Solienne

The banana was cold, its peel stiff where her fingers pinched it open. Isabella took a small bite, forcing herself to chew. Her hands were trembling again, and though the purple coat wrapped snugly around her thin frame, the cold still seeped in like smoke through the cracks of a house long abandoned.

The tree above her rustled gently, its leaves just beginning to turn with the creeping edge of winter. This spot - her spot - overlooked the school's field. A long stretch of green that no one cared to sit near. Too quiet. Too far from the noise. Perfect.

Her breath puffed out in soft clouds as she tried to steady herself, resting her head back against the bark. The coat smelled faintly of something—cologne, maybe. Or smoke and mint. She didn't know. All she knew was that it was warm. Warmer than anything she'd owned in years.

The note still sat in her backpack.

"Maybe no one else noticed. But I did. - L"

She hadn't told anyone. Who would she tell? No one really spoke to her, not unless they were sneering or asking her to move. But something about that note... it had made her throat ache. In a good way. Like someone had seen her. Actually seen her.

She finished half the banana before her body gave up. Her hands dropped to her lap, head tilting back, eyes fluttering closed—just for a minute.

Then - footsteps.

She heard them before she felt them. Two sets. Confident. Slow.

Her heart stuttered. She straightened quickly, pulling the coat tighter around herself.

"Hey." The voice was gravelly but quiet.

Isabella turned her head. Antonio Moretti. Behind him, his twin, Francesco, wore the same unreadable expression. They were shadows and sharp lines in the morning sun, dark against the pale field.

She blinked, uncertain. They were never this close. Never directly with her.

"I... um..." she started, then stopped, unsure what she was even trying to say.

"You always sit here?" Francesco asked, his tone lighter than his brother's. He stepped forward, not waiting for an answer, and lowered himself to the ground with practiced ease. Antonio stood just behind, hands stuffed in his coat pockets, eyes scanning the field before settling on her again.

Isabella nodded slowly. "It's quiet."

"That's the point, isn't it?" Francesco said, tugging at a piece of grass. "Easier to think."

Antonio's gaze dropped to the banana peel beside her, then to her shivering hands. "That your lunch?"

She hesitated again. "Yeah..."

Francesco tilted his head. "You sure?"

"I'm... not hungry."

"You look like you haven't eaten in days."

She said nothing.

The wind shifted, catching a strand of her hair and tossing it across her cheek. Francesco watched her tuck it behind her ear. His expression flickered - just for a moment. Not pity. Something quieter. Sadder.

"You always lie that easily?" he asked, but there was no edge to it.

"I'm not lying," she whispered.

He didn't push.

Antonio sat down suddenly, the movement so unexpected she flinched. He didn't notice - or pretended not to. His eyes, sharp and calculating in the classroom, now held a flicker of something softer. Curiosity, maybe. Or caution.