”

“No,” Lucy said. “But you’ll fake it with enough buzzwords and a firm handshake.”

Angela leaned over the table. “You’re also really into accountability circles, mentoring at-risk youth, and probably used to coach JV football.”
“Why is it always football?” Tim muttered.

“Because no one trusts a guy who coached tennis,” Wade said flatly.

“Okay, so let me get this straight,” Tim said, counting off on his fingers. “I’m Vice Principal Hayes, transferred from San Diego, into football, all about restorative justice, and I use accountability circles—whatever those are.”

“Also,” Angela added, “you’re recently divorced. Gives you an edge of vulnerability.”

Tim blinked. “Am I okay?”

Lucy bit back a smile. “You’re deeply emotionally complex.”

Tim sighed. I’m emotionally exhausted.”

DiCaprio finally cut in. “I’ll handle introducing you to the staff. We’ll say you’re here as a mid-year replacement for the previous VP who took an early retirement. Nobody liked him anyway.”

Wade nodded. “Alright. This is happening. But remember—this op is about results. Not your will-they-won’t-they drama.”

Lucy and Tim both opened their mouths at the same time, and Wade raised a hand. “Don’t. I don’t want to know.”

. . .
Tim leaned back against the desk, arms crossed, watching her erase equations from the whiteboard. His expression had shifted from smug to thoughtful, the way it always did when he was thinking more than he let on.

"You’re really good at this," he said suddenly.

Lucy paused mid-swipe. “At erasing the board?”

He smirked, but shook his head. “At teaching. The way those kids look at you. You’ve got them fooled into thinking you’re just another high school science nerd.”
She arched her brow. “Thanks? I think?”

Tim pushed off the desk and walked a slow circle around the room, taking it in like it was part of a crime scene. “You’ve got plants on the windowsill. A class pet. That weird periodic table poster with the dad jokes.”

“It’s called engagement,” Lucy said, tossing the eraser onto the tray. “Something you might want to consider if you’re planning on sticking around.”

“I’m not planning anything,” he said, meeting her eyes. “I’m here because you improvised. And because I didn’t want you doing this alone.”

The words sat there between them, heavier than the usual snark.

Lucy turned to organize a pile of lab manuals just to keep her hands busy. “I’m not alone,” she said, but her voice betrayed something softer.

He stepped closer. “You don’t have to be.”

For a second, it felt like they were on the edge of something—like if she turned around, if she said the right thing, the space between them might finally snap closed.
But then a knock came at the door.

They both jumped slightly, the tension scattering like startled birds.

A girl with dark hair and big eyes peeked in. “Ms. Pearson? Um… could you still look over my lab report?”

Lucy nodded, grateful for the excuse to move. “Yeah. .. yeah of course! Meet you in the library in ten?”

The girl nodded and disappeared as quickly as she had appeared.

Tim cleared his throat. “That’s Emiko right? —the one who’s been hanging around after class?”

“Emi. She goes by Emi. She’s smart,” Lucy said. “And something’s going on with her. I think she’s scared of something.”

Tim’s posture shifted—protective instincts activating. “Bullying? Maybe drugs?”

“Maybe. Or someone’s pressuring her. I’m working on getting her to open up.”

He nodded, all business again. “Then I’ll keep an eye on her, too.”

Lucy offered a faint smile. “Vice Principal Hayes, doing actual vice principal work? I’m impressed.”

“Don’t get used to it,” he said. “Tomorrow, I’m back to issuing citations for jaywalking in the halls.”

Tim lingered in the classroom after Lucy left, pretending to study the classroom safety poster while really trying to steady himself. One conversation with her and he felt like a teenager again—off-balance and saying things he hadn’t meant to say out loud.He ran a hand through his hair. You don’t have to be alone. What was that?

The bell rang outside, a late-period warning echoing down the halls. He sighed, shoved his hands into his pockets, and stepped out—just in time to nearly collide with a kid skateboarding inside the school.

“Hey! Hey!” Tim barked.

The kid froze, one foot already lifted to kick off again. “What? I’m going to PE!”

