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It took only three meetings for Shallan to fall completely for Jasnah Kholin.

The memory of that first meeting overtook Shallan as she stood at her locker, shoving her lightweight fall jacket and her lunchbox inside the narrow space.  Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of blue and silver farther down the crowded hallway.

 “So, you want to join the debate team?  Good, good!” The team advisor, Ms. Rushu, clapped her hands together and looked intensely at the group of nervous first-year students.  “Today’s tryouts are the first step.  Let’s see if you have what it takes!”  The teacher turned and made a beckoning gesture to a handful of upperclassmen who had been waiting off to one side of the room. 

To Shallan’s surprise and dismay, she found herself matched up with what had to be the most attractive young woman ever to attend Sunmaker High School.  The sophomore student was slender and graceful but with generous curves in all the right places, her jet-black hair caught up in a stylish updo.  She wore casual clothing, blue with silver print, which was obviously expensive without being pretentious.  …And, geez.  Those had to be contact lenses.  That striking violet color just couldn’t be natural.

The other girl cleared her throat, and Shallan realized that she was staring.  She blushed and ran a nervous hand over red hair made frizzy by the humidity.  She was suddenly very self-conscious of her quite unfashionable secondhand clothing.  Shallan pretended to take great interest in the graffiti carved into the edge of her desk as she settled into the seat across from the other student.

“I’m going to ask you a series of questions,” the sophomore said.  Her voice was a smooth alto.  She held a clipboard up in front of herself, making a few notations on the debate scorecard that Shallan knew was there but couldn’t actually see.  “You must try to answer as quickly and as persuasively as possible.  Answers that are factually incorrect will incur a penalty.  Are you ready?”

Shallan wasn’t.  Her palms were damp and her stomach suddenly seemed to be full of butterflies.  She forced herself to nod anyway.

“Good, then let’s begin.” 

The memory evaporated as the hint of blue and silver down the hallway resolved itself into a familiar figure.  Shallan tried to make herself look less conspicuous, surreptitiously peering out around the edge of her locker door.  

Jasnah Kholin, student council president and now a senior, strode down the hallway.  She kept her hair longer, nowadays—pulled back from the sides and fastened with hair sticks, with the bulk of it falling in thick waves down to the small of her back.  Today she had on a flowing dark blue shirt with off-the-shoulder sleeves and a gray tank top underneath.  Tight-fitting blue jeans accentuated her long, athletic legs.  The only piece of jewelry she wore was a long silver chain around her neck.  Somehow even in the crowded corridor, human and singer students alike made way for her—she didn’t have to duck and weave around the others the way Shallan did when she headed to class. 

Sebarial, treasurer for the student council, followed a half-step behind her.  The two were in animated conversation.  Probably discussing student council business.

Jasnah had been away for the entirety of her junior year, on a student exchange to Greece.  …Studying the Classical and the Hellenistic periods, Renarin had said, and also fulfilling a childhood dream of walking among structures that had stood for millennia.  Shallan would have thought that her helpless crush on the older girl would have faded after all that time.  However, seeing her now—that statuesque figure, that perfect beauty, that commanding poise and grace—all of Shallan’s confusing and conflicting emotions about her came rushing back ten times worse.

Jasnah glanced over.  For the briefest of moments their eyes met, and Shallan felt a jolt run through her, like lightning.

Then Jasnah was past her, continuing down the hall without looking back.  Shallan twisted around and stared helplessly after her.

 The young woman who had been testing her finished tallying up the points on the debate scorecard.  “You won’t like what I have to say.”

She turned the clipboard so that Shallan could see the card.  There were three sections where points had been tallied up, corresponding to the three categories of classic debate; preparation, argumentation and delivery.  The other student had ranked her as fair in delivery and slightly below average in argumentation.  The preparation score, however… Shallan’s heart sank.

“You may appeal my decision with Ms. Rushu, and she may choose to test your skills herself.  However, I have never yet been wrong about an applicant.”  The other student rose to her feet, clearly signaling that the tryout was at an end.  “I am sorry.” 

