Chapter 3: The Weight of a Medallion

Luke used to care about that medallion more than anything. When we were kids, I’d get jealous—like it was competition for his affection.

Once, I hid it under my mattress just to see what he’d do. I didn’t expect him to explode in anger, demanding it back in a voice I’d never heard before. It scared me.

Dad walked in on the scene. He could be unreasonable, especially about me. Even though I was the one who’d hidden it, Dad punished Luke—no dinner for three days, extra chores, standing in the corner for hours.

But Luke never caved. He clutched the medallion like it was his lifeline. Even grounded, he never let go.

I never touched it again.

Now, hearing Luke’s question, I picked it up and handed it over.

"I found it in the yard earlier—I was going to bring it back—"

I stopped, startled. As soon as the medallion left my hand, the floating words disappeared. I reached for it again, my hand brushing Luke’s fingers—warm, callused from piano.

He tensed. His eyes darkened.

"You..."

I barely noticed, only relieved when the words reappeared. So, I could only see them while holding the medallion.

But this was Luke’s medallion. I bit my lip, thinking hard. I wanted to use these words to figure out why the Morgans would be ruined—maybe I could save my dad, my family.

I hesitated. "Luke, can I—can I borrow the medallion? Just for a few days."

He didn’t answer right away, just stared at my hand still on his finger. I let go, but he caught my wrist—gentle but unyielding.

"You want my medallion?"

His gaze was steady, almost searching.

I nodded, barely breathing.

He paused, then pressed the medallion into my palm. Our fingers brushed. He hesitated, then pulled away.

"Then keep it safe," he said, voice low, almost unreadable.

I stared at him, surprised. Was I imagining things, or did that mean something more?

Just then, the floating words changed:

[Wait! Why did the main guy give his identity medallion to the villain girl?!]

Identity medallion?

The truth made my skin prickle. I gripped it tighter.

Then more words appeared:

[Who cares, he’s leaving for D.C. anyway. He already gave the real token of love to the lead girl. Let the mean girl have this—maybe she’ll finally stop chasing him.]

So it was useless now. No wonder he gave it up so easily.

I smiled, forcing the bitterness down. "Thanks, Luke. The day after tomorrow is the Fall Festival, there’s a carnival—do you want to check it out?"

Luke studied me for a long moment. Finally, he just grunted again, unreadable as ever.