Chapter 3
Rachel came to her again. First Chloe was alone on the stage, exposed in that goddamn costume again, lights blinding her, sweat running down her face and ribs, the audience mere dark shapes looming over her.
“Wherefore didst thou not come when I cried out?” She turned her head and on cue Rachel traipsed from the shadows, moving with the terrible grace and assurance of Prospera, staff raised high. “Iwis Ariel, must I remember thee our promise?” Magic like the Northern Lights emanated from her, twisting around the stage until they were enclosed in the same circle and Chloe had no choice but to step closer to Rachel to avoid the searing cold wall.
“Mistress, never did I waver in my devotion!” She always cried out, in her voice and not. “Thou hast never left my heart. Yet I have my liberty, I can never rest. Every refuge I seek, you haunt.” Rachel’s staff rested on her shoulder and then forced her to her knees, until Chloe leaned forward on her hands and looked up into her darkly beautiful face. She looked like might have the day she died -- a gruesome crack exposing gleaming white skull, blood covering her face which she did not bother to wipe away, jaw broken and one eye bulging unnaturally outward, seeking to escape her crushed skull.
“Didst I not caution thou?” Rachel said in spite of her injuries, unsympathetic to the raw pain in Chloe’s voice. “Prospera is greatest even in death. My soul refuses all rest, until Ariel mends her err.”
Chloe couldn’t look away from her face, even as tears washed the stage makeup off her skin. “But command me, and any desire is yours.”
Rachel bent down, until her violated, grisly face, frozen in her death mask, was inches from hers. “Come, my Ariel. Follow me as you swore, and in Hell we will know nothing but excitement that consumes all.”
“M-Mistress--”
“The Hell I live in is Ariel’s making!” Rachel spat. “Refuse me and be cursed unto death and beyond.”
Chloe was never sure why the flames came then, rising around her in an explosive burst that blocked out everything, singed the feathers of her costume until it graced her skin and armored her.
She could never remember what happened after that.
**
Max was lying in bed, laptop open on her stomach, when Chloe seized and then bolted up on the couch. “Chloe?”
Half-awake, Chloe wavered sitting up, before flopping back down and rolling onto her stomach, hiding her face. She shook her head into the pillow and Max bade Warren a quick "afk" before going to her. "Hey," she whispered. "It's 7. We gotta get you out of here before people start getting ready -- Chloe?" She finally noticed Chloe hadn't stopped shaking, and wouldn't make eye contact. She sat on the edge of the couch and touched Chloe's shoulder. "What's wrong?"
Chloe mumbled and finally got up on her elbows. Her hair was askew and eyes watery. "Nothing," she finally said. She leaned into Max rubbing her bare shoulder; she'd slept in her clothes. Chloe was a good liar, not an amazing one. Max pressed again: "Seriously--"
"Max, do me a favor." She sat up and turned toward Max, knees pulled up to her chest. "Mind your own business."
Max shook her head and folded one leg underneath herself. "You're my business now," she tried to say lightly, but Chloe just glowered at her.
"Really? Because you were fine ignoring 'your business' until you literally couldn't avoid me anymore."
This. Again. "Chloe, that is *not* how I wanted it to go down --"
"But it did!"
"And you didn't choose to ignore me yesterday --"
"That's not the same thing!" Chloe shouted, voice breaking and so loud Max could give up any hope her dormmates wouldn't know she snuck someone in. "I didn't put either of you on the ledge," she said quietly, swallowing, and looked away. "Fuck this."
"...Either of us?" Max asked, before remembering too late who Chloe would talk about that way. How six months earlier she'd died the way Max almost had.
Chloe got up, searching her jacket on the floor and retrieving a lighter and a pack of cigarettes. "I need a smoke, not a therapy session."
"Chloe," Max said gently. "You couldn't have prevented...what happened to Rachel."
"What would you know about her?" Chloe ripped her window open, lit one up, and stuck nearly her whole head outside, back to Max. "When do you want to kick me out?"
Sensing she wasn't getting anywhere just yet, Max started getting ready for her day. "We can sneak out and get breakfast?" A peace offering of sorts, even though Max couldn't help but feel it wasn't on her to offer one. "And then school's at 10, but maybe after--"
"I've got a place." Chloe flicked ash out the window. "Where we can go and no one will get on our asses." She stubbed her cigarette out and threw it to the ground below.
