Sara had always been perceptive—perhaps too perceptive for her own good. In the short time since joining the journalism club, she had noticed things about Mia that others overlooked. The way Mia flinched at sudden noises in the club room, how her eyes darted anxiously toward the door every few minutes as if expecting someone to drag her away. She saw the faint bruises that peeked from under high-neck tops and long sleeves, the way Mia sat gingerly on hard chairs during meetings, and the glassy, bone-deep exhaustion in her gaze even when she forced a smile.