Some part of Rosalie was convinced that Joanna was exaggerating about her evening plans of beating up punching bags. Truthfully, Rosalie never touched boxing canvas before in her life, or even strayed to that section of the gym, but that evening, she found herself under the tungsten lights over rubber mats and a sandbag suspended on a chain.

    Joanna pulled wraps out of her soccer duffle, and as she wrapped them swiftly around her knuckles and between her fingers, Rosalie caught a glimpse of the red cracks along Joanna's dry knuckles. She assumed it was from the cold weather until now.

    "I'm surprised you've never hit a punching bag before. You seem like the kickboxing type," Joanna commented, looking up from her hands to where Rosalie watched from a distance, pretending to be distracted by her phone.

    Rosalie cleared her throat and shook her head with a shrug. "I don't know. I just... never really got into any other sport. I tried volleyball when I was younger but it never stuck."

    "Shucks. I bet you look good in spandex," Joanna said with a grin. Rosalie scowled at her, and it only caused Joanna's smile to widen. "Sorry. You're an easy target for flattery."

    "I can leave, you know," Rosalie said.

    Joanna tossed a roll of cloth gauze at Rosalie. She caught it and mimicked the way Joanna wrapped her own knuckles. She tore the gauze and tucked it into place on either hand before meeting Joanna at the grounded pillars resembling punching bags. They were firmer, though—more solid. Rosalie put her hands to it and pushed her weight into it, but it didn't budge.

    Joanna put a hand to her hip where the elastic band of her basketball shorts rested. "I'll show you how to use this. Just follow what I do," she said, and positioned herself at the pillar beside Rosalie.

    Rosalie wasn't expecting the forceful speed of Joanna's two fists punching into the bag one by one before doubling back. She pivoted on her right foot and came up with her left shin to kick the side of the bag with two swift strokes before dropping back for the double-punch again. She pivoted in the opposite direction, weight on her left side, to deliver two kicks with her right shin instead.

    When she landed, hair swishing in her ponytail, Rosalie had to keep from fainting. It didn't help that Joanna wasn't exactly in her usual workout gear—but perhaps this was her usual workout gear, considering this seemed to be a frequented spot of the gym for her. She stepped over to Rosalie then, straightening her shoulders, and highlighting the fact that Rosalie could see the divots in her collarbone, and the tense muscles in her abdomen beneath her sports bra.

    Rosalie turned swiftly to her own canvas pillar to keep from staring.

    Joanna pulled her fists up by the wrists and clapped her hand over Rosalie's knuckles. "Hit with the flat part of your bone here, and keep your thumbs out. Keep your wrist straight, so you twist at the elbow and shoulder."

    "Okay," Rosalie said, heat flooding to her ears.

    When she braced her fists in front of her, Joanna was pushed into the background of Rosalie's blood pumping against her eardrums. It followed the rhythm of her fists pounding into the punching bag before she ducked back and swung her shin up to the side of the bag. After repeating the system twice, she looked back at Joanna for confirmation.

    Joanna opened her mouth, but ended on a firm nod before heading to the rubber mats. Rosalie turned back to the pillar, and after releasing the tension from her shoulders with a sigh, she went back to beating the pillar up until the skin around her shins and ankles were sore and burning from the impact.

    Once she found the proper rhythm, it was difficult to stop, though. Each time she hit a little harder, watching the pillar bob with each hit before springing back for her kick. It felt a lot like a video game, or something she'd find at fair amusements. Like any game at the carnival, though, it was addicting, and it didn't take long for her to realize that she found her new favorite spot at the gym.

    After some time had passed, Joanna came to stand alongside her pillar as she finished kicking the opposite side. Joanna steadied it with a hand, and Rosalie dropped her leg down with a bounce in her step. She panted, chest hot from harsh breaths. "Try balancing on one foot and seeing how long you can kick with the other," Joanna said.

    "O-Okay," Rosalie said, eyes wide. They stared at one another for a moment before Joanna crossed her arms and looked to the floor for a moment. Rosalie heard her intake of breath—preparation to speak—and so she waited.

    "We should... do this more often. If you were serious about letting me hang around you again," she said. She looked up to meet Rosalie's eyes and say, "I didn't realize—Well, I mean, I've noticed it before, but... it's something we have in common. Working out to forget whatever's on our minds."

