Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

September 9th, 2002
7:30am

Shane Hollander was nervous.

The first day of school was supposed to make him nervous, he knew that. But the first day of school in another country, where he knew next to no one, was somehow worse.

He stood outside of his family’s townhouse, wrapped in a wool coat and scarf, the autumn chill biting his cheeks. He could already feel a blush blooming from the cold, likely obscuring the freckles that were delicately splattered over his nose and cheekbones. The front door opened and closed behind him.

"Shane? Are you ready, honey?" He heard his mother ask, her footsteps coming closer as she came to stand beside him near the curb.

“Why can’t you take me? Why do I have to take the bus the first day?” He responded, moving his hands from the straps of his bookbag to the insides of his pockets. A forgotten peppermint wrapper crinkling when his fingers touched it.

His mother sighed and placed a hand on his shoulder, rubbing her thumb back and forth in a soothing motion.

It didn’t help.

“The rest of our stuff is arriving this morning. I need to make sure I’m here to supervise.”

Shane huffed.

He understood, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. It would be nice to finally have all of his things, though. He missed his books, especially the one about the dragon which had mistakenly been packed up before he could finish it. And he missed the familiar comforts of his old home, even the hideous, burnt yellow throw pillows and matching blanket his mother insisted they ship from Canada to England.

But the townhouse was partially furnished, so the things arriving weren’t even that important – they had all of the furniture they needed, why couldn’t his mom just take him to school? Why did he have to catch the bus alone? What if he was the first one on, and he had to talk to the bus driver? What if he wasn’t the first one on, and there were kids staring at him when he—

“Shane…” His mother said his name a little forcefully, understanding the spiraling thoughts in his eleven-year-old brain. Trying to coax him out of what would inevitably turn into a panic attack.

“I get it.” He replied. His mother responded with a mild hum, her thumb still moving back and forth on his shoulder. It was grounding, even though, again, it didn’t really help all that much.

Their attention was diverted when a door opened from across the street, where a row of similar townhouses sat. White brick covered in stucco, large pillars on either side of tiled steps leading up to wide, dark front doors. Some of the doors were sat beneath different country flags, others not. Behind Shane and his mother, above his front door with a brass knocker, was the Canadian flag moving in time with the wind.

Five years, Shane thought, we only have to be here five years.

Although, to his minimal understanding, the amount of time one was required to serve as the High Commissioner was the same as the prime minister’s term – which was indefinite – so the length of time they had to stay was arbitrary. It didn’t matter to Shane, though, really. Either way he had been uprooted from everything he’d known and brought somewhere new.

They arrived in London about a month ago, Shane and his mother, having flown business class from Toronto after a short domestic flight from Ottawa. His father had arrived before them. Unfortunately, the luxury of the plane cabin was completely lost on Shane.

He didn’t care about the lie-flat seats or the meal service or the movies he could watch – his mind was elsewhere. Would he make any friends? He wasn’t able to play hockey, at least not the hockey he knew. That was the first thing he’d asked his parents when they’d told him they were moving to England. So, the only way he’d really get introduced to anyone was through school, which was a problem even in Canada.

Would he even like London? He’d never lived in a city this large or densely populated before. The thought of misinterpreting accents (despite speaking English), social cues, and societal norms frightened him – especially because, as the High Commissioner’s only son, he knew he had to behave, he had to assimilate seamlessly – or at least as well as he could as a child with limited cultural experience. His father had an image to uphold, not only representing himself but Canada as a whole. This meant Shane had to be very careful, respectful, kind, thoughtful, and, most of all, quiet.

That last one wasn’t going to be a problem as Shane, who had been known by his parents to occasionally talk back or have a quick, bratty retort to something directed his way, was generally a well-behaved and subdued child. That’s what he’d heard friends of his parents say, anyway.

Anyone around his age just called him boring. Or lame. Or, on a handful of occasions, a loser. He tried to ignore that last one. Shane was more interested in perfecting the things he enjoyed or was good at – playing hockey or reading or French.

Shane knew he wasn’t like everyone else and he was at peace with that.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t terrified of being alone.

“Luca!” A shrill, accented female voice from across the street rang in his ears.

Shane and his mother both focused in on the door that had opened a minute prior, now seeing a small boy with white-blonde hair and a backpack too large for his frame standing a couple inches closer to the street than he should be.

