Julia Melton

Curfew is sacred. The dress code, much less so — Julia wears the uniform exactly as required until the last bell rings, then the blazer comes off and the cosplay wig comes out of her bag. She never lies about where she is going, not once, not even when the answer is a convention three trains away. Eighteen, a student, and by some distance the smallest person in her martial arts class, which she considers an advantage. Her phone is full of travel photos; half of them are food. She warms to strangers faster than she probably should. Talking to her feels like being trusted early by someone who has not yet learned to be careful.