"As long as I can study for my Stats midterm there." Stats, that class she'd taken to avoid Calculus and that Warren encouraged her was "barely math to begin with, so it'll be easy for you." Liar.
Chloe stepped back from the window, half-turning toward Max, and with a slow wave of her arm willed the window to close by itself--and filling Max with a familiar warmth down to her fingertips. "Don't you wanna practice something more fun?"
"I don't know..." she began, but paused when she saw the look on Chloe's face fading into disappointment. She thought of herself on the ledge, and how maybe even the tiniest bit of power might've saved her if Kate hadn't. "Fine -- you're right." She crossed her arms and tried to smile. "We'll put a spell on Arcadia Bay--"
"And then it'll be ours." Chloe came over and high-fived her. After liberally helping herself to Max's dry shampoo, she fidgeted until Max hurried and dressed.
"Hold on, I gotta quarantine this morning breath," Max said, but Chloe followed her before she could say 'Stay put.' On the way to the bathroom, their stealth mission was foiled when they nearly ran into Victoria Chase, just leaving. Chloe instantly stiffened, but before Max could say ‘Down, girl,’ she attacked: “Hey, Victoria.” Energy emanated from her and Max tugged on her upper arm, urging her not to do anything stupid with her powers. “Up early to vandalize another memorial?”
Victoria rolled her eyes. “I didn’t do that, Kari.”
“But you know who did!” Behind Victoria, a few posters ripped off the wall and fell to the floor. A window slammed open so hard the frame rattled.
“Chloe!”
“The most important question is ‘Who let you in here?’” Victoria raised an eyebrow and smirked at Max. “Caulfield, I’m not saying this because I’m your friend, but: Make sure she didn’t take any of your cash or plant anything in your room. She was a loser even before she got expelled; I’d hate to see what she’s into now.”
The words flew out of Max’s mouth like arrows: “Worry about Nathan. Who knows what’ll happen to you if it ever gets out what he’s been up to lately.” She’d hit a weak point. Victoria’s face twitched in momentary hesitation before she replaced it with affected disgust--carrying with it a sudden wave of fresh, cool energy that washed over her and made her grip Chloe’s arm to keep from buckling under its weight. For a moment, the remaining posters fluttered violently as a gust of wind burst through the open window, and ceased when Victoria exhaled harshly, suddenly tucked her hands underneath her upper arms.
“And if Madsen finds out you snuck her on-campus? Could be a scholarship-breaking infraction for you.” Max hesitated, and then the other shook her head. “Then neither of us saw anything. For now.” She brushed against Max as she passed them, calling back a soft “An STD test wouldn’t be a bad idea, either,” aimed at Chloe.
“Don’t cut yourself on that edge, bitch,” Chloe said, flipping off her retreating back, and with a quick jerk of her wrist, slammed Victoria’s door in her face when she went to go inside, making her shriek as it both surprised her and got her toes. Chloe threw up her hands and mouthed ‘What?’ when Max glared at her. “Let’s get the hell out of here,” she muttered once they were alone, and Max sighed, nodding, toothbrush forgotten.
Breakfast was the result of whatever two teenagers could pool from their pocket change: canned coffee and donuts from the Bakery case at Sherwood’s Grocery, and Chloe ate with one hand and drove with the other, leading them toward the beach where they must’ve spent the equivalent of months when they were kids. Max didn’t think her foot ever left the gas pedal.
“You could’ve really hurt her,” she said at one point, and Chloe gulped down a huge bite of her sugar bomb like a snake with a rat before shooting back, “Don’t say you wouldn’t have done the same thing.”
Well… “We’d both get in trouble if it looked like we attacked her.” Max put her elbow on the windowsill and watched the town limits zip past them. “And isn’t the whole point of going off alone to hide our powers?”
“Maybe we shouldn’t.” She didn’t slow to a stop so much as slammed to one when they reached the parking lot, double-parking over two spaces. “You know, what if the time comes where we can’t? What’s your plan then?” She stared at the water’s edge, chugged her coffee, and rolled down her window before lighting up. “I know I’d like some people off my ass right now.”
“...Do you really want to hurt anyone?”
“No.” Inhale. Exhale. The smoke smell drifted back into the cabin and was turning Max’s stomach on the caffeine and sugar. Was this how people got old -- everything upset their stomachs? “But if people wanna hurt me, why shouldn’t I defend myself?” She looked at Max, considering her for a moment, before adding, “Or you.”
