The school gym shimmered under disco lights strung unevenly across the ceiling. Colored beams cut through the air in sweeping arcs, bouncing off the glossy floor and catching on sequined dresses and lacquered shoes. A slow, synth-heavy song throbbed from the speakers—low enough to talk over, loud enough to drown small thoughts.
Sarah stood near the refreshment table, a paper cup of punch in her hand. She wasn't dancing. Not yet. But she also wasn't hiding.
The locket around her neck felt heavier than usual tonight.
She reached up and touched it—an unconscious gesture at first. Then deliberate. The clasp, recently replaced, was cool and solid under her fingers. It no longer slipped or caught in the fabric of her shirts. The chain didn't twist.
Someone had fixed it. She hadn't taken it in. Hadn't asked.
But it was fixed.
And when she pressed the locket gently, it gave a slight, reassuring resistance. Nothing snapped or shifted. The mechanism was firm. Reliable.
The weight comforted her. Centered her.
From the doorway, Mia watched.
Her heart pounded.
Not because of the music or the crowd, but because Sarah's fingers lingered on the locket longer this time. Not absent-mindedly. Not in passing.
But like she was remembering something.
Or trying to.
⸻
The gym smelled like sugar and floor polish. Streamers hung in crepe drapes over the bleachers. A teacher in a sparkly vest kept an eye on the punch bowl, half-asleep. Students mingled in islands—some dancing, some swaying by themselves.
Sarah took a breath.
Then stepped toward the edge of the dance floor.
She didn't plan to join a group.
She just wanted to feel the music.
She let it wash over her. Let it shift the air around her limbs. One song faded. Another picked up—more upbeat now. Familiar.
She smiled.
Her hand dropped from the locket, but only to adjust the strap of her dress. She tugged gently, aligning the neckline. The fabric shimmered under the lights.
Mia remained in the shadows, notebook closed for once. She wasn't here to observe. Not tonight.
She was just making sure the clasp held.
⸻
Earlier that day, she had slid the locket back into Sarah's jewelry box.
The repair had taken two tries. The first clasp had been too thin, prone to catching. The second had arrived in a velvet pouch—tarnish-resistant, sturdy, near identical to the original. Mia had used jeweler's pliers under a magnifying lens.
She hadn't breathed the entire time.
Now, she watched it catch the light.
And she let herself exhale.
It had held.
And that meant something.
⸻
Across the gym, Sarah moved through the crowd with quiet poise. She didn't seek attention, but people turned to smile as she passed. A few waved. She nodded back.
A classmate in a green dress tapped her arm.
"I love your necklace," she said.
Sarah blinked. "Oh. Thanks. It was my mom's."
She hadn't meant to say that. It slipped out. But it was true.
The clasp glinted.
A memory flickered—of a folded flyer, a half-read pamphlet, a receipt with too-familiar loops of handwriting.
And suddenly, she was thinking of them all at once.
She tucked the locket beneath her collar.
The music swelled.
She turned toward the dance floor again.
This time, she didn't stop at the edge.
She stepped into the lights.
⸻
Mia shifted. She didn't know if Sarah had made the connection. But something had changed in her posture. A subtle straightening. A steadier blink.
It wasn't suspicion.
Not yet.
But it was… attention.
That was new.
⸻
Sarah let the beat guide her. Nothing complicated—just small movements. Weight shifting side to side. The locket rested just beneath her collarbone, cool but not cold.
A boy she knew vaguely offered her a high five. She gave it.
Another asked her to join a circle. She shook her head but smiled.
She was comfortable here. Just like this.
⸻
The disco ball above spun slowly, scattering light across the gym floor. The beam passed over Sarah's face. She blinked, caught a glimpse of herself in the long mirror on the wall.
She looked… whole.
And then a strange sensation rippled through her.
Not fear.
Just alertness.
She glanced toward the entrance.
Empty.
No one followed.
But still—
Her hand moved to the locket again.
And she pressed it once.
⸻
Mia saw the motion. Saw the press.
It wasn't random.
It was conscious.
She stepped back into the hallway.
Didn't leave.
Just stood there.
Just in case.
⸻
Later, when the slow songs returned and the disco ball turned in earnest, Sarah found a quiet spot on the bleachers. Her shoes pinched, but her heart felt light.
She reached for the locket again.
The clasp was perfect.
Just like the moment.
And for the first time in a long time, she whispered a thank you.
To no one in particular.
Or maybe to someone she hadn't met yet.
A teacher passed and offered her a cookie. She took it. Bit once. Smiled.
The song changed.
She stood again.
Returned to the floor.
⸻
Mia remained at the doorway.
She knew she wouldn't follow her into the crowd.
She didn't need to.
The locket was secure.
Sarah was too.
For tonight.