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Sand stared off into the obstacle course, eyes fixed on one of the several mechanical components the organizer had set up. The machine had a rhythmic, distracting movement that reminded her of the swing of a pendulum.

A stout man trying to squeeze through the seats broke her reverie, and she glanced to the side to see Allen sit down beside her with a plate filled with assorted foodstuffs. His hand fell on her arm, and she paused, suddenly startled. She had been trailing the irregular path of an old scar on the palm of her right hand without noticing. Sand clasped her hands instead, looking at the pale hand that rested against her darker skin. A few years ago, the sight might have made her melancholic, but now she simply appreciated the contrast with a curious look. Allen gave her a soft pat and withdrew his hand.

They had reached Beacon’s outdoors Athletic center only a few minutes ago, the pair leaning their heads close to each other to trade a year’s worth of accumulated barbs. She had pulled him away from the rest of the group then, leaving Trad, Sepia and their families behind as the speaker’s announced the beginning of the race. Truth be told, Sand wanted to keep Allen to herself. At least until he turned unbearable.

“What about betting on who wins the race?” This from the man sitting close to her.

“We don’t even know who’s running,” Sand commented. Students still hadn’t lined up at the starting line, despite the initial call from the speakers. She suspected they were allowing a few extra minutes for late participants.

“You don’t need to know who’s running to bet on who wins.” Allen gave her a look that said she had failed to understand something obvious. “I could bet on your green friend. Or that Sepia girl.”

If they were even allowed to join the race at this stage. “You’re shooting for long odds,” she drawled.

“I could bet on you winning.”

“I wouldn’t say no to free money.”

Allen leaned forward, hand on chin and elbow propped up on his leg. “You’re really not running, then?”

[i]What tipped you off?[/i] was the biting reply that came to mind, but she swallowed the words. Instead, she gave the gathering crowd a cursory inspection and grimaced. She was not particularly intent on putting on a show if she could avoid it. There were other reasons that came to mind. More prominent ones, at that, but she dared not bring them up with Allen next to her. 

The man seemed to guess at the surface of her thoughts and laughed. “Don’t tell me you’re embarrassed? And here I thought your time at Atlas might make you more outgoing.”

Sand glanced away, exasperated. She couldn’t help but flush guiltily if he of all people pointed it out so readily. Still, her tone came out neutral. “I’d rather not work during a holiday.”

“Hah. If this is work to you, I should rest easy!” Allen laughed good-naturedly, patting her back.

Sand shook under the weight of his arm and faked the half-smile she knew he’d expect of her, but the mirth did not quite reach her eyes. He had just admitted that she worried him, after all, and that was the larger reason for her reluctance.