She wasn’t wrong--someone did want to hurt them--and she appreciated the sentiment, but… “I just don’t want to lose you if something happened.” She touched Chloe’s knee, keeping it there and focusing on those fleeting sparks that always bounced off her after she used her powers. Chloe looked at it before smiling so slightly someone else might’ve missed it, and rubbed her wrist, seeking the same feeling off Max.
“Don’t worry about it.” She squeezed her hand over Max’s before teasing, “Can’t keep your hands or your powers off me, huh?”
“Who knows -- maybe I also have the power of attraction.”
“Ugh.” She looked at the rearview mirror suddenly, face darkening, and swore before roaring the engine. “Hold on--” Her truck groaned and screeched with the effort she demanded from it, whirling it in a U-turn so sharp Max feared tipping over, and her heart jumped when she saw they were on a head-on collision course with an RV wider than the truck.
“Chloe --”
“I’ve got it!” The truck jerked and threw Max, without a seatbelt, into the passenger-side window, but they swerved and just scraped past it. Max looked back and saw it had stopped in the narrow entrance-slash-exit to the lot, and had a sinking realization: the driver fully intended to block them in. When she breathed, it came in pants. She hadn’t realized she’d been holding hers until Chloe exhaled beside her. “Nice try, asshole,” she said to the rearview mirror, as the RV grew distant.
“Who was that?”
“Just another guy who could use a door in his face. Or maybe up his ass.” Chloe had new layers every time Max looked at her, some in various states of decay like an onion at the bottom of the fridge. “He won’t find us where we’re going.”
Max rubbed her neck, sore from where she’d been jerked around, and looked at Chloe with concern. “Who else wants to hurt you in this town?” She peeked behind her and true to Chloe’s word, no one followed them.
She didn’t expect a serious answer, until Chloe cracked the knuckles on her right hand and said, “His name’s Frank Bowers, dealer to over half the town and...he takes his business seriously.
“...You owe him money?” Max took a shot in the dark.
“Yeah.” Trying to be flippant, Chloe held up a finger. “Hey, I always pay my bills on time. Not behind on a single ounce. But he’s a fucking loan shark now that his main business is slow.”
“And how much do you owe him?”
“At least three grand? I haven’t bothered to compound the interest.” Chloe glided into the next lane, eyes scanning ahead before suddenly jerking them back toward an exit leading into the trees. Not the lighthouse, at least. “Something’s gonna come through and then I can kiss him off.” She didn’t offer more information. The road stretched on for some twenty more minutes, before Max asked, “Where are we going?”
“Culmination State Park,” Chloe said flatly. “Burnt to the ground in a wildfire a few years ago.” Max remembered it, back when texts from Arcadia Bay Fire Watch still came to her phone. “It’s the farthest place I can think of right now.”
But not as far as she wanted to go, judging by her tone.
**
It had to be Culmination.
The last time Chloe was here, she woke up with a cop rapping on her window, asking her to exit the vehicle calmly. It was not one day since Rachel's death, but three, and she was not only a missing person but apparently a suicide risk. Her truck was out of gas in Culmination, and the cops found her plates there.
There was what she remembered about the day Rachel died, and what it was told to her. It happened in the morning before classes (she'd been asleep), and she remembered she'd had the control to blubber that she had a migraine but not that she wanted an Advil. Mom smoothed a cool washcloth over her eyes and forehead, whispering oh honey she was so sorry.
She got a text elucidating exactly *how* Rachel died, and threw up in the bathroom, and threw up again after Mom tried to make her eat a sandwich. Grilled cheese with bacon and tomato.
After that, there were clues but no story. She was supposedly asleep at 9pm, and by 5am the next morning was gone, along with $500 from the lockbox in the garage, and her truck. Her phone was off. (Surprisingly organized for someone out of her mind, she'd said in outpatient, but nobody laughed.) Chloe could guess what she did, but the real story was probably pathetic and depressing. She remembered at one point speeding on a route, screaming alongside Mitski that "I should move to a brand new city and teach myself how to die." Rachel liked that song.
And then, well. Squad car to hospital to intake to inpatient, "admitted on own recognizance" in the official report. Of course she'd been babbling about suicide -- *Rachel's*.