 “You gonna take all day, sella?” a good-natured voice spoke up beside her.  “I’m just curious.  This hallway is really interesting and all, and it’s not like, sure, I’ve got anyplace else to be.”

“Oh!” It was almost time for the homeroom bell.  Shallan grabbed her algebra textbook and backed out of her locker, slamming it shut and giving the combination lock a twist for good measure.  “Sorry, Lopen.”

Lopen slid into place as she got out of the way, turning his own lock back and forth and then banging once on the front of his locker to pop it open.  He tucked the foam case containing his school-issued chromebook under his armpit, holding it in place expertly with the stump of his left arm.  Shallan had seen him taking notes in class--he could type with one hand faster than most other students could with two. Lopen slammed the locker shut again with an elbow.  He looked down the hall as Jasnah disappeared into one of the classrooms.  “Don’t worry, sella.  You’ll catch her one of these days.”

Shallan blushed.  She hadn’t realized she was being that obvious.  Well, Lopen’s locker was right next to hers, and it probably wasn’t the first time he’d noticed her staring at Jasnah as the senior passed by them on the way to homeroom.

“Not likely,” she sighed.  “For that to happen, she would have to acknowledge that I actually exist.”

Lopen purposefully tapped a crystalline fingernail against the metal of her locker to catch her attention.  The fingernails were a sign of his mixed heritage—he had both singer and human blood.  “She knows you exist.  She looked this way this time, didn’t she?  That’s, sure, practically a declaration of undying love right there.”

I wish.  Shallan opened her mouth to make a halfhearted joke in reply, but just then the school bell rang, prompting the two of them to hurry off in opposite directions to avoid being late for homeroom.

***

E period was lunch.  Shallan grabbed her lunchbox from her locker and headed to the cafeteria to meet up with Renarin.

She’d thought Renarin was creepy when they’d first met.  Then she’d learned that he was high-functioning autistic.  He was brilliant, but had sensory-processing issues and had a hard time interpreting facial expressions and body language.  Today he was toying with a black plastic cube that had blue sliders and dials on it, pausing occasionally to take bites of his lunch.  He always brought the same thing every day.  Gluten-free turkey and cheese sandwich, a bag of plain potato chips and exactly eight apple slices. 

Shallan smiled fondly and sat down next to him.  They’d become good friends in 8^th grade, when they’d both wound up participating in the Future City competition.  They’d had a blast with the challenge—to design an entirely self-contained and self-sufficient tower city.  She’d worked on the architectural design of the mountain-top metropolis, while Renarin had figured out ways to help power the life-support systems.  Their team had done well, placing third in the state competition.

He’d mentioned way back then that he had a stepsister.  It wasn’t until Shallan had met Jasnah for the second time and had prodded Renarin for more details on the Kholin family that she had discovered that Jasnah was also his first cousin.  It was kind of a confusing relationship, since the rather bizarre marriage between his father and his late uncle’s wife had made Jasnah and Renarin stepsiblings as well as blood relatives.  

Renarin’s father had passed away two years ago, just after Renarin’s older brother had left for college.  Now Renarin lived with his stepmother and her two children from her first marriage.  That was another bit of common ground between him and Shallan.  They’d both lost their birth parents.

The buzz of cafeteria noise was disrupted by a sudden burst of delighted laughter, and Shallan glanced over towards the lunch line.  The principal of Sunmaker High School was standing right next to the teacher on lunch duty, Dr. Raboniel.  Principal Kholin had a hand raised to smiling lips, her eyes still crinkling with mirth at whatever the tall singer woman had said.

“Y’know,” Shallan mused aloud, “Your stepmom seems… awfully familiar with the physics teacher.”

“Hm?” Renarin looked away from the fidget cube long enough to take in the sight of the two older women.  “Oh, they’re dating.”

“What??!”

