Car doors slammed in the parking lot. Freshmen scrambled past with schedules clutched to their chests. Seniors leaned against the bike racks like they owned the place—because they did.

And there, at the center of it all, stood Edmund Pevensie.

He was leaning against the wall by the main entrance, jersey already stretched across his shoulders, arms crossed like he was waiting for something boring to end. A few guys from the football team lingered nearby, laughing too loud at nothing.

Athena Jones didn't even slow down.

The guys next to Edmund exchanged glances. One of them snorted.

Edmund's eyes followed her longer than they should have.