Ch 7. The Warmth Bloomed Harder
The bell shrilled through the hallway, and Lydi slipped out of chemistry with a quiet exhale, grateful to be free. Her brain still buzzed from taking notes too fast, and she hugged her books closer as she merged into the stream of students moving toward their lockers.
She didn’t expect to see Kenny leaning against the wall near hers.
He wasn’t supposed to be here — he never lingered in this hallway — and for a split second, Lydi wondered if she had accidentally walked into an alternate universe. He perked up when he saw her.
“Uh—hi,” she managed, trying not to sound surprised.
Kenny gave a quiet “hey,” lifting a hand in a small wave before shoving it awkwardly back in his pocket. His foot tapped like he was trying to look casual and failing. He clearly wasn’t waiting for someone else. He was here for her.
And that realization twisted something warm low in her stomach.
Lydi opened her locker, pretending her hands weren’t shaking even a little. “Did you, um… need something?”
Kenny shrugged in a way that wasn’t really a shrug — more like I totally had a reason but now that you’re asking me I forgot how to human.
“Nichole said you were having a rough morning,” he mumbled, words soft but understandable. “So I figured… I dunno. I’d just check on you.”
The warmth bloomed harder.
Lydi swallowed. “That’s… nice of you.”
He nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well. I mean. Yeah.”
Silence stretched, but not uncomfortable — more like neither of them wanted to break it wrong.
She closed her locker and shifted her books. Kenny glanced down at them too quickly, like he was trying to think of something to say and panicking halfway through the thought.
“Homecoming’s next month,” he blurted.
She blinked. “That’s… true.”
He winced. “Right. I didn’t— I mean, not in like… a thing way.” He gestured vaguely in the air. “Just that everyone’s talking about it already. Posters and junk. Thought it was, uh—something to mention.”
Lydi nodded slowly, heart pattering faster than the conversation deserved. “Yeah. I’ve seen the posters.”
Another beat of silence. Kenny shifted his backpack strap, like he was about to leave — but he wasn’t turning away, either.
“Anyway,” he said softly. “I’m glad you’re doing better.”
And before she could figure out how to respond without sounding like a malfunctioning robot, he stepped back, gave her a small smile barely visible under the hood, and headed down the hall.
Lydi stood there for a full five seconds, brain processing absolutely nothing.
Lydi cut across town toward Nichole’s house. The air had that crisp early-fall bite that made everything smell faintly like pine needles.
She didn’t normally walk this way, but Tolkien had texted:
Come here after school. Nichole found something ‘important."
She wasn’t expecting to pass right by the McCormick house.
And she definitely wasn’t expecting to see Kenny outside—standing in the driveway with a girl who looked about thirteen, hoodie sleeves too long and backpack half unzipped.
Lydi recognized her from years of being in a small towns, but they’d never actually officially met.
Karen was ranting about something—rapid, dramatic hand gestures included—while Kenny fought a losing battle trying to zip up her chaotic backpack. Every time he got it halfway closed, something new slipped out: a sketchbook, a pencil pouch, a squished packet of fruit gummies.
“Karen,” Kenny groaned, grabbing a runaway notebook before it hit the ground. “Why do you carry this much stuff?”
“It’s called being prepared,” Karen snapped back, though her cheeks were pink with laughter. “Also, mind your business.”
Kenny rolled his eyes but smiled—soft and completely unguarded.
Lydi slowed without meaning to.
It wasn’t the backpack struggle that got her.
It was the way he gently slung Karen’s bag onto her shoulders once he finally wrangled it closed. The way she nudged him with her elbow but stayed next to him anyway. The familiar sibling affection. The quiet warmth underneath all the chaos.
That heavy flutter in Lydi’s chest.
Kenny looked up, noticing her before Karen did.
His face lit up—surprised, then warm. “Oh—hey!”
Karen followed his gaze. “Who’s that?” she asked, not rude—just nosy in a thirteen-year-old way.
Lydi jolted out of her trance. “Um—hi. Sorry. Didn’t mean to stare.”
Karen nodded, satisfied with that explanation. “I like your boots,” she declared, like it was an official judgment.
“Oh. Thanks.” Lydi blinked, thrown off but relieved.
Kenny shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. “We were just… uh. Trying to get Karen’s life under control.”
Karen scoffed. “You wish.”
There was a small, awkward beat where all three of them just stood there, the air crisp and afternoon sunny.
Then Karen checked her phone. “I’m going inside before Mom asks me why I’m freezing out here talking to people.” She brushed past Kenny, calling over her shoulder, “Nice meeting you!”
“You too!” Lydi called back, voice a little too high.
Karen slipped inside, leaving the two of them alone for a moment.
Kenny looked at Lydi, a shy, crooked grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Didn’t expect to see you again today.”
“Me neither,” Lydi admitted.
“Not that it’s… bad or anything,” he added quickly. “Just—unexpected.”
Her heart did a full somersault.
“See you tomorrow?” he asked, scratching at the edge of his sleeve.
“Yeah,” she whispered. “Tomorrow.”
He headed inside after Karen, and the door clicked shut.