Two surprising things about hospitalization: they made you take a pregnancy test even if you were on the rag, and a psych nurse would all but shove her finger down your throat if she suspected you were hiding pills.
Trazedone gave her sleep paralysis like a bitch.
And she would've liked to tell Wells herself that the mall cop's benefits were paying for her treatment after the Crazy Bender Tour of '13. They made her pay for the tow back to Arcadia Bay and replace the missing $500 herself, though, necessitating that loan and thus…
Ahead of her, Max already had her camera and snapped away at Rachel's barren monument. She lingered over a shot of the oak, ashy and dead but still standing in spite of it. Efforts to "revitalize the park" had been in talks for three years; at some point Evan emailed her asking to help him put up flyers, but she deleted the message.
"We gonna do this?" She called tiredly, and Max looked up like she'd finally remembered her.
"Any ideas?" Chloe debated being cute and trying to flip Max's hood up over her face, but the thought of laying hands on her after yesterday made her uneasy. "Hm..." It was always easier for her to throw things, the bigger the better, or rip or shove or rend. Lifting things and bringing them to her took so much fine concentration and was so exhausting it usually wasn't worth the effort.
Chloe pulled her lighter from her pocket -- "Catch!" -- and tossed them to Max, who fumbled like it was a pop fly. One time she'd got hit in the face with one in Gym class and busted her lip, chipped a baby tooth. "Just hold that out and let me try to take it from you." She took a deep breath, trying to draw in that energy, and raised her hand. Her first arm tugged *Max* forward by the wrist, and the second snagged her sleeve. "Chloe --"
"I've got it!"
"No --" And then Max yelped and fell forward as the third time yanked her left arm so hard she tripped over herself.
"Max!" She rushed to her side, and Max sat up, dusting off her arms and front where dirt coated them. "Shit, sorry, are you okay?"
"I told you not to touch me." She handed Chloe back the lighter. She didn't react when Chloe brushed her shoulders off uselessly.
"I wasn't trying to."
Max pinched her inner elbow through her sleeves, exhaling through her nose. "I feel nauseous," she said quietly, then coughed and covered her mouth. At a loss, Chloe hung there and watched her brace herself against something, before shaking her head.
"Let's just do you, okay?"
"I'm not sure --"
"Please." If she could just get things rolling again maybe Max wouldn't ghost her by the start of classes. "You cracked your phone right? What if you tried to fix that?" Max seemed lost in space, and Chloe actually dug her phone out of her sweatshirt pocket, holding it up. "You got this."
Max took the phone, considering it, and spidered her fingers across the screen. "I don't know how," she said tiredly. "I don't know where it comes from and I--"
"Oh come on, you gotta try." Chloe rubbed her upper arm. That same static buzzed lightly around Max; if Rachel was here she'd decipher their individual auras for sure. Rachel's was always...encompassing. Solid. Like herself. "We're a team. Here, maybe..." She tried to focus on what her own magic felt like, that rush of blood, and though it strained her brain she tried to draw in Max's energy too until Max's head nodded a bit and Chloe felt a stun gun to the chest. In their own bubble again, the edges of her vision warped and she blearily watched Max focus hard on her phone, stroking its screen again and again until epiphany lit up her eyes. She revealed a whole, pristine phone screen, and then her hands dropped to her lap and she sagged forward so fast she fell into Chloe's chest. They supported each other until the wind picked up and sent a swirl of dust around them that made Chloe tear up.
She helped Max stand and walked her to the truck, hoisting her into the cabin by the arms, no powers. Exhausted, but relieved. Good. Chloe did something right by her. "See? You're a handyman's wet dream."
"You're lucky I can't walk back to Blackwell right now," Max teased back. "Oh, hey..." She rubbed Chloe's jaw with her thumb. "I got dirt all over you."
"I think I started it by tossing you around."
"Seriously though, just...be careful. I think my heart's gonna explode if I get bodyjacked again." In the silence, they sat until Max's phone went off; of course her ringtone was some kind of indie tune that sounded like it was recorded while the singer was stoned. "Oh, hold on," and she answered before Chloe could interrupt. Thanks, Max.
Still, it gave her an opportunity to check her own phone on the sly. She walked away a bit, back to Max, and saw her favorite thing: message alerts from Mom, Frank, *and* David within the span of twenty minutes. Joy.