“Yeah, for about two months now.  They’ve been trying to keep it quiet.  The superintendent doesn’t approve of workplace relationships.”  His expression was tinged with mild curiosity.  “How could you tell?”

“Standing too close together.  …And Principal Kholin keeps reaching out and touching the science teacher’s arm.  If they want to keep it a secret on the school grounds, they’ll need to try harder than that.”

“Ah.  I’ll pass on the warning.  Thanks.”

Shallan opened her own lunchbox and made a face.  Peanut butter and jelly.  Again.  Her current foster-mom was not exactly an accomplished cook.

Shallan and her three younger siblings had been in foster-care ever since Shallan’s oldest brother Helaran had disappeared.  Tyn was better than some of the other foster parents Shallan had known.  However, she didn’t exactly have a motherly temperament.  She also had a penchant for drinking and gambling that ate up a lot of the money she received from the state for taking care of the Davar children. 

There were less than two years left before Shallan turned eighteen.  Less than two years until she could gain her independence.  She already had an afterschool job at a florist’s shop, and was in the process of applying for paid summer internships.  She dreamed of earning her BA and possibly an MFA in order to pursue a career in graphic arts.  Ms. Palona was one of the few people she’d told.  The motherly art teacher kept sending her scholarship notices that she said would help with the cost.

It was the influence of her art and her art teacher that had indirectly led to Shallan’s second meeting with Jasnah Kholin.

 The library nook was sunny and comfortable.  Shallan hadn’t been quite sure what to expect when her sketching had been interrupted by Ms. Palona at the start of her study hall period.  The teacher had handed her a hall pass and instructed her to go find a place with more natural light.  She’d wound up here in the library, sitting at a tiny corner cubicle, surrounded by stacks of books that had been left behind by other students.

The window light was vastly better than the harsh fluorescents of the study hall classroom, and Shallan found herself falling into the half-trance that often came over her while she was sketching.  Her hand had itched to draw Jasnah, the student who had tested her during the disastrous debate team tryout.  It was the downside of having a photographic memory--she couldn’t seem to get the image of that confident and beautiful face out of her head.  However, she was wary of preserving it on paper, indulging in what was clearly a dangerous fascination with the other student.  It was obvious that Jasnah Kholin was far, far out of her league.

Instead, she settled on more neutral subjects.  A jovial horneater boy in her world history class who jokingly called her “cousin” because of their shared red hair.  Her creaky old math teacher, Mr. Elthebar.  A cheerful taxi driver named Yalb whom she’d met the other day.  She was only halfway finished with the third sketch, when spoken words intruded into her quiet space.

“You’re in my spot.”

Shallan froze.  She recognized that smooth, cultured voice.  Slowly, she looked up.

Jasnah Kholin stood in front of the cubical, her expression filled with irritation, perfectly painted red lips pressed down into a flat line.

Part of Shallan quailed at the sight; but the imperiousness of the words got under her skin, and she found herself responding without thinking.  “I’m sorry,” she replied lightly, sweeping a hand over the surface of the cubical desk as if looking for something. “Huh.  I don’t see anything here.  You must have forgotten to scribble your name on this desk before you left.”

Jasnah’s face darkened further.  Without a word, she reached out and turned the closest stack of books so that Shallan could read the spines.  Plato’s The Republic.  Meditations by Marcus Aurelius.  Rhetoric by Aristotle.  A volume of writing excerpted from the works of Cicero entitled How to Win an Argument. 

It was not the normal sophomore reading list.  Jasnah was obviously preparing for an upcoming debate.  Shallan still hadn’t completely recovered from her rejection at the tryouts last month, and seeing the books was like salt in a fresh cut.

“Oh,” Shallan said in a small voice.  She mechanically scooped up her things, heedless of whether she smudged her sketches.  “I’m sorry to have bothered you.  My mistake.”  She edged past Jasnah and turned to leave.

“You know,” Jasnah’s voice sounded behind her.  Shallan paused, although she didn’t turn around again.  “…If you’re serious about trying out for the debate team again next fall, I’d suggest reading these.”  Shallan glanced back long enough to see that Jasnah was holding up three books.  The books by Plato, Aristotle and Cicero.