A red flag with a white cross hung above the front door to what Shane assumed was his home.

Switzerland, Shane thought, another diplomat’s kid, I guess.

He wondered if they were going to the same school. Different years, obviously, as the kid across the street looked half his age.

The owner of the voice, the boy’s mother, Shane assumed, scrambled out the open door – she was a slight, equally blonde woman lugging a heavy leather purse. She began rambling in what Shane could only interpret from this distance to be a form of German. The little boy turned around and reached towards her, she quickly grabbed his hand and the two began walking down the street together towards a sleek black sedan.

A moment later, a white, unmarked sprinter van pulled up in front of Shane and his mother.

Shane furrowed his brows and gave his mother a questioning look.

“Is that—?”

“I think so,” she replied, finally taking her hand off his shoulder and moving it to his backpack, leading him closer to the van which had now been put into park.

A door opened and closed, a tall, thin man in a tailored black suit came around the hood of the car. The morning light reflected off his bald head as he pulled a leather bifold from his blazer pocket.

“Good morning, Mrs. Hollander,” he nodded at her and then cast his eyes down to Shane, “good morning, young Mr. Hollander.”

Shane didn’t reply, he only looked up at his mother skeptically and said, “this doesn’t look like a bus.”

The man in the suit chuckled and turned back to Shane’s mother, opening the bifold and flashing an identification card alongside a metal crest of some kind.

“Name’s Kevin,” he used his unoccupied hand to point to where his name was printed in block lettering on the card above a truly atrocious signature, a photo matching the man’s face laminated on the right side, “I’m here to take this young man to school.”

“Yuna Hollander,” Shane continued to watch as his mother greeted Kevin, extending her arm, “it’s lovely to meet you.” They shook hands briefly. “Mind if I get a closer look at that?” She pointed to the bifold.

“Not at all,” Kevin handed it to her before bringing his gaze back to Shane, “safety is my number one priority. I mean it.”

Shane was still eyeing him skeptically, though despite the bad penmanship and not-at-all-a-bus vehicle that was going to take him to school, he was inclined to believe that Kevin was indeed who he said he was. His suit fit him in a way that Shane wished his would, were he older, and his loafers had the appearance of real Italian leather with a gold horse bit across the tongue.

After more careful consideration, Shane realized that yes, this was a driver, certainly, but not a normal one. One for people like him, he supposed. Children of important people. Children of ambassadors.

Yuna handed back the bifold to Kevin and turned to Shane, seemingly pleased with what she saw there.

“Everything is going to be fine, honey,” she smoothed the hair back from his forehead and pinched his cheek lightly, “I’ll be here when you get home. And so will all of your stuff!”

That was something to look forward to, he guessed. He could finally finish that book about the dragon.

“Okay.”

“Thank you, Kevin.” Yuna nodded at the driver and began ushering Shane towards the van that was still idling by the curb.

“My pleasure, Mrs. Hollander.”

The door to the van opened to reveal an empty set of seats with unbuckled seatbelts, a strong smell of fresh mint, and the soothing sounds of a jazz song Shane had heard on the radio before.

The familiarity eased his anxiety a bit. He turned to look at his mother one more time before stepping inside.

Brown eyes that mirrored his own looked back at him – a little watery but happy – he supposed it must be weird for her to be sending him off on his own, though she’d done it before in Canada.

“I love you, Shane. I’ll see you later, okay? You’re going to have a great day.”

“Love you too,” was all he replied, he scrunched his nose up as he felt tears forming on his waterline.

Shane turned before she could say anything else, stepping into the van and selecting one of the seats behind the driver’s side, he’d heard those were the safest in the event of an accident.

He buckled himself in and placed his backpack between his feet. The temporary relief he’d felt subsided, and once Kevin closed the door behind him and moved to sit in the driver’s seat, Shane felt trapped. His mind began to wander.

What if he kidnaps me? What if that ID was fake?

There aren’t any other kids on this bus.

It’s just me.

I’m alone.

Shane’s eyes continued to water, though no tears had spilled. He lifted his right hand to pinch the eyelashes on his eyelid and brushed the pooling tears there with the knuckle of his thumb.

The van stopped idling and began to move; the jazz song faded out and was replaced by another one similarly familiar to him. He knew the tune, but not the words.