“Are you kidding me?” Tim pointed at the board. “Where is that even allowed? Confiscated.”

“What? You can’t just—!”

“I can. I’m vice principal, remember?” He held out a hand.

The student groaned and handed over the board with the world’s most dramatic eye roll. “This place sucks.”

Tim watched him shuffle off, then glanced down at the board. It had stickers all over it—anime characters, a faded “I love MILF’s” decal, and glitter. He turned it over in his hands, then sighed. “I agree, this place sucks.”
. . .
In the library, Lucy sat with Emi, who looked like she was trying to disappear into her oversized hoodie.

“This is good work,” Lucy said, tapping the neatly written lab report. “You’re ahead of most of the class.”

Emi shrugged. “Just trying not to fail.”

Lucy gave her a small smile. “Well, you’re doing a lot better than that.”

There was a long pause. Emi picked at the corner of her notebook, eyes darting toward the librarian’s desk.

Lucy leaned forward slightly. “Emi, if something’s going on—if someone’s pressuring you, or making you do something you don’t want to—you can tell me.”

The girl tensed. “Why would you say that?”

“Because I used to be a teenager. And because you’ve been nervous since I met you. You wait until the class is almost empty before you ask questions. You flinch when Coach Rivera walked by. You're always looking over your shoulder."

Emi blinked, startled. “I didn’t think anyone noticed.”

Lucy’s voice was gentle. “I notice.”

Before Emi could reply, a voice barked from the hallway. “Che—uh, Pearson. You in there?”

Lucy sighed.

Tim stuck his head in, holding up the confiscated skateboard like it was a trophy. “Caught a rebel in the wild.”

Emi stifled a smile. “You’re the new VP?”

“Unfortunately,” he muttered. “You must be Emi. Heard you’re scary smart.”

Emi looked between the two of them, something shifting in her eyes. She nodded once, then gathered her books. “Thanks, Ms. Pearson. I should go.”

Lucy gave her a soft smile. “Anytime.”

As soon as Emi disappeared down the hall, Lucy looked at Tim. “You really need to work on your subtlety.”

He shrugged. “I was being subtle. That was my subtle voice.”

“You barged in like we were planning a drug raid.”

“Well, we are trying to stop a drug ring.”

Lucy rolled her eyes but her smile lingered. “Let’s just keep our focus on getting close to the students. Not terrifying them.”

Tim nodded, his tone shifting. “She trusts you.”

“I’m getting there. And when she’s ready to talk…” Lucy looked toward the door Emi had disappeared through. “She’ll talk.”

Tim stepped closer, serious now. “And when she does, I’ll be ready too.”

Chapter Text

Tim stood at the front of the hallway like he was commanding a tactical checkpoint, arms folded, jaw tight. The bell had barely finished ringing, and already he was glaring at a sophomore trying to sneak a lollipop out of his hoodie sleeve.

“You. Gum. Trash can. Now,” he barked at an innocent sophmore. The kid jumped like he’d been caught with a felony and scrambled to comply.

From her classroom doorway, Lucy watched him with a mix of horror and reluctant amusement as Tim slipped easily back into Training Officer instead of Vice Principal. She sipped her coffee and counted silently: three... two...

“Pushups,” Tim barked out to another boy wearing a backward hat. “Let’s go. Ten. That hat should be off the moment you enter the building.”

“Are you serious?” the kid groaned.

“Does it look like I’m kidding?” Tim’s voice didn’t rise, but somehow, it got more terrifying.

Lucy walked over slowly, arms crossed. “Is this a high school or a boot camp?”

Tim turned to her, unfazed. He shrugged. “Same principle. Actions have consequences.”

“This isn’t the academy,” she muttered. “You can’t make kids do push-ups for dress code violations. They’re not boots, they’re KIDS.”

“They’re not complaining.”

A nearby student groaned from the ground as he did pushups. “I’m literally complaining right now.”

“I want discipline,” Tim replied. “This place is chaos. There’s no order. I’m just restoring balance.”

“Restoring the balance? Please.” She crouched down to the student who had been doing pushups. “Marco, go to your next class, you can’t have anymore tardies.”