“You look dead,” Nichole said, poking at Lydi’s arm with her fork.
“I feel dead,” Lydi said. “Garrison spent the entire period ranting about how none of us know what a proper paragraph looks like. He literally called us ‘the downfall of literacy.’”
“Damn,” Tolkien said. “He’s in rare form today.”
Across from them, Bebe and Wendy squeezed into the other side of the table, followed by Heidi, Red, Clyde, Jimmy, Annie, and a couple others floating in and out. It was one of those days where everyone ended up at the same spot without coordinating it.
The second Lydi opened her sandwich, Bebe leaned in with a dramatic sigh.
“So,” Bebe said, tossing her hair. “Homecoming. It’s chaos already. Chaos. The group chat is a warzone.”
Clyde looked up mid-chew. “I didn’t even know tickets were on sale yet.”
“That’s because you never check anything,” Annie said. “They announced it twice already.”
Heidi nodded. “And a bunch of people already claimed their colors? Like… we’re doing that again, apparently.”
“Holy shit,” Nichole muttered. “You weirdos treat homecoming like the Oscars.”
“It is the Oscars,” Bebe said, dead serious.
Wendy turned to Lydi, smiling. “Are you going?”
“I mean… probably?” she said. “If I’m not drowning in rehearsals by then.”
That perked Heidi up. “Oh, right! Your showcase. When is that again?”
“Three weeks,” Lydi said. She tried to sound casual. “My teacher’s already sharpening knives. It’s fine.”
Nichole laughed. “She’s being dramatic. She’s doing great.”
“I’m stressed as hell,” Lydi corrected. “I’m behind on my turns, and I have to stay after school to practice today.”
Red shrugged sympathetically. “Girl, you’ll be good. You always pull it together.”
“Thanks,” Lydi said, though her stomach did a slow anxious flip. She didn’t feel pulled together at all.
Bebe drummed her fingers on the table. “Okay but seriously — is anyone asking anyone? Or are we doing a group thing?”
Nichole gave Lydi a look. The look. The one that silently said, You know who you wanna go with.
Tolkien snorted. “Nichole, stop staring at her like that.”
“I’m just saying,” Nichole said out loud, not subtle at all, “homecoming is next month. Lydi has options.”
Lydi kicked her under the table. “I literally don’t.”
“You do,” Nichole insisted. “You just won’t admit it.”
Bebe perked up, the gossip radar activated. “Wait— options? Who?”
Lydi nearly choked. “No one! She’s delusional.”
Wendy raised an eyebrow. “A crush?”
“I— no. Shut up. Eat your tater tots.”
Nichole grinned like a menace but, thankfully, didn’t expose her.
The table conversation shifted — Clyde complaining about gym, Heidi showing everyone dress options, Jimmy practicing a joke under his breath — but Lydi stayed quiet for a moment, focusing on peeling the label off her water bottle.
Kenny doing soft, kind shit without even trying.
It was all starting to feel… real. Too real.
Beside her, Tolkien leaned in just enough for her to hear. “For real,” he said softly, “you’re gonna be fine. About all of it.”
Lydi nodded, but she wasn’t sure if she believed him.
The practice room was quiet, the pale walls echoing her footsteps. The fluorescent lights hummed softly overhead, and sunlight slanted through the high windows, falling in rectangles across the floor.
Lydi tightened her ponytail and took a deep breath. This was her extra practice time, a few stolen minutes to focus on her variation before the showcase. She told herself to forget everything else—Kenny, yesterday, the flutter in her chest—but her thoughts kept drifting.
“Just the steps. Just the movements. Nothing else,” she muttered, pacing through the sequence in her head. Then she moved, feet brushing the floor, arms reaching.
A faint creak from the door made her pause mid-turn.
“Kenny?” Her voice barely carried across the empty room.
He stepped in, hands in his pockets, the familiar crooked grin tugging at his lips. “Hey… didn’t mean to interrupt. I was just passing by and saw the door open.”
She scrambled to pause her music, cheeks burning. “I didn’t think anyone was… still around. I was just… practicing.”
She winced at herself. Obviously she was practicing.
Kenny nodded, stepping in just slightly, enough that his shoes crossed the threshold.
He mumbled something—quiet, warm, maybe “looked good”—but she couldn’t quite catch it. His voice was soft even on a good day, and her heart was pounding too hard for her brain to function.
“What?” she asked gently.
He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes darting away. “I said it looked good,” he repeated, clearer this time.
“Oh. Thanks. I’m still trying to get the last sequence right.”
He nodded again, like he understood the stress without needing the details. Like he knew what it meant to care about something.
She stepped back to the center of the room, trying to look casual. “Were you… um… looking for someone?”
He shook his head. “Just walking home. Saw you in here.”
“Didn’t wanna interrupt.”
“You’re not interrupting,” she said too fast.
Kenny’s lips curved—barely a smile, but enough to send another wave of panic fluttering through her chest.
She swallowed. “I can… run it again. If you want. I mean—not like a show. Just… practice.”
He leaned against the doorframe, relaxing a little.
“Yeah,” he said. “I’d like that.”
