Jasper woke up annoyed.

There had been no dream and no pressure from the Water Titan, which meant he could not even blame anything interesting. He was simply in a bad mood.

Harper noticed before breakfast.

"You look angry at cereal."

"I'm not."

Ava looked at his bowl. "You have been stirring it for ninety seconds."

"Can you both not?"

Silence followed.

Jasper regretted the words immediately, but not enough to apologise yet.

The morning made things worse.

Two first-years asked whether the Water Titan would affect Jasper's Choosing Tide. A third wanted to know whether he could already "feel Brannor."

"I don't know," Jasper said the first time.

"Still don't know," he said the second.

"No," he said to the third.

By lunch, he felt less like a person and more like a weather station everybody had decided to question.

Harper sat opposite him and made a deliberate attempt to discuss anything else.

"Mia says the handball court line is crooked."

"It is."

"Ava says it does not affect the game."

Ava looked up. "Not enough to matter."

"It could."

Jasper knew what they were doing and appreciated it.

Then Harper asked, "You okay?"

Something in him snapped.

"Can everyone stop asking me that?"

Harper went quiet.

Jasper closed his eyes.

"Sorry."

Ava did not ask whether he meant it.

Instead she said, "Do you want space?"

"I don't know."

"Do you want us to stop asking questions for a while?"

"Yes."

"Done."

That simple answer helped more than any conversation Jasper could have had.

He spent the next hour in a quiet study room by himself. Nobody asked about Water. Nobody watched his face for signs of mysterious communication. Nobody tried to turn his silence into evidence.

Eventually he worked out what was bothering him.

He was tired of being interpreted.

If he looked out a window, somebody wondered whether he sensed the Titan. If he became quiet, people assumed he was worried. If a water-related event was coming, other students wanted predictions.

Jasper had helped create some of that. For months he had talked about the mystery constantly because he wanted answers.

He was still allowed to get tired of it.

Before afternoon snack he found Harper and Ava.

"Sorry I snapped."

Harper shrugged. "You said stop. We stopped."

"I should have said it before yelling."

Ava nodded. "Yes."

Harper elbowed her.

"What? He did."

Jasper laughed.

"I'm tired of everyone asking me about Water."

"We can tell them to stop," Harper said.

Jasper shook his head. "I think I need to say it. You can help if they ignore me."

Harper smiled. "Third no?"

"Third no."

The next student who asked about Choosing Tide received a different answer.

"I don't want to talk about Water right now."

The boy blinked. "Oh. Sorry."

Then he stopped.

No argument. No explanation.

Jasper's mood improved almost immediately.

Ava did not write anything down.

He noticed that too.

At lunch the next day, the harbour alarm rang three short pulses.

Jasper's heart jumped before he remembered the final tone was lower than a real emergency alarm.

Drill.

Not storm.

Around the dining hall, chairs scraped back and staff began giving instructions. Their assigned route had been changed since the last practice.

Ava looked automatically toward the corridor she remembered, then stopped herself and checked the current sign instead.

Harper helped a younger student free a bag strap from a chair.

Jasper left his own things where they were.

Nobody ran toward danger. Nobody needed him to sense anything.

They simply followed the plan.

Inside Assembly Hall Two, residence groups counted students. Theo arrived late from the toilets with a prefect, looking deeply offended that an emergency drill had included his bladder.

Professor Crowe addressed them when the count was complete.

"Two issues. Several students went back for belongings. Do not. One group used the route they remembered instead of today's marked route. Emergency plans are not memory tests. Follow current information."

Ava looked as though Crowe had personally spoken to her.

On the walk back to lunch, Jasper said, "You didn't use your map."

"It was old."

"Growth."

Ava glared at him.

Harper added, "Record that."

Ava did not.

The food had gone cold.

Harper declared this the only genuine emergency of the day.

By dessert, even Jasper was laughing.

The drill had mattered without becoming a disaster, which seemed increasingly important to him. Safety was not heroics. Most of the time it was noticing the sign, following the teacher and leaving your lunch behind.

Jasper liked that kind of responsibility better.