The kid jumped off, walking as briskly as he could without provoking Tim.

“Maybe take it down a notch?” Lucy asked, looking up at Tim.

He shook his head. “There’s no such thing as taking it down a notch.”

Just then he saw two teenagers at the end of the hall lighting a cigarette. He rolled his eyes. “You can’t be serious.” He walked down the hall quickly, leaving his and Lucy’s conversation unfinished.

. . .

Emi walked into Lucy’s classroom, sitting her bag on the desk. “Is it just me or is the new Vice Principal kind of . . . intense?”

“He thinks he’s the captain of the LAPD or something.” another student offered in agreement.

Lucy sighed. She was going to seriously talk to Tim before he blew their cover. The bell rang, ending the conversation about Tim.

. . .

Tim entered the staff lounge, looking around. He spotted Lucy at a small table at the back of the room, munching on an apple, nose buried in a book. Her brunette locks were pulled back by a claw clip, a stray piece falling into her eye. She played this part well.

“Mrs.Pearson right? Mind if I join you?” Tim asked, pointing to the chair.

Lucy smiled. ‘Not at all and please, call me Nora.”

Tim pulled the chair opposite Lucy and sat down. He quietly unpacked his lunch, and Lucy snorted. He may be portraying someone else, but his lunch, a plain turkey sandwich on wheat ,cut with precision of course , a hard boiled egg, a small container of celery sticks, and a neatly packed bag of raw almonds, was 100 percent Tim Bradford.

Tim shot her a look. “What?”

Lucy grinned. “Is this lunch or a survival drill?”

He raised an eyebrow. “It’s called discipline.”

“It’s called joyless,” she said, biting into her apple.

Mr. Patel, the sophomore math teacher, stepped out of the lounge, leaving Tim and Lucy alone.

The second the door closed, Lucy turned to him, eyes sharp. “You do know you’re supposed to be playing a vice principal, not leading a boot camp, right?”

Tim popped an almond in his mouth, unfazed. “Vice principals enforce rules. That’s literally the job.”

“Sure,” Lucy said, leaning in, her voice low but pointed. “Enforce, not terrify. You’re not here to go Full Metal Jacket on a bunch of teenagers.”

He gave her a look. “Maybe that’s the problem. The world could use a few more rules, there would be less Starbucks Matcha Latte crybabies in the world.”

“God, you sound ancient,” she muttered as she rolled her eyes. “I get that this isn’t your element, but. . . ”

“Whoa, whoa, who said I’m out of my element?” he cut in. “I’m doing great.”

Lucy laughed. “You can totally tell you hated high school. You’re such a boot at this whole teaching thing.”

“I am not a boot,” he said, bristling.

“It’s okay,” she teased, biting into her apple. “Own it, boot.”

Tim scowled. “If anything, I am adapting. Professionally.”

Lucy chuckled. “All I’m saying is, if you keep acting like every hallway infraction is a felony, someone’s going to start asking questions. We need them to trust you, not file complaints.”

Tim frowned. “So what, I’m supposed to let chaos reign?”

“No,” Lucy said, softening. “Just… ease up a little. Smile. Pretend to enjoy being here. Blend in.”

He sighed and looked down at his celery. “Smiling’s not really my thing.”

Lucy smirked. “Then fake it. Besides, I like your smile.”

A smile slowly spread across Tim’s face and he quickly tried to hide it. He nodded. “I’ll try.”

“Good,” she said, picking up her book again. “And maybe tomorrow, bring a cookie or something. You’re making the rest of us look bad.”

Tim gave a small grunt that might’ve been a laugh. “A cookie, huh?”

Lucy laid her book down. “Just a thought? Shows you’re human.”

Tim leaned back in his chair, watching her for a moment. “You’ve really got this place figured out, don’t you?”

“Part of the job,” she murmured. “Kids talk. Teachers vent. You pay attention, it all adds up.”

He tapped the table lightly. “So, you get a good read on Emi? She seemed… twitchy.”

