The Midnight Test

Mara Quinn hosted the school morning show twice a week, her voice clean and bright, the kind that could slice through a groggy hallway and make the day feel less heavy. What nobody knew was that the folded note in her jeans pocket had been there since last night, crumpled and re-flattened after she and her father fought in the kitchen. If you really want out, don’t make me decide for you. Ben Quinn had written only that. By late evening the radio club was still in the room for a late equipment check. Tobin Hale crouched by the rack, long fingers working a connector loose and back into place. He was the town’s quiet kid, the one everybody assumed had been half-built out of solder and motor oil, but if any circuit sparked, he noticed first.