Her expression was difficult to read, but it seemed like those violet eyes were no longer quite so hostile.  Not quite sure what to say, Shallan gave a tight nod in her direction before fleeing back to study hall. 

Shallan sighed.  She pushed the memory aside, and forced her attention back to her lunch.

Never the best conversationalist, Renarin was staring off into the distance.  He seemed… spacier than usual today.

Shallan followed his gaze.  Correction.  He was staring at a group of three singer students chatting beside one of the big cafeteria windows.  Shallan recognized the female singer from her English class.  Eshonai.  She’d transferred to Sunmaker High with a few other singers at the beginning of the school year.

“Renarin.”  When that got no response, she waved a hand in front of his face.  “Renarin, you’re drooling.”

He blinked.  It took a moment for him to realize that she hadn’t meant it literally.  He reddened and muttered under his breath.  “Am not.”

“Are too.”  She craned her neck theatrically to look over at the group of singers.  “…Soooo, which one is it?”

“Which one is what?”

“Nice try.  You know very well what I mean.”

He opened his mouth, looking like he wanted to object.  After a moment, he closed it again, shoulders slumping.  “How can you tell?”

Shallan grinned at him.  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you looking at anyone with such rapt attention before.”  She looked back at the group appraisingly. “Both boys seem handsome.  You know, from a purely artistic point of view.”

“Rlain,” Renarin finally mumbled without looking at her, answering her original question.  “On the right.  New transfer student this year.  Midfielder on the lacrosse team.  Nineteen goals, twenty-six assists, seventeen saves last season at his old school.”

She gave him a look.  “Since when are you interested in sports?”

He looked vaguely affronted.  “I’ve always been interested in sports.  Adolin plays soccer, and was the captain of the cross-country team.”

“Okay, let me re-phrase that.  Since when have you been interested in lacrosse?”

At that, he blushed again.  “Since… recently.”  He began to fiddle with the cube again, glancing over towards the window a few times.  “He’s in my AP Calculus class, and just joined the math team.”

Shallan made an encouraging noise.  “Sounds promising.”

Renarin checked the time on his cell phone, then pocketed his cube and began packing up.  “Oh, I almost forgot; are you going to be around at school this weekend?”

Shallan nodded.  “I got asked to help out with the junior class float for the Homecoming Parade.”

“Jasnah’s got a student council meeting on Saturday afternoon, to plan for Spirit Week.”  He shrugged.  “Just in case you wanted to know.”

“Thanks for the tip.”

The tone that signaled the end of E period sounded over the intercom system, and Renarin stood up.  “Gotta go.  Gym class with Mr. Lezian.”

Shallan winced in sympathy as she gathered up leftover food wrappers.  “That guy’s a psycho.”

“Tell me about it,” Renarin grimaced as he picked up his soft-sided lunch cooler.  “Later.”

***

Shallan sat on the hillside overlooking the main entrance to the school.  She’d helped out for two hours with the design of junior class float before Janala and her clique had arrived to take over the show.  Shallan ducked out at that point, figuring that she had better things to do than listen to them ordering other students around and being harassed herself. 

Now Shallan had her chromebook out, as well as the drawing tablet that had been a present from her brothers at Christmas.  She was carefully sketching a cluster of flowers from a nearby blooming crepe myrtle tree.  Lagerstroemia indica.  If she couldn’t draw people, she always preferred drawing plants or animals, rather than landscapes or objects.  She’d taken up reading books on natural history at a young age, and Ms. Palona seemed to think that she had career potential as a scientific illustrator, if she decided to go in that direction.

She told herself it wasn’t just an excuse to keep an eye on the school building, in hopes of spotting Jasnah after she finished her student council business.  Oh no, of course not.  She wasn’t a stalker or anything.  She didn’t always arrange her schedule on the off-chance of catching a glimpse of Jasnah.  On the other hand, it wasn’t like she hadn’t done this before.  …Starting a year and a half ago, on that school field trip to the botanical garden.  Her ill-fated third meeting with Jasnah Kholin.