Once the van started moving properly, Shane’s eyes moved to look out the tinted windows. He’d remembered his mother saying something about it raining later in the day, she’d shoved a school issued umbrella into the right pocket of his backpack. It was orange with London International School written in black letters. But right now, the skies were only a tad overcast, no rain in sight.

Everything still looked gray, though.

“You alright back there, Mr. Hollander?” Kevin spoke from the front seat – Shane now noticed he had an accent he was unfamiliar with. British, of course, but he couldn’t place the region.

“Um… you can call me Shane, if you want,” he responded, moving his gaze from the window to the rearview mirror where he met Kevin’s eyes, “I’m doing okay.”

That was the understatement of the century. Although Kevin’s attempt at conversation was distracting him from his anxiety, Shane’s hands still felt clammy, his neck starting to sweat. He reached up, untied his wool scarf, and placed it on his lap.

“Alright then, Shane it is,” Kevin smiled from the driver’s seat, “how are you liking London so far?”

“It’s alright, I haven’t really done much. We just got here about a month ago… my dad was here before us. My mom and I came after...”

“That’s typically how it goes with these kinds of posts,” Kevin mused, “got to make sure everything is sorted before the rest of the family comes over.”

Shane nodded, “I guess so.”

Kevin gave him a small smile in the mirror before looking back at the road. A few minutes passed in silence, only the sound of the radio over the speakers drifting throughout the van. The sun began breaking through the clouds, the light passing through the tinted windows and warming the empty seat next to Shane. After ten minutes went by and they hadn’t picked anyone else up, Shane’s curiosity, and panic, got the best of him.

“Am I the only person taking the bus?” He asked, voice cracking slightly at the end.

“No sir, you were just first on the list today,” He heard Kevin shuffle some papers on the dashboard, other hand still on the wheel, “we’re heading to the United States next.”

Shane furrowed his brows, “the United States?”

“The Landry’s and the Marlow’s,” Kevin replied, “they’re a little north of you, St. John’s Wood area.”

Shane didn’t know where that was.

“Oh, okay.”

“I guess you could say I like to view my route as a kind of ‘world tour,’” a chuckle escaped the driver’s throat, “from Canada to the States to,” he peeked down at the paper on the dashboard again, “Spain, France, and…” Kevin trailed off, the van slowing down at a stoplight.

“Switzerland?” Shane offered, remembering the little boy from across the street – though it didn’t make sense for them to go back the way they came.

“Not today, unfortunately, though it’s Luca’s first day as well. The Haas’s moved in around the same time you did. I’m sure we’ll start picking him up once he’s more comfortable – the school typically likes to have the younger children brought in by their parents at first.”

Right, Shane thought, the younger children get brought in by their parents. Not eleven-year-old boys. He needed to get a grip.

“Last stop will be Russia, according to my list for today,” Kevin continued, snapping Shane back to the present as the van moved forward through the stoplight, now green, “though I’m never sure how many or how few of them I’m picking up…” He muttered the last part more to himself than to Shane.

“Oh,” Shane responded, feeling a bit more like a confidant than before, “are they normally really um…” it took him a second to think of the right word, “inconsistent?”

“You could say that” Kevin said, “the Vetrova’s girl is lovely, Svetlana, she’s the same year as you, I believe. The Rozanov’s however…” he blew a raspberry, “that’s another story.”

Shane was immediately curious.

Firstly, because Russia, similar to Canada, was well known for its hockey. He may in fact have something in common, or at least something to talk about, with someone from Russia.

Secondly, because he’d heard the name before. From the other side of the closed door to his father’s home office, from political pundits on the nighttime news, from that one animated movie about the lost Russian princess. Or was that Romanoff? Romanov?

Before he could ask a follow up question, Kevin pointed to a wide expanse of green outside his window.

“We’ll be passing Regent’s Park on our right, that’s where the zoo is. Have you been yet?”

“No, not yet.”

“Hmm,” Kevin hummed, “I think grades three through five go to the zoo in the autumn. The school tries to get each grade to go at some point in the year. Easy field trip, you know?”

Shane nodded, even though he didn’t know.

“Sure.”

He wanted to keep up the conversation, his mind kept wandering back to that name, Rozanov.

“So…” Shane started, deciding how to go about this next question without sounding unkind, “how do you know so much about everyone if you’re just…” he stopped himself, realizing that he was, indeed, about to be rude.

Kevin barked out a laugh.