    "I guess I've always done it," Rosalie said. "Practice is usually enough."

    Joanna smiled, rolling her eyes. "Yeah, only because you work yourself to the bone during it."

    Rosalie laughed. She looked down at her feet, reaching a hand up to her hair as Joanna started back to her station. Rosalie glanced after her, first to her firm shoulder muscles dotted with freckles, then to Joanna's profile as she turned to face the punching bag. Joanna glanced at her from her periphery, and Rosalie took it as the cue to talk.

    "When you said... if your ex talks to you, you won't be able to say no—What did you mean by that?" she said.

    Joanna set her jaw tight. Rosalie watched as Joanna held onto her words and contemplated what to say. Initially, Rosalie had assumed it was because Joanna was still interested in her ex, but all of the evidence suggested otherwise. Joanna was terrified of this girl, and here Rosalie had thought Joanna wasn't afraid of anyone. She certainly wasn't afraid of Principle O'Gallagher, for one, if punching Jace Clemons was anything to go by.

    "We did something stupid. Back in Kaiserslautern," Joanna said at last. She brought her fists up to the canvas and gave the bag a shove. "Evidence suggests it was just me, though. She still has it."

    "What happened?" Rosalie asked, but the moment the words left her mouth, she knew it far from the scope of the conversation.

    "I don't want to talk about it. The most I can say is that it was bad, and I'm not about to let it out. So if she talks to me... she isn't above blackmail to get what she wants," she said. She slammed her fist into the punching bag, shifting her position for the next impact. She hit again and said, "Her or the rest of those military brats."

    Rosalie wanted more information, but bit her lip to keep from doing so. She pushed the thoughts down that rose up at Joanna's confession. She wondered what could be so terrible that Joanna felt guilty for it? She couldn't imagine a guilty Joanna, considering how easy it was for her to consciously thwart their last game against the Lions. That defeat would have been enough for the entire team to loathe Joanna—perhaps not for the rest of their lives, but at least through this last year the seniors had at Bradshaw.

    Rosalie hadn't considered what would have happened if she didn't manage to convince Coach to let her on the field that night against the Lions. Alyssa might not have cared so much, but the entire school would have heard about it, and therefore, it meant that everyone would be looking for Joanna at their lunch table. Rosalie figured Alyssa would be the first one to ban Joanna from their friend group on those grounds, and everyone else would use it as their excuse for letting Joanna slip away.

    She hadn't considered that when losing to Adams was on the line. She wondered if Joanna had, or if she even cared.

______

UNKNOWN: Good evening, I'm writing in response to the flyer in the neighborhood.

ROSALIE: Oh! For Khoshekh the black cat?

UNKNOWN: Yes.

ROSALIE: Do you have any information on him? Have you seen him around?

UNKNOWN: Yes.

ROSALIE: What neighborhood?

UNKNOWN: I can't give my address out to strangers.

______

    Rosalie sat on the edge of the lunch table bench as she watched Juliana hold her sandwich with one hand, and scroll through the messages with the other. Her brow furrowed, munching ceased, and turned her eyes up to Rosalie and shook her head. She passed the phone back and swallowed her food down before relaying the details.

    "My neighborhood's all posh young people. No one around there would text like that."

    "So you agree it's probably an elderly person?" Rosalie said. Juliana nodded. Her shoulders slumped and she rolled her eyes. "Well, all the elderly people in my neighborhood know me. And the neighborhood across the boulevard. And the elderly people at the synagogue know me. They'd see Rosalie Mason on the flyer and know who it was, right?"

    "Yeah. Who else did you give flyers to?" Juliana asked.

    Ray approached from behind her, hoisting her hot lunch tray over her head as she clamored over the bench and dropped down onto it. "Flyers? Did you hear anything about Khoshekh?" Ray asked.

    Beside Rosalie, Joanna was set with an elbow on the table, splitting celery sticks in two. She interjected for Rosalie, saying, "Some ancient person has information but they're too afraid of strangers to spill."

    "I can ask the folks in my neighborhood after practice," Ray said. Rosalie threw her hands up into prayer formation, eternally grateful for the effort. Ray waved her dramatics away and said, "But honestly, it's been so long. I don't think Khoshekh would've stuck that close. I mean, I'm just down the boulevard from you."