Frank first: *money. friday. last warning.*
Mom: *Did you remember the check on the counter? Text me when you get there.*
And the best for last, David: *13:00 hours, not a second late. I expect a receipt on top of your normal report as proof.* The second one was harder not to fire back at: *Do not test me again, Chloe.*
She had time for *ok Mom* and *fine. you want that notarized too?* before Max called her back. "Sorry, that was Kate." She rubbed her left shoulder. "She found me yesterday and I didn't want her to think I was a suicide risk if I didn't answer. Oh uh..." She must've seen the flicker of resentment on Chloe's face. "Sorry."
"That's the word for it, isn't it?" She didn't dare look over her shoulder because she might never look forward again. "We gotta go. This is a longer drive than I planned so unless --"
"Who says I wanna go back to Blackwell?" Max curled forward and flexed her feet, an old nervous habit. "After yesterday, I think I earned a vacation."
"...I can't today."
"Why?"
Chloe shrugged. "Do you need another reason to get in trouble with Wells? You caved when Victoria threatened your scholarship."
"No, I played nice nice with her because I didn't want David to find out about you."
"Sure."
Max jumped down, wobbled, but stood straight. "Is anything going to be enough for you?"
"What the hell does that mean? Now I'm a bitch for looking out for you like I promised?"
"Then just stay with me today."
Chloe felt the energy surge and bit the edge of her tongue. *Not now.* She tugged on her hair and pushed it out of her face. "Max. I want to. I really, really want to." This was Max, she'd understand if Chloe told her the whole story. Of course she would. But then she'd get deeper into it and turn into another person who treated her like a timebomb. "There's something I gotta do and I don't want company. Okay?"
Max crossed her arms and considered her with naked disappointment. Then she got back in the truck and shut the door.
The drive back was the Arctic, and the distance to Blackwell further than the width of Oregon when you were trapped in a car with someone you'd just pissed off. When they finally rolled to the curb, neither moved until Chloe said "I'll be here at 4. Swear."
"Okay." If Max took the olive branch or was just humoring her, Chloe couldn't tell. "Bye." She watched her head up the steps, meeting Kate at the top and they walked off together. Fine, fine, fine, Chloe thought as she pointed the truck home. Of course she'd forgotten the check yesterday. And her stomach was starting to hurt because of the missed dose.
"I can still smell the fire," Mitsuki crooned, a song Rachel would never hear. “Even though it's long died out.” Chloe turned it up.
**
Kate didn't walk her to AP Lit, but instead to the end of the walkway where Principal Wells waited for them.
"I'm not late," Max protested with irritation fueled by her morning.
"You're not -- you're excused from first period. Miss Caulfield, I need to see you in my office immediately." A thousand thoughts raced through Max’s head -- everything that could’ve gone wrong between yesterday and right now, everything she definitely did not need him knowing -- and she squeezed the chest strap of her bag and nodded.
Kate touched her shoulder as she went to go, and her face hid guilt poorly. She couldn’t help but feel like she was leaving last rites for the gallows as she went inside and followed the principal to his office. Goodbye scholarship? Goodbye Blackwell, goodbye Arcadia Bay, goodbye Chloe…
"The first thing I want you to know is you're not in trouble," Principal Wells said in a tone Max guessed was supposed to be casual and comforting. "That said, it's been brought to my attention that you're suspected of engaging in high-risk behaviors and allegedly committing infractions against the Blackwell Code of Conduct. If you have anything to tell me, now is the time."
Max couldn't help but shake her head. "Don't I deserve to be told what I'm being accused of first?" And exactly how hard she needed to go for Victoria Chase after this meeting.
"I can't help but point out that you're not denying anything. Miss Caulfield, to use an old cliche: 'The truth will set you free.' You can cooperate now or force me to escalate my methods of investigation."
"...Are you threatening me?"
"No, merely reminding you that your actions have consequences. So, I ask you again: Do you have anything you'd like to tell me of your own volition?"
'You're protecting a psycho but somehow have the guts to say I'm the criminal.' "I don't have anything to say."
He sighed and tented his fingers, leaning forward on his elbows. "I'm highly concerned about your well being, based on the testimony of trustworthy -- and very caring, might I add -- sources close to you. A report you had a physical altercation with another student over drugs. Destruction of school property. Confiding thoughts of self-harm. Inconsistent academic performance. And flagrantly violating your dormitory's rules by sneaking out and hosting an unauthorized overnight guest." He looked at her skeptically. "Really, Miss Caulfield, you couldn't have thought no one would recognize the daughter of the Head of Security --"
"Stepdaughter."