 T he botanical garden had been closed to outside visitors, so that the first-year students of Sunmaker High School could have the run of the place.  Students had been put into pairs with instructions to complete a biology scavenger hunt worksheet of different insect and plant species.  Shallan’s partner Jakamav had ditched her within the first five minutes so that he could hang out with his girlfriend instead--which was just as well.  Shallan finished the school assignment in record time and then settled herself under a tree so that she could use the remaining time to sketch.

A few student council members were helping to chaperone the first-years, and Shallan had seen Jasnah go with a group into a greenhouse to observe the tropical plants.  She kept an eye on the greenhouse door, even as she pulled out her sketch pad and started a pencil drawing of a nearby Prunus serrulata tree that was absolutely covered in showy pink cherry blossoms. 

She got so caught up in the drawing that she forgot to watch the greenhouse door, or the other students, or her surroundings.  She was completely taken by surprise when her sketchbook was rudely jerked from her hands.

“What’s this?” a pretty girl with luxurious black hair held up Shallan’s sketchbook, tilting it from side to side.  Janala’s lips quirked up in a smirk.  “Oh, it’s just a stupid tree.  Should have known it would be something boring.” 

Shallan felt her face go hot.  She opened her mouth to make a sarcastic retort about Janala’s stunning powers of observation, but then Deeli snatched up her satchel from the ground and began pawing through it.  “Hey!”  Shallan sprang to her feet and tried to grab her satchel back, but Deeli tossed the satchel to Rilla, who tossed it to Danlan.  Not for the first time, Shallan cursed her lack of height.  The other girls were all taller than she was, which put her at a distinct disadvantage. “Give it back!”  

Rilla caught and hefted the satchel, wrinkling her nose.  “Ugh, this thing weighs a ton!  What’s in here, bricks?”  Before Shallan could wrest it away from her, Rilla upended the whole thing into a shallow puddle.  Books and papers and drawing implements splashed into the mud, and Shallan’s tormentors broke into peals of laughter.

Janala wasn’t finished yet.  She tore the drawing Shallan had been working on free of the sketchbook, discarding the rest of the book onto the grass at her feet.  Before Shallan could do or say anything, there was an ugly tearing sound as the sketch was ripped in half and then in half again.  Janala let the pieces flutter into the mud among Shallan’s other things.

“What is going on?” The stern voice carried a note of command that could have come from a teacher. 

Shallan had been looking right at Janala, and had the slim satisfaction of seeing a flash of genuine fear cross that pretty face.  “Nothing!” Janala said defensively, gesturing at Shallan.  “Our classmate tripped and almost fell in a mud puddle, and we were just checking to see if she was okay.”

Jasnah Kholin strode to a halt, glancing in Shallan’s direction.  Shallan immediately wondered how much of the exchange the older student had seen.  Shallan bowed her head, face flaming with embarrassment, angry words lodging in her throat.  Accusations wouldn’t do her any good.  She didn’t want to admit that she was too weak to stand up for herself--and telling on the other girls now would only open the door to future retribution.

“I can see,” Jasnah said icily as her gaze swept over Janala and her cronies, “That you don’t have enough work to keep you occupied.  If you’re done the scavenger hunt already, I’ll let one of the teachers know that you’re ready for the extra credit assignment.”

Janala quickly raised her hands.  “Oh no, there’s no need.  We’re still working on the last two questions.”

“Are you now?  Well, how fortunate for you.”  Jasnah raised a hand and caught the attention of a young man with a student council badge who was standing some distance away.  “Aladar was just about to take another group into the greenhouse.  You can join them.”

Janala opened her mouth to object.

“…Or,” Jasnah continued, “You can stay here and wait for Mr. Kelerand.  He was organizing volunteers to help clean up litter around the garden.  I’m sure all of you could use the community service hours.”