    "Yeah, but cats are small! He's probably still in, like, a five mile radius," Rosalie insisted. She looked to Juliana, who grimaced a little and went back to eating her sandwich. "Right?"

    That evening after practice, Ray's text arrived at seven, precisely an hour after Joanna parked in the Mason driveway after kickboxing with Rosalie at the gym. By that time, they had already made protein shakes and settled in for homework that was due the next morning.

    Rosalie lifted her phone up from the comforter with a frown, and it only deepened with a distressed groan. Joanna looked up from her work. "What's up?" she asked.

    She threw her phone down and put her hands in her hair, elbows to her knees. "Ray's neighbors haven't seen anything. Sami and I went to all the same places, so—"

    "Anyone else?" Joanna asked. Rosalie put her hand to her mouth and thought on it. She scowled at the polaroids over Joanna's head. She thought back to giving Juliana the flyers, and how Lennie took one. She doubted he actually put any up, but it was worth a shot.

    The following day, she split away from her table at lunch to hunt Lennie down at the boys soccer table. They were all still settling in by the time Rosalie came to stand at the head of their table, hands on her hips, waiting for Lennie Pittmen to notice her. He was unraveling his lunch bag when one of the guys elbowed him in the rib and pointed up to Rosalie.

    He looked up at her and she swore he paled. His eyes went wide and he nearly choked as he rasped out, "Rosalie. What—What're you doing over here?"

    "Did you put any signs up for Khoshekh?" she asked.

    Lennie continued to stare at her as her question processed. He shook his head and then put a hand to his face. "I mean, yes, I did. I put one up by the gates in my neighborhood."

    "Do any elderly people live in your neighborhood?" she asked, and the guys near them laughed a little. She glared at each one of them, effectively silencing them as she waited for Lennie's answer.

    He looked hesitantly at all of them before dragging his eyes back up to meet hers. "Yeah, my grandparents live down the street and there's this... older woman at the end of the cul-de-sac. Why?"

    She opened up the messages on her phone and held the screen out to Lennie. He reached for it and studied the conversation, eyebrows slowly condensing the same way Juliana's did at the sight of it. He shook his head, looking up to Rosalie with a shrug. "If that's my grandparents, they would've called my house in a panic. They don't text much—they probably would've just called you."

    "So who's this woman in your neighborhood? Do you think you could introduce me to her?" she asked, and turned her eyes to the ceiling as she heard one of the guys snort. The moment she turned her glare onto him, Lennie did the same, before they reconvened to organize a time to meet up.

    That evening, just before nightfall, Ray offered to drive her to Lennie's neighborhood in time to meet the woman at the end of the cul-de-sac. They left the school parking lot with a spare flyer in hand to hold as evidence for the occasion. Rosalie tapped her foot impatiently as they entered Lennie's neighborhood and drove up the pristine asphalt road to where his family's estate rested.

    As Ray pulled up, the both of them leaned forward to see up the column of glass windows surrounding the staircase, the same one Rosalie paraded Jace Clemons down. Ray let out a low whistle and said, "It's even more impressive in the sunlight. What do his parents do?"

    "I think his dad's a pediatric surgeon and his mom does something for the government," she said. She glanced at Ray, who shared with her an equally impressed look before they were interrupted by the back door of the car swinging open.

    Lennie dropped in and shut the door behind him. He leant over the center console and pointed forward. "You can pull around the bend here. We'll turn left at the road."

    "Good day to you too," Ray muttered as she turned the steering wheel and rolled the car forward. Rosalie snorted and shoved her in the arm.

    They drove along the stretch, discretely eyeing the estates on either side as Lennie leant back into the seat with his arms crossed. Rosalie twisted around, clearing her throat to ask, "So... who is this woman?"

    "Her name's Adelaide Helman, but she goes by Adel. She's friends with my grandma," he said. "She's kind of... eccentric. Her family's orthodox, and since she never got married and moved out early, they more or less ostracized her. She made a fortune when she was younger and is still living on it."

    "Orthodox Jew?" Rosalie asked, and Lennie nodded. She gasped, turning to Ray, who squinted at her.

