The clock struck midnight at Crisis High, the school grounds shrouded in a serene silence, a stark contrast to the day's turmoil. Ho, unable to sleep, wandered the dimly lit and the infrequently mopped corridors. He found himself drawn to the vending machine in the common area, craving something to ease his restless mind.
As he approached, he noticed a figure already standing there, bathed in the machine's fluorescent glow. It was Julian, in pyjamas like Ho, his presence almost ghostly in the quiet of the night. The thick tension between them was, yet neither spoke a word.
Ho's eyes fell on the vending machine, noticing only one cup noodle left. He hesitated, conflicted about breaking the silence. Julian, with a slight nod, gestured towards the machine. "Go ahead," he said gruffly, his voice barely above a whisper.
Ho, with a nod of acknowledgment, inserted his coins and retrieved the cup noodle. The machine's mechanical clunk echoed in the stillness, amplifying the surreal nature of the encounter. As he held the warm cup, Ho felt an unexpected sense of camaraderie in this shared moment of midnight hunger.
"Let's split it," Ho offered, surprising even himself. Julian raised an eyebrow, a silent question in his eyes.
"Why?" Julian asked, his tone guarded.
Ho shrugged. "Seems right. We're both here, both hungry. Doesn't have to be more than that."
Julian considered for a moment, then nodded curtly. They found a nearby bench, sitting at opposite ends. Ho opened the cup noodle, the steam rising between them, and divided the contents as best as he could onto two makeshift plates made from notebook paper.
They ate in silence, the only sounds being the slurping of noodles and the distant hum of the school's cooling system. The simplicity of the meal, shared under such unusual circumstances, created a temporary bubble away from their conflict.
As they finished, Julian leaned back, his gaze fixed on a distant point in the darkness. "This doesn't make us friends, Ho," he said, his voice firm yet devoid of its usual hostility.
Ho nodded, understanding the unspoken boundaries. "I know. But maybe it doesn't have to make us enemies either."
Julian looked at Ho, a flash of something unidentifiable in his eyes before he masked it with his usual indifference. "Don't read too much into this," he cautioned, standing up to leave.
Ho watched Julian walk away, the silence settling back around him. The shared meal at midnight hadn't changed the complex dynamics between them, but it had opened a door, however slight, to understanding the person behind the enemy façade.
***
One evening, as Ho was getting ready for supper, he inadvertently stubbed his toe against an old, uneven floorboard in his dorm. Cursing softly, he bent down to inspect the source of his pain. As he examined the floorboard, he noticed that it seemed loose, unlike the others in the room.
Curiosity piqued, Ho decided to investigate further. He reached for a tool in his room, pried open the floorboard, and revealed a hidden compartment beneath. Inside, he discovered a cache of old school magazines, yellowed with age, and a collection of faded photographs.
As he sifted through the magazines, he was transported to a different time. The magazines dated back five years, and they portrayed a very different Christchurch High. The school seemed vibrant and full of life, a stark contrast to the bleak and oppressive environment Ho had come to know.
The articles within the magazines highlighted various school activities, achievements, and the camaraderie among students. There were stories of academic excellence, sports victories, and even community service initiatives. It was a far cry from the turmoil and despair that Crisis High had become.
As he flipped through the magazines, one particular photo caught his attention. It was a picture of a much younger Julian playing soccer, who seemed genuinely happy, probably taken during his first year in junior school. The Julian in the photo was not the cold and ruthless prefect he had become; he was just a regular student with dreams and aspirations.
Ho couldn't help but wonder what had happened in those five years to transform Crisis High into the place he had come to know. The cache of magazines and the photograph of Julian served as a poignant reminder that there was more to the school's history than met the eye. It hinted at a past that had been overshadowed and needed to be uncovered.
With this newfound knowledge, Ho's determination to bring about positive change at Crisis High grew stronger. He realized that not only was he fighting for the present and future of the school but also for the restoration of its past glory.