Janala’s expression contorted comically, and Shallan would have found it funny if she hadn’t been so busy being mortified about the whole situation.  Janala managed to stammer something about the importance of completing school assignments, and she and the other first-year students fled in the direction of the greenhouse.

“Are you all right?”

Numbly, Shallan nodded.  She stared down at her feet, unable to bring herself to look at Jasnah.

“I would give them detention myself if I could.”  Jasnah’s voice was tight with what sounded like anger.  “This incident will be reported.”

She’d seen, then.  That made things even worse.  “It won’t do any good,” Shallan responded miserably, her face still hot with shame.  It never did.

“It will this time.  I promise you this won’t happen again.”

Shallan nodded without really believing it, unable to speak around the tightness in her throat.  She knelt beside the puddle and began to fish her belongings out of the mud one at a time; wiping them on the grass and then rubbing at them with pieces of Kleenex from her pocket to get them clean.

To her immense surprise, Jasnah knelt on the grass beside her, not flinching or showing any reluctance to get her hands dirty as she reached out to retrieve a muddy drawing pencil.  Shallan’s face continued to burn as Jasnah worked beside her, picking items out of the mud and wiping them off with her own handkerchief.  Each cleaned item was carefully laid in a pile on the grass.  Pencils, pens, gum erasers, a canister of spray fixative to protect finished works.  A notebook fastened with elastic that had mostly survived the mud intact.  Some sheets of looseleaf paper that were beyond salvage.  A thin wallet with enough money in it to buy a meager lunch.  And… here Jasnah paused.  A battered second-hand copy of Cicero’s How to Win an Argument.

Shallan knew that Jasnah was just trying to be helpful, and yet somehow it made her feel even more mortified.  There was something deeply personal about having the contents of her satchel exposed like this.  Pieces of herself, laid bare for Jasnah’s inspection and judgement.  Shallan began to hurriedly stuff her belongings back into her satchel to get them out of sight. 

As she finished, Jasnah picked up the pieces of the muddy, dripping sketch of the cherry tree in bloom.  “This….” She sounded surprised.

The sketch was ruined.  It all became too much, and Shallan felt tears begin to gather, blurring her vision.  “It’s just garbage,” she mumbled. “It goes in the trash.” She slung her satchel over her shoulder and ducked to pick up her sketchbook.  “Thank you for your help.” 

As she hurried away, the tears that she had been holding back began to spill down her cheeks.  Why, why did things have to happen that way? It wasn’t only the fact that she had been targeted by bullies.  She’d been bullied by Janala and her friends before.  Somehow things had been made so much worse this time, however, because Jasnah had been there.  Shallan could only imagine what Jasnah must think of her now.  Someone who was weak and spineless.  An idiot, and a coward.

Shallan kept walking until she made it to the other side of the greenhouse.  Then she ducked around a tree trunk and stopped, raising her hands to her face.  Jasnah Kholin was so… so… so much of everything that Shallan was not.  So much of everything that Shallan wanted but could never, ever have.  The hot tears kept coming, splashing into her palms and falling to the ground.  Tears of shame and regret and confusion.  She just couldn’t make them stop. 

Shallan came to the realization then that she was probably in love. 

Nothing else could hurt this much. 

Shallan drew in a deep breath, taken off-guard by suddenness and the intensity of the memory.  It had been far from one of her finest moments, and she avoided thinking about the incident if she could. 

Jasnah had been right when she had told Shallan that her belongings wouldn’t be vandalized again.  Oh, Janala and her clique had continued to make snide comments and spread nasty gossip behind her back.  However, they’d never again been so openly confrontational.  Something must have happened as a consequence of the events in the garden that day--Shallan just didn’t know what.  She’d never gathered the courage to ask, and hadn’t spoken to Jasnah again since that day.

A shadow fell across the crepe myrtle image on her drawing tablet.  Surprised, Shallan squinted up at the person in silhouette who stood over her, raising a hand to shield her eyes from the light.  It was… oh.