    "You're the least orthodox Jew I've ever met," Ray said in a dry voice.

    Rosalie threw her hands down and said, "You've never met an orthodox Jew."

    "Ya have a bat mitzvah one year and suddenly you're—"

    "It was fun. And I mean, I haven't... really gone to the synagogue religiously since, but... you were confirmed and haven't set foot in a church since!" Rosalie said. Ray laughed sarcastically like she was about to smack Rosalie upside the head.

    Lennie stopped them at the end cul-de-sac, where one of the driveways wound through a border of tall, skinny conifers. Ray parked her car on the side of the road, and together, the three of them peered between the conifers to the brick house. Rosalie was the first to push open her door and swing her legs out. She slipped on her gloves as she kicked the door shut and started towards the driveway. She looked back to where Ray cut the engine and stepped out. Lennie was still in the backseat.

    Rosalie gestured sharply for Lennie to join them. Lennie sighed and opened the door. He stepped out with his hands in his pockets, and if it weren't for the shadows under his eyes, anyone might have assumed he was stepping on the set of a photoshoot. Rosalie felt her heart flip in preparation to fly, but she caught it before it could leap into her throat at the sight of Lennie looking at her. It was her heart's instinct to turn into a flustered mess around Lennie, and it would take more than a few months to stop it. Even after finding out what he ordered the boys team to do, she thought, and that was enough to silence the speed of her heart.

    Rosalie turned to Ray, who was just looking up from Lennie's ass from where she stood at the hood of the car. Ray bit her tongue and wiggled her eyebrows.

    Lennie followed Rosalie's eyes back to Ray, who smiled sweetly at him. "What?" he said.

    "Nothing," Rosalie said.

    "Absolutely nothing," Ray said, too cheeky to be truthful. Rosalie scowled at her, and Ray giggled, hurrying ahead with a prance in her step. "Let's go get the devil cat!"

    Lennie stepped ahead after her, offering a half-smile to Rosalie as he passed. Rosalie tugged the flaps of her coat closer, her breath coming out in a cloudy puff as she sighed and followed after them.

    They diverged down a cobble path winding up to the front patio. Rosalie unraveled the poster in her hands as Lennie reached out to the doorbell and rang it. The chime echoed through the house in a flourish of bells, and as they silenced, the door in the patio area opened to reveal the woman they were looking for.

    She stepped out, arms folded over a plaid, fluffy poncho. She held a knotted hand to her scarf, gasping, eyes wide, as she spied Lennie through the door window. He put on his fake, plastic smile. From what Rosalie knew of him, he only really smiled for authority figures, and it put him on the edge of Teacher's Pet.

    "Adel, nice to see you again," he said sweetly. She pushed the patio door out wide, and in the same motion, swept him into a half-hug.

    "Oh, you're getting so tall," she said. She clapped him on the shoulder and stepped back, eyes sweeping past him to where Rosalie waited beside Ray. Ray waved with a sweet smile that Rosalie didn't believe for one second. "Who are these girls?"

    Rosalie turned the flyer out to the woman. She bent down and squinted at it before bringing her eyes up to meet Rosalie's. "Lennie and I go to Bradshaw together. I'm looking for my cat Khoshekh and... I was wondering if you'd seen him at all?"

    She put on a smile, but it took far more focus to maintain than it was worth. The woman continued to squint at her, frozen on the spot like a goddamn gargoyle refusing passage. Lennie cleared his throat, and the woman snapped out of her trance to eye Lennie.

    "Do you have... Khoshekh, Adel?" he asked.

    She put her hands on her hips and straightened her back. Ray snorted from next to Rosalie, so Rosalie butted her in the side with her elbow. "That depends. What does this Khoshekh look like?" she asked.

    "All black except for a white spot on the forehead," Rosalie said, pointing to the photo on the flyer.

    Adel's eyes went wide, and she pushed a hand out towards the photo and said, "Ah, that's my Matok. Looks just like him, that he does."

    Rosalie startled and gasped out, "You have him? Where is he?"

    Adel gestured into the house before shuffling through, leaving the door open for them all to follow. The patio was decorated in strings of fairy lights, illuminating the front porch in a warm, orange glow that accompanied them inside in the