She restarted the music, pretending she wasn’t dying inside. As the melody filled the empty room again, she moved—trying not to think about the boy quietly watching her from the doorway.
Trying not to wonder if he’d keep watching.
Trying not to hope he would.
Tolkien was waiting by the bike rack after school, scrolling his phone, when Kenny jogged up beside him, still a little out of breath.
“What took you so long?” Tolkien asked. “I thought you left with Karen.”
“I did,” Kenny said, pushing hair out of his eyes. “Then I… uh… forgot my binder. Had to double back.”
Tolkien didn’t look up. “Uh-huh. Sure.”
Kenny narrowed his eyes. “What?”
“You’re acting sketchy,” Tolkien said, finally glancing at him. “Like… flushed, twitchy, weird breathing. Dude, what happened?”
Kenny’s face warmed immediately. Great.
“I didn’t— nothing happened.”
“You’re lying,” Tolkien said in the most bored voice imaginable. “I’m not even trying to read you, and you look like you ran into a ghost.”
Kenny sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I went to grab the binder from the practice room and… someone was already in there.”
Kenny’s ears were red again. Fantastic. “She didn’t know I was there at first.”
“What? No! I— it wasn’t— she was… dancing.” Kenny gestured vaguely, like his hands could fill in all the missing words. “Like— actually dancing.”
Tolkien raised a brow. “And…?”
“And she was good,” Kenny muttered. “Like, really good. I didn’t want to interrupt. And then she saw me and I felt like an asshole.”
“…and that’s why you look like someone rewired your brain?”
Kenny kicked a rock across the sidewalk. “I think I freaked her out.”
“I tried. My words fell out in the wrong order.”
Tolkien snorted. “Classic.”
Kenny shoved his hands in his pockets. “She looked embarrassed. Like she didn’t want anyone to see her. I don’t know. I should probably apologize tomorrow.”
Tolkien studied him for a long second — longer than Kenny liked.
Kenny’s head snapped up. “Dude—!”
“Relax,” Tolkien said, picking up his backpack. “I’m not gonna go broadcast it on the intercom. But seriously? You’re acting like someone who likes someone.”
Kenny groaned into his hands. “I don’t know what I’m acting like.”
“Well…” Tolkien nudged him with an elbow. “Figure it out before homecoming, yeah?”
Tolkien raised a brow. “Oh, that got your attention.”
Kenny wanted the sidewalk to swallow him whole.
The last few minutes of chemistry ticked by in a low hum of scribbling pencils and half-awake sighs. Mrs. Larkin was droning about the practice test, but Lydi was barely listening. Her notes were organized. Her equations balanced with neat, sharp handwriting.
Across the room, other kids were packing up early. Someone dropped a binder. Chairs scraped.
But Lydi kept writing, calm in the middle of it, adding one more margin note she didn’t technically need.
For the first time all period, she glanced up — and caught Kenny looking at her.
He looked away instantly, shoving a textbook into his bag like it had offended him.
She felt her pulse jump but kept her expression neutral, tucking her hair behind her ear.
Everyone exploded out of their seats.
Lydi stayed put for a moment, letting the room clear, letting the rush pass. She liked the quiet right after the noise — that little breath between moments.
She finally stood, swung her bag over her shoulder—
And nearly walked straight into Kenny in the doorway.
“Oh—hey,” he said, stopping short like he hadn’t expected her to exist there.
For a second, neither of them moved. Other students brushed past in a blur of backpacks and hallway chatter, but Kenny stayed planted right in front of her—shoulders slightly hunched, hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie like he wasn’t totally sure what to do with them.
“You heading out?” he asked.
It was an obvious question. The kind people ask when they’re trying to say something else.
“Yeah,” Lydi said. She adjusted her backpack strap, suddenly hyper-aware of everything — her breath, her hair, his eyes flicking up and down like he was checking she was okay.
He nodded once, then again, like rebooting. “Cool. Uh… you did that practice test pretty fast.”
Lydi blinked. “You were watching me?”
He made a face that was not denial. “I mean—no. Not, like, watching watching. I just… noticed.”
He cleared his throat softly, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re good at this stuff.”
“You are too,” she said before she could stop herself. “I’ve seen your lab work. You’re quick.”
That seemed to catch him off guard. His eyebrows lifted, and he let out a small, embarrassed laugh. “Don’t tell anyone. I’ve got a low-stakes reputation to protect.”
She smiled — small, but real. “Your secret’s safe.”
For a moment, the hallway noise faded. They were just… standing there, facing each other like neither wanted to be the one to end the moment.
Then someone yelled Kenny’s name down the hall, and he startled just slightly.
“I, uh—should probably go,” he said, jerking his chin in the vague direction of the voice.
But he didn’t move right away. He lingered, hands still in his pockets, eyes flicking to hers for one last beat.
“I’ll… see you later?” he asked.
It came out softer than he meant it to.
Lydi nodded, trying not to let her smile give away too much.
He walked backwards a step — not looking where he was going, because he was still looking at her — then turned and jogged down the hall, hoodie bouncing, obviously flustered.
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a/n: heeeeeeeeey. been a minute. welcome back