"And now insubordination. If I verify these reports, I would be well within my rights to suspend you for the school year, if not expel you outright." He shook his head and tried to soften his expression. "But because of those who vouched for both your character and difficulty adjusting to being away from home, and Blackwell's belief in rehabilitation not retribution, I am inclined to give you a conditional grace period."
"And?"
"Blackwell is pushing a new model for mental illness awareness and suicide prevention, and part of that is identifying students who may be in crisis. Based on my findings, I've decided you would benefit from a pilot intervention program." He got up, letting her reel in her seat, and opened his door. "You can come in now."
She couldn't hide her disappointment when Mr. Jefferson came in and took a seat by Wells' side. "Max," he said gently. "Please understand that part of my job as your teacher is to look out for your best interest, not be your friend."
Max gripped the sides of her seat, her nails bending under the pressure, and let flow some of the energy spilling up her throat, out between her ribs. She opened her mouth, but thought of everything she might blow if she said exactly what she wanted, kicked her chair across the room, and walked out. For the first time, she feared losing control of her reaction. No more scholarship, no more extended program, goodbye portfolio, goodbye...everything she thought she wanted. Beneath her palms, the seat cushion shrank down, receding to expose the wood underneath.
“I think -- with a little help -- you can make the most of your potential. I’d like to invite you to join a new on-campus support group.” He held up his hands. “Totally confidential. We just meet twice a week to let off steam, learn coping skills, and practice a bit of art therapy. Because you’re a legal adult, your parents don’t even need to know.”
“You have a choice to make: participate and I will grant you the benefit of the doubt. Refuse,” he shook his head, “and the consequences will escalate.”
“Ray -- coercion is not how we get students to feel comfortable at Blackwell,” Mr. Jefferson unexpectedly -- but too late -- spoke out of turn to support her. “Don’t you think this is too much pressure?”
They began to speak among themselves, but she didn’t hear. Searing pain covered Max’s palms and flowed up her arms, which locked into place. Beneath her, the physical material beneath her was rapidly disappearing. She couldn’t even think in words, unable to respond to their prompts, and then the chair collapsed underneath her, dropping her hard onto the floor. She lied there, staring at the ceiling and watching barely-visible surges of energy crawl across the ceiling, and her toes, elbows, and shoulders were suddenly cooler. Someone fussed around her, but her head felt faraway and distant, dizzy when someone lifted her and put her in a new chair. Looking down, she saw her shoes were worn down, her pants and hoodie frayed, and the chair she’d been in was in pieces -- parts of it strained and worn clear through as if burned.
Despite the fall, her worst injury was a sore tailbone, and after making sure their liability was minimal, they went on:
“The choice is ultimately yours--”
“As it should be.”
“And again I’d like to stress the emphasis is on ensuring your success both at Blackwell and in life --”
“But you need to want this, Max, not because you’re afraid of being punished,” he aimed this last part at Principal Wells, “for needing help.”
“She is not being punished, and if you interrupt me one more time--”
“Fine!” Max clutched her temple. “I’ll go. Can I please leave?” She was given an excused absence for the rest of the day and instructions to report to the photography classroom after school. On her way to her room, she experimentally trailed her fingers along the walls, the edges of lockers and windows, bulletin boards, and watched edges warp away, crack, and dissolve satisfyingly at her own hands. The walkway cracked beneath her feet and she burned the imprint of her hands into the wall of her floor to see that she could. She had all the therapy she needed under her skin; nothing made her feel more connected to the present than completely surrendering control of herself to magic.
She bypassed her room, and entered the girls’ showers, her fingers sliding along the knobs as the metal wore away under her fingers, and blasted herself with cold water that soaked her clothes and still couldn’t cut through the consuming sensations, gradually blending together into pain. For a second she thought she might die from it, as her clothes sloughed off with the water and piled at her feet, bare of shoes, and she stood in the contained storm in the stall.
When she came to, she was shivering, and turned the water off, wrapped her arms around herself. Her head was fuzzy but her memories clear, as well as the knowledge that she needed a towel. “Excuse me,” she called quietly to the incoming footsteps. “I did something kinda dumb.”