Zelta Twilight sat at her usual table beneath the art wing window, fiddling with the zipper of her pencil pouch as students buzzed around her. The morning light spilled in at an angle, painting everything in soft gold.
Across the table, the new girl — Diana Myles — watched her with a kind of lazy confidence Zelta hadn't seen in anyone since middle school. Dark eyes lined with smudged eyeliner, braids twisted into a high knot, boots on the seat like she owned the place.
"You space out a lot," Diana said, smirking. "Do you astral project or are you just bored of existence?"
Zelta blinked, caught off guard. "Neither. Just...thinking."
"About Jackson? Or the guy who showed up at school looking like he walked out of a werewolf reboot?"
Zelta paused, fingers going still.
Diana arched an eyebrow. "What? I observe."
Zelta leaned back in her chair. "Scott used to be one of my best friends. We all used to be tight — me, him, Jackson, Sky. Then he left. No calls. No messages. Just disappeared."
"And now he's back. Taller, hotter, mysterious injury," Diana said casually, picking at her black nail polish. "Bet your boyfriend's loving that."
Zelta gave her a sharp look. "Jackson's fine."
Diana met her gaze, unbothered. "Sure. But are you?"
Zelta didn't answer. She didn't have one.
Because the truth was...Scott's return had cracked something open. Something she'd buried a long time ago. She didn't miss him — not exactly. But the sound of his voice, the glint of his smile, the memories of summer nights and bike rides through the woods — they stirred old versions of herself. Ones she wasn't sure she liked remembering.
"Hey." Diana's voice dropped, softer now. "I'm not judging you. I'm just saying — you don't have to be the same person you were three years ago. People change. You can, too."
Zelta looked at her.
Something about Diana made it feel safe to be uncertain. Unsafe too, in a totally different way.
She found herself smiling. "You're a lot for someone I met, like, a week ago."
"I'm a gift," Diana said with a wink.
Zelta laughed, and for a moment, the pressure eased.
Outside, in the courtyard, Jackson passed by with the soccer team — Scott jogging beside him. Zelta's smile faltered just slightly. She didn't even realize she'd leaned toward the window until Diana gently pushed her notebook back in front of her.
"Focus," Diana said, teasing. "No ghost-chasing during chemistry."
Zelta smirked. "Yes, ma'am."
But the feeling lingered.
Because sometimes, ghosts weren't just the dead.
Sometimes they were the people you used to love — or the pieces of yourself you left behind.