“Just a ‘bus driver’?” He asked, finishing Shane’s sentence for him.

“I-I’m so sorry, I really didn’t mean it like that…” Shane felt his heart drop to his stomach, he may have just ruined the only other relationship he had in this country that wasn’t his parents.

“No worries, lad,” Kevin smiled in the rearview mirror, Shane could see the wrinkles forming on either side of his green eyes, “it’s all in the job description, as they say.”

Shane hummed in acknowledgement and let Kevin continue.

“I’ve been doing this a long time and, as I’m sure your parents would tell you, it’s important I know who is who – the children, their parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, second and third cousins…” he sighed, as if recalling something, “wouldn’t want to accidentally drop off or pick up someone not meant to be at the school, am I right?”

“Right, yeah. For sure.” Shane agreed, now feeling a tad calmer about his current situation despite accidentally insulting his only friend.

“Anyways, if it makes you feel any better, your safety truly is my top priority. That being said,” the van finally took a turn down a more residential street lined with tan bricked townhouses, “I can’t promise that you aren’t going to get a talking to from Rosie when she sees you’re in her seat.”

Shane actually smiled at that. He also found that his anxiety about being alone slightly dissipated when two others around his age, one alongside an older man and the other a young woman, emerged from inside townhouses they had just parked in front of.

Kevin unbuckled his seatbelt and hopped out of the driver’s side door. Per his instructions, Shane did in fact move seats, he also unzipped his backpack and shoved in the scarf that was sitting idly in his lap.

He heard some commotion outside – greetings, questions about activities over the summer, how the rest of their families are doing. Shane didn’t even see Kevin flash his ID badge at the parents outside, the familiarity igniting a hint of envy in his gut.

Maybe that’ll be me next year, Shane thought, maybe I’ll be known enough to have someone ask questions about how my summer was, what I’m excited for at school this year.

The thought depressed him. How sad was it that the only thing he could look forward to at the moment was the possibility his driver would be excited to see him after next summer break?

After about three minutes, the door to the van opened and revealed a boy maybe a year or two older than Shane, dark brown hair, almost black, with thick eyebrows and a disinterested gaze. Behind him stood a smaller girl with auburn hair and hazel eyes, pale skin, and a bright teal backpack.

That must be Rosie , Shane thought.

She was smiling widely behind the other boy, who stepped fully into the van and moved so he could sit one row from the back, quickly pulling a set of headphones and a CD player from his backpack. He didn’t look unfriendly, per se, but bored and maybe a little tired. In contrast, Rosie, or at least Shane thought it was Rosie, looked kind and bubbly, despite Kevin’s warning about sitting in her spot. Shane supposes he would be upset too if someone had taken a seat known to be his.

He averted his gaze as she sat down in her seat. When the girl let out a small hum of amusement, moving her hands to feel the cushion beneath her, Shane made the mistake of looking her way.

“Were you sitting in my seat?”

Shane’s face heated immediately.

“Y-yes, sorry.”

She giggled in response and turned so she was facing him. Kevin had gotten back into the driver’s seat and was already pulling away from the curb, on to the next pickup.

“I gave him a little warning, Rosie, so be nice.” He said from the front.

“I am being nice! I was about to introduce myself.” She huffed, placing her backpack on the ground and then extending her hand across the aisle to Shane.

“My name is Rose, but Kevin calls me Rosie. You can call me either, if you want!” They shook hands.

“I can call you ‘either’?” Shane chirped, not realizing he’d just made a joke until Rose’s eyes lit up and a musical laugh escaped her mouth.

“Okay, that was funny,” she smiled, “I like you, um…”

“Shane,” he offered, “Shane Hollander.”

“I like you, Shane Hollander. We’re going to be friends.”

~

The next round of stops occurred without incident. Shane and Rose made idle chit chat, though it was mostly Rose telling him all about the teachers, the classes, how this year was the first year they get to choose what language they wanted to study. Rose wanted to study French, but said her parents wanted her to choose a more difficult language with a separate alphabet like Japanese or Russian. Shane wasn’t sure which language he’d pick – French would be the easiest, as he already spoke it, but that wouldn’t be challenging or fun. Kevin suggested they both take German because when they’re older, they’d go on the overnight trip to something called Oktoberfest.

That didn’t interest Shane as much, but it was pleasant imagining a time when he’d have a group of friends excited about going on an overnight trip somewhere new.

