Chapter 33 Camaraderie
The theater was everything the campus productions weren’t…big, polished, professional. Velvet seats sloped down toward a huge stage framed by heavy curtains that looked really expensive. The Greek tragedy was powerful, all masks and singing chorus and ancient sadness shown in dramatic lighting.
But Mia couldn’t focus on any of it.
She sat three rows behind Elara, who had positioned herself in the center section with a few other drama club officers. From her seat, Mia could see the back of Elara’s perfectly styled head. She watched as Elara leaned toward her friends to whisper comments, playing the role of engaged student leader. The performance continued, but all Mia could think about were those words glowing on a phone screen.
Medication. Chemical reaction.
The chorus wailed about fate and revenge. On stage, Medea planned her terrible revenge. The similarities weren’t lost on Mia, another woman betrayed, another love turned to poison.
During intermission, people immediately surrounded Elara, wanting to discuss the show. Mia watched from a distance as Elara held court, gesturing gracefully about staging choices and vocal technique, looking every bit the knowledgeable arts student. There was no way to get close to Silas without it looking planned. No way to slip away without being noticed.
And Silas was on the opposite side of the theater, maintaining their public distance with the same careful plan they’d practiced. When their eyes met across the crowded lobby, his expression was blank, but she saw the question there. Did something happen?
She gave the tiniest shake of her head. Not here. Not yet.
The second act dragged on forever. When it finally ended and they filed back onto the bus for the return trip, Mia made sure to claim a seat near the back, far from Elara’s usual spot. This time, Elara sat with Jessica and Sarah near the front, their lively conversation about the performance carrying down the aisle.
The bus pulled out into late afternoon traffic. Mia waited until they were well onto the highway, until most people had settled into sleepy post-theater silence or were absorbed in their phones. Then, with her body angled toward the window and her coat pulled around her like a shield, she carefully pulled her phone from her bag.
Her hands shook slightly as she typed, thumb moving across the screen while her eyes stayed fixed on the scenery outside, trying to look like she was just casually scrolling.
The message was for Silas. Short. Vague enough that anyone else reading it would need more information.
Elara got a text on the bus earlier. Saw the preview before she could hide it. Something about medication and chemical reactions. She panicked when she saw it.
She hit send, then immediately locked her phone and slipped it back into her pocket, her heart racing like she’d just committed a crime. In a way, she supposed she had—breaking their agreement not to communicate digitally. But this couldn’t wait.
Minutes crawled by. She forced herself to keep staring out the window, watching trees and highway signs blur past. Then her phone buzzed once against her leg, a silent vibration that made her jump.
She waited. Counted to ten. Made herself breathe normally. Then pulled it out again with the same careful casualness, angling the screen away from any potential eyes.
Silas’s response was brief and controlled. Stay calm. Don’t react. Don’t let her see you’re alert. We’ll talk when we’re back.
The instructions were simple, but seeing them…knowing he was on the other end, aware and already thinking ahead sent a wave of relief through her that was almost physical. She wasn’t alone with this piece of the puzzle. Wasn’t carrying this weight by herself.
She typed a quick reply. Okay.
Then, because she couldn’t help herself, because the adrenaline and fear and strange connection of it all demanded expression, she added I’m glad you’re in this with me.
She sent it before she could second-guess, then immediately regretted it. Too revealing. Too… something. But when his response came a moment later, it was just: Same.
One word. But it settled something anxious in her chest.
Mia powered off her phone completely and tucked it away, then let herself sink back into the seat. For the rest of the journey, she let her mind work through what she’d seen, turning it over like a puzzle piece, looking for where it fit.
The message wasn’t old. It was current. Ongoing. Someone was communicating with Elara about something pharmaceutical, something involving chemical reactions. Was it an accomplice? A supplier? Or was it instructions being reviewed, a reminder of how something worked?
And that word that had been cut off. What came after “chemical reaction”? A warning? A confirmation that something had been disposed of properly? The timing felt significant. Why now, months after Ethan’s death, would Elara be getting messages about medications and reactions?
Unless she was planning something else. Unless the threat wasn’t over.
The thought sent ice down Mia’s spine. She glanced toward the front of the bus, where Elara’s honey-blonde head was visible over the seat back. She was laughing at something Jessica had said, her hand covering her mouth in that delicate way she had. Completely perfect and innocent.
Amidst the fear and the racing thoughts, another feeling surfaced, something warmer and completely unexpected. It was a sudden, strong awareness of what Silas’s partnership meant in this moment. His quick response. His steady instructions. The way he’d immediately understood the importance without her having to explain.
She missed the way his analytical mind cut through confusion to find the answer. On this bus, surrounded by people who had no idea what was really happening, who saw only drama club politics and artistic characters, Silas was the only other person who knew the truth. The only one fighting the same fight.
It wasn’t affection, at least not in a romantic sense. But it was something. A bond built through shared danger. Camaraderie, she realised. That was what it was, trust formed between people who had been forced to rely on each other.
For the first time since Ethan’s death, Mia didn’t feel entirely alone.
The bus pulled back into the St. Augustine’s parking lot as dusk was falling, the old buildings casting long shadows across the pavement. People gathered their things with the usual post-trip chaos of conversations and complaints about aching backs.
Mia waited until Elara had walked down the bus steps, until she was surrounded by her usual crowd heading back toward the dorms. Only then did Mia slip out, keeping her distance, and immediately pulled out her phone.
The message was simple: Music room. One hour.