Lucy lowered her voice, even though they were the only ones in the room. “I’ve been keeping an eye on her. She’s smart, way too smart to be failing like her records say. And I agree, she’s twitchy, Jumpy. . . . Defensive. Something’s off.”

Tim nodded. “She flinched when I asked a basic question. Like she expected trouble.”

Lucy’s expression grew more serious. “I think she’s tied up in something. I don’t know what yet, but… she’s either hiding something or scared of someone.”

A pause settled between them.

Then Lucy added, voice barely above a whisper, “And she’s not the only one.”

Tim leaned in slightly. “You think this thing goes deeper than a couple of kids with weed?”

“I think we’re barely scratching the surface,” Lucy said, her voice low but firm. “And if we don’t get ahead of it, someone’s going to get hurt.”

Tim nodded slowly. “So… we stay close. Watch each other’s backs.”

Lucy looked at him, something flickering behind her eyes. “Yeah. We can’t afford to mess this up.”

He met her gaze. “I won’t let you down.”

Their hands were side by side on the table, close. . . too close. Tim’s fingers twitched, like he was about to reach for hers, but before he could, Lucy pulled her hand back, suddenly focused on the apple core in her palm.

She smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You’ve said that before.”

Tim flinched, just barely. “I mean it this time.”

She nodded, looking down at her apple core, twisting it between her fingers like it held some secret. “Good. Because I can’t do this alone.”

A beat passed. Then he said, quieter, “You don’t have to.”

For a moment, the air between them felt like it might crack. Too many unsaid things pressing up against the walls of what they were really talking about.

Lucy cleared her throat and stood, tossing the apple into the trash. “I’m going to check on Emi before class.”

Tim stood too, slower. “I’ll be close by.”

She gave him a long look. “I know.”

. . .

“Thanks for helping Miss P. I think I understand covalent bonds now.” Denny, a second time sophomore in Lucy’s third period, said as he walked out the classroom door.

Lucy smiled. “You’re catching on! Just do the homework, practice makes perfect!”

As Lucy stepped into the hall, she noticed Emi round the corner. She was hidden in her oversized sweatshirt, Her eyes darted back and forth, scanning the crowds of students that milled about in the hall. She glanced over her shoulder, her gaze lingering on a group of kids laughing and joking, before quickly moving on. Her shoulders were tense, her backpack straps digging into her shoulders as she clutched them tightly.

Just then Tim strolled down the hall. As he approached, Lucy leaned into him, whispering softly. “Watch Emi.”

Tim watched the girl, nervously checking over her shoulder, before unlocking her locker. She fidgeted, like she was impatient at how long the combination took to register. He nodded. “She’s a little nervous?”

Lucy grabbed a fistful of his shirt and yanked him into her classroom, a little harder than intended. He stumbled forward, colliding with her. “Wh . . . ”

Lucy pressed a finger to his lips. “Shhh. Come here.” She tugged Tim into the supply closet and shut the door behind them. The space was tight , too tight, and suddenly he was close, his breath warm against her skin.

She looked up, caught in his gaze for a beat too long.

Tim’s lips curved. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”

Lucy let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head to clear it. “Right. Sorry. Focus.”

Her voice dropped as she leaned in. “I’ve been watching Emi. She’s on edge, jumpy, nervous. Keeps checking the hallway like she’s expecting someone to show up. Someone she doesn’t want to see.”
She paused, meeting his eyes again. “Whatever she’s mixed up in… it’s serious.”

Tim nodded. “Like selling Eclipse?”

Her brows furrowed. “Do you think Emi would do that?”

He shrugged. “Everybody is a suspect.”

The announcement speaker crackled to life, interrupting them. “Mr. Hayes please report to the 300 hallway please.”

Tim sighed. “If this is another kid smoking in the bathroom, they’re going to scrub the walls with their toothbrush.”

Lucy smiled. “What happened to less drill sergeant, more friendly?”

Tim shot her a look.

Lucy chuckled. “Ok, I’ll shoot Harper a text when I leave tonight, letting her know that we think Emi is somehow tied to this.”