The other boy they picked up with Rose – Cliff Marlow – was still silent in the back, music blaring through his headphones loud enough that Shane could tell when the track changed. They must not have picked up any of his friends yet. Rose wasn’t really talkative to the other students that had boarded the van either – Shane wondered if it was because she was trying to make sure he was comfortable, and he was grateful for that.

There were only a handful of seats left, maybe six or seven, as they’d picked up at least five other students after Rose and Cliff. The seat next to Shane remained empty, as did the one next to Rose. After what felt like ages, though it wasn’t, they pulled up in front of a row of townhouses more extravagant than Shane’s own. They had the same exterior, a stark white contrasting with the dark wooden front door, though the actual size of the home was twice that of Shane’s.

A flag with three stripes, white, blue, and red, hung above the front door, answering the internal question Shane was about to ask – is this the last stop?

On the sidewalk in front of the home stood a slender girl with tan skin and bouncy dirty blonde curls, next to her a boy with a black toque on his head. His face was turned downwards towards his feet, but Shane noticed a mole on his left cheek.

“Hmph, guess its only two today.” Kevin said to himself, putting the van into park.

What surprised Shane wasn’t that there were only two of them, he wasn’t sure how many were normally picked up, it was that these kids looked his age and there weren’t any parents waiting with them. The two of them were just… alone.

And since there weren’t any parents or caretakers to greet and share pleasantries with, Kevin simply pushed a button on his dashboard which opened the automatic sliding door to the van.

As if on cue, when the young girl stepped in, Cliff piped up from the back of the bus like he’d been waiting for ages.

“Sveta!” He yelled over the heads of the students sitting in front of him, “Get over here!”

The curly-haired girl – Sveta, a nickname for Svetlana, Shane guessed, remembering Kevin mentioning her earlier – rolled her eyes and sat down on the other side of Rose.

“I saw you yesterday, Cliff, I haven’t seen Rose all summer!” She shot back. Her voice carried an accent Shane didn’t recognize. He guessed it was Russian.

She began chatting quietly with Rose, though Shane barely registered it. He was distracted by the other boy who stepped in after her, finally looking up to scan the passengers. Shane caught a glimpse of bright, blue green eyes under dark blonde brows. The boy took off his hat and shoved it in his coat pocket, a mess of curls escaped. Then he moved close enough to Shane that he caught the faint smell of shampoo, like he’d had just showered.

Kevin hit the button for the passenger side door again and it shut automatically.

“Take a seat, please, Ilya.” He instructed, and the boy nodded before moving towards the back of the van.

Shane couldn’t stop staring. Why couldn’t he stop staring?

Ilya had on a dark wool coat similar to his own, though a bit more…European, Shane thought. He looked like he belonged here, like he fit in. His backpack strap rested on only one shoulder, the bag itself had one of the side pockets open – Shane spied a pack of breath mints. They were strawberry flavored.

As if he could feel eyes on him, Ilya turned his head to look at Shane. They only made eye contact for a moment, but it felt like an eternity. Ilya’s eyes bounced from Shane’s own to the rest of his face, as if noticing something there. He then furrowed his eyebrows and looked away, his gaze moving back towards the back of the van, where Cliff spoke again.

“Rozy! Get the fuck over here!”

“Watch your language, Cliff, or I’m not moving this van.” Kevin half-heartedly warned.

A laugh escaped Ilya’s throat, and he looked back towards the front.

“Would not be so bad, would it?” He spoke with a heavy accent similar to Svetlana’s. The tone of his voice was more playful, though – light.

“Sit down, Ilya.”

Ilya smirked and lifted his hands in surrender, turning back around to go and sit next to Cliff.

Shane finally moved his attention back to the front. He had stayed quiet the whole time, his head filled with even more questions.

Kevin pulled the van away from the curb and began driving again, now that everyone had sat down. Ilya and Cliff fell into an animated conversation Shane couldn’t quite follow, while Rose and Svetlana were similarly occupied across the aisle.

Oddly enough, Shane didn’t feel nervous anymore. He felt a bit outnumbered, perhaps, maybe a little overwhelmed. But not nervous.

The rest of the journey passed smoothly. Shane remained silent, listening to everyone else’s conversations, until they passed Regents Park again. He hadn’t realized until now they were going back the way they came. His brows came together in curiosity as he looked out the window, and Kevin chuckled from the front seat.