“I heard you made the debate team last fall,” Jasnah said calmly.  “Congratulations.”

Shallan swallowed hard and looked away.  Unsure quite what to say, she settled for a careful “Thank you.”  Then she added, “The books you recommended were very helpful.”

Jasnah inclined her head in acknowledgement.  “I’ll admit that I didn’t actually expect you to read them.  But… I’m impressed that you did.”

Shallan looked back up at her again, startled.  Jasnah wasn’t looking at her, however.  Instead she was gazing down the hill towards the school, her expression unreadable.  After a moment, she seemed to come to some sort of decision.  To Shallan’s immense surprise, she proceeded to settle down beside her on the grass, heedless of her designer clothing.  No longer needing to shield her eyes from the sun’s glare, Shallan watched as Jasnah reached for the silver chain that she often wore around her neck.  She gave it a tug, and as the end of the chain cleared her collar, Shallan saw that there was a thick oval pendant dangling from it.

“I must be honest.  I never much cared for art.  It seemed frivolous, a complete waste of time.  I don’t often change my mind.  But this….” she used an elegantly manicured fingernail to pop the catch.  “Even I can see the beauty of it.”

The pendant sprang open to reveal two oval frames with paper fastened into each.  Jasnah turned the locket and held it out in the palm of her hand so that Shallan could see the contents. Both of the locket frames had tiny drawings of cherry blossoms in Shallan’s own hand.  They had been salvaged from the ruined sketch that she had drawn at the botanical garden. 

Jasnah’s gaze rose to meet Shallan’s, calm and yet strangely intense.  “You’ve given me a gift, one I’d never thought to receive.  The gift of a new perspective.”

Shallan’s mouth went very dry, and she was completely unable to look away from Jasnah’s deep violet eyes.  She had been pining after this woman ever since her first year of high school--had thought about her every single day.  She had created something that Jasnah had kept.  Not only kept, but carried with her, worn close to the heart.  Could she dare hope…?  “I… I like you, Jasnah,” she found herself saying softly, as if the words were drawn from her unwilling.  She felt heat flood her face and knew that she must be turning bright red.  Still, she kept going anyway.  “I like you a lot.  I think that’s been true ever since I first tried out for the debate team.”

Jasnah reached out then, brushed away a lock of red hair that had fallen across Shallan’s face.  She delicately wound it around her index finger, running her thumb across the bright strands.  From the expression on her face, it looked like she’d been wanting to do so for ages.  Color crept faintly over her high cheekbones.  It was the first time Shallan had ever seen her blush.  “I could say the same.” 

…Then the moment passed, and to Shallan’s great disappointment the gentle touch abruptly withdrew.  Jasnah looked away from her, raising a hand to her temple and shielding part of her face.  “I’ve always done my best to avoid getting tangled up in romantic relationships,” she said tonelessly.  “I’m bad at them.  I have scientific evidence of this fact.”

The words gave Shallan pause.  She leaned forward, wanting but not quite daring to reach out.  She said, with her heart in her throat, “Maybe you just haven’t been able to perform the right tests.”

Jasnah’s hand came down again, and to Shallan’s relief, she didn’t look upset.  Her expression was faintly quizzical and perhaps a little uncertain.  For the first time, Shallan was made keenly aware that they were only a year apart in age.  “The right tests?”

“Absolutely,” Shallan said, trying hard to sound more sure of herself than she actually felt.  “One shouldn’t make decisions based on preliminary results alone.  A scientist must be willing to change her theories if experiment disproves them.  The subject is important enough that it clearly warrants further investigation.”

That earned her a small smile.  “I concede the point.  You’ve been working on your argumentation, I see.”  There was silence as Jasnah studied her for a long moment.  Then she reached out and very deliberately laid her hand over Shallan’s atop the drawing tablet.  “You would be interested in investigating this… together?”

Shallan found her lips curving upwards in a shy smile. 

“I’d like that very much.”