He nodded in agreement, opening the closet door, and was greeted by 15 curious teenagers.

“Um . . .we’ll get the custodian on that . . . right away. . . don’t let the students in there.” Tim fumbled as he quickly dipped out of the class.

. . .

“What seems to be the problem?” Tim said, as he approached the teacher in the hallway, a student with a concerned look on her face. “My locker was broken into.” the girl said, showing Tim the busted combination lock.

He examined the lock. “Was anything stolen?”

She shook her head. “Nothing is stolen. . nothing is even moved. It’s so weird. The only thing out of the ordinary is that I found this.” She handed Tim a slip of paper. “318”. Was printed in smooth black writing.

“Does 318 mean anything to you?”

The girl shook her head. “I have no clue what it means. OMG what if it’s some kind of gang affiliation thing? Should I be freaked out?”

Tim glanced at the note once more. “No. of course not. Tell you what, pack up your things and we’ll move you to a different locker. Does that make you feel better?”

The girl nodded.

Tim nodded. “Stop by my office when you’re done packing up and I’ll give you a pass and get you squared away.”

She nodded.

. . .

Lucy looked over the file, rubbing her temples slightly. “I don’t get it. Anna Ruiz is a straight A student, president of the student government, zero detentions, nothing to tie her to Eclipse… or to anything called ‘318.’”

Tim studied the slip of paper like it might suddenly give up its secrets. “Then why would someone break into her locker just to leave this behind?”

Lucy exhaled, frustration flickering across her face. “We’ve got to figure out what 318 means.”

Tim leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “Could be a classroom number?”

Lucy shook her head. “The school doesn't have Room 318.”

Tim shrugged. “March 18th?”

Lucy raised an eyebrow. “I already checked. Nothing notable happened on March 18th. No Incidents, no suspensions, no campus events. . .”

Tim chewed on his lip slightly. “Maybe a drop or a meetup? Dealers like predictable patterns?”

Lucy shook her head slowly. “No... this feels like a riddle. A message.”

Tim narrowed his eyes. “Alright. Someone broke into Anna’s locker, but she doesn’t have any obvious ties to Eclipse. So what if the break-in was just a delivery system to make sure we see it?”

Lucy’s eyes lit up. “Exactly. It wasn’t about her. . . it was a clue for us.”

Tim tapped the edge of the paper. “So someone broke into Anna’s locker just to drop this in? That doesn’t scream subtle. Why make it so obvious?”

Lucy looked down at the note again. “Exactly. It wasn’t subtle. Which means it wasn't just for her. It was meant to be found.”

She stood and began pacing. “Okay, think like them. You break into a locker. You leave a note with nothing but ‘318.’ Why? You want to say something without actually saying it.”

Tim watched her. “So it’s not a message for Anna. It’s a message through her.”

Lucy nodded. “Right. They didn’t want to say it out loud. But they still needed to communicate something.”

She paused mid-step, her brow furrowing. “Wait. What if it’s not a date or a time?”

Tim sat forward. “You’re thinking location?”

Lucy’s eyes widened. “A locker. They put the number “318” in a locker. What if 318 is a locker number?”

Tim blinked. “You think they’re using lockers as drop spots?”

Lucy nodded slowly. “It makes sense. They’d blend in. No one’s going to question someone stopping by a locker in a busy hallway.”

Tim stood. “If 318’s a drop, we need to check it out ASAP.”

Lucy stood, glancing at the clock“Locker 318. It has to be. Someone wanted us to look there.” She grabbed her jacket. “I have to go. . . I have parking lot duty.”

Tim grabbed the note, folding it in half. “I’ll send Harper and Lopez a text so we can discuss with them tonight.”

Lucy hesitated at the door, her voice low. “And Tim? This was a clue meant for us... someone knows we’re here.”

Tim nodded grimly. “Then we watch our backs.”

. . . .

Outside, the sun had already started to dip low behind the gymnasium. Across the street, in a beat up sedan, someone sat in the driver’s seat, eyes locked on Lucy and Tim as they exited the building. The engine hummed softly, but the car didn’t move.