“Look familiar?” He asked.

“Yeah,” Shane responded, his voice a tad hoarse from lack of use.

“My route changes every day – I’ll always pick you up, only the order is different.”

His curiosity got the better of him, even though he didn’t want to be seen as a loser who only talked to the driver.

“Why is that?”

“Safety, mostly. Actually, safety is sort of the only reason. No need to worry, young Shane.”

“Changing the route makes sure no one can follow us or know where we’re headed every day.” Rose chimed in from next to him.

“Oh,” Shane considered, “that makes sense.”

The conversation ended there. About three minutes later, the van slowed as they approached a tall iron gate. Two uniformed men stood on either side, one of them waved Kevin on as he spoke into a hidden earpiece.

When the van pulled to a stop, Kevin got out and opened the door for them. Rose and Svetlana got off first, Shane followed a few steps behind. Kevin pulled him aside briefly before he could get any further.

“You’ll come right back here at the end of the day and I’ll be waiting, sound good?” Shane nodded, he wanted to be grateful for this information but was acutely aware that this only solidified his ‘new kid’ status.

“Thanks.” He responded.

Kevin patted his shoulder and then waved him on.

Rose and Svetlana hadn’t gotten far. Shane quickened his pace just enough to keep them in his line of sight. Their arms were linked, so he stayed back enough as to not intrude, but close enough to know where he was supposed to go.

He followed them until they were inside a reception area. It was more modern than he anticipated when his parents said he’d be going to a private school in England, the walls were an off-white, supplemented with glass panes that looked into administrative offices on one side and a large meeting room on the other. There was a desk in the middle of the room with two security gates on either side, blocking entrance to the rest of the building.

It wasn’t chaotic, necessarily, but Shane had no idea where he was supposed to go until he saw Rose’s teal backpack disappear behind the gates, Svetlana following behind her. Luckily for Shane, Rose turned around and caught his gaze. She smiled and waved him on.

“Just tell them your name!” She yelled, pointing to the officer sitting at the desk, “we’ll wait for you!”

Shane smiled his first genuine smile, nodding in response and walking towards the gate behind a few other students that he didn’t recognize.

When he reached the front, the officer asked him his name. He replied and was told that he’d need to go to the security office later that day to get an identification card made. The officer let him know his teacher would coordinate that for him.

Once through, he waved at Rose and Svetlana and made his way to where they were standing.

“Shane, this is Svetlana,” Rose motioned to the Russian girl, “Svetlana, this is Shane! He’s new. He’s from…” She trailed off, awaiting a response.

“Canada,” Shane answered, extending his hand, “it’s nice to meet you.”

Svetlana took his hand, hers felt small in comparison. They shook briefly before Rose shepherded them towards wherever they were meant to go.

“Nice to meet you too, you can call me Sveta, if you want. Svetlana is so many syllables.” She giggled.

“Yes, you’re right,” he made a noise that could be considered a chuckle, “Sveta it is, then.”

She nodded at him and they continued to walk with Rose. Eventually they reached a sunken, circular room buzzing with energy. There were a few adults milling about, but their little group was the first set of kids there. A few sofas were spread about the room alongside lunch tables, chairs, and short shelves overflowing with books. All in all, it looked a little haphazard but cozy. This must be a recreational or common area, not a classroom.

On the opposite side of the room from where they entered was a large whiteboard stuck to the wall with the words “Welcome Grade Five!” in bright orange, bubbled letters. Glass doors sat on either side of the whiteboard, signs hung in the middle with the name of a teacher written in black pen. Shane couldn’t make out the names from where he was standing, but he figured he’d find out eventually.

The group found a sofa to sit on, and Shane made small talk with Rose and Sveta as more students filed in. Only about twenty or so, if Shane guessed.

Ilya walked in alone, Sveta immediately catching his attention. He nodded at her, eyes flicking to Shane’s briefly before turning away. Shane felt his stomach churn. He wasn’t sure why.

“I’ll see you at lunch, okay?” Sveta stood up and picked up her backpack, which had been discarded on the floor in front of them.

“Welcome to LIS, Shane!” She called over her shoulder before leaving him on the sofa with Rose.

Before Shane could say anything in response, he caught Ilya’s gaze again.

This time, Ilya just stared.