Outside, the sun filters through dusty windowpanes and casts faint stripes across our desk. The clock ticks on as the hum of scattered conversation drifts through the classroom like a breeze, low enough not to draw attention but persistent enough to become white noise. The teacher's voice is somewhere in the mix, muffled beneath the layers of chatter and shuffling paper.
I lean over my notebook, scribbling down notes.
Beside me, Taylor is attempting to balance a pencil horizontally across her upper lip, looking absurdly focused for someone conducting a deeply unserious task. Her brows furrow with intensity. The pencil wobbles dangerously before she steadies it with concentration.
When she catches my eye, she grins without moving her mouth.
I shake my head, smothering a laugh.
ADHD...
The moment the bell rings, everyone seems to breathe a sigh of relief. With an intermingled sound of chatter, they all flock out of the classroom.
Taylor jumps out of her seat.
I watch her in amusement, unfazed by the fact that she's excited about recess. After packing my bag, I push my chair back. When I realise she forgot to take her bag with her again, my head shakes from side to side.
"Taylor," I call her back.
She turns around and stares at me impatiently.
I hold her bag up at eye level.
After blinking her eyes shut tightly in realisation, she drags her feet over towards me with her back hunched over in faux exhaustion. Then she reaches out to take it from me, but before she does, her hand suddenly pauses midway.
"You know what?" she muses thoughtfully and when I don't answer, she says, "You can hold that for me."
"No," I immediately disagree.
She's already walking out of the classroom.
I press my lips together in irritation and my eyes roll upwards as I follow after her.
Once caught up with her, I say, "I'm not your boyfriend, you know? You cannot just make me carry shit for you."
She looks over at her bag which I disdainfully hug against my chest and dismissively waves her hand. "Nah, you got it."
Glaringly, I stare at her.
"So I have a free period after recess because Miss Gonzalez had to dip early today. You should have taken Social Science, Seong Jin. We could've spent this time gossiping. I need to tell you about my date."
"Ah yes, Taylor." I give her a slow, exaggerated nod. "Because nothing sounds more thrilling than forty five minutes of listening to you... blabber."
She gasps like I have slapped her with a glove. "Excuse you, my blabber is insightful."
"It's endless monologuing about Edward," I counter, deadpan.
She narrows her eyes, all fire and offence. "Okay, you love when I monologue about Eddie. Remember when you got emotional after I told you how he opened up about his mum?"
"I've told you a million times, I was unironically tearing up because of the onions I was cutting," I snap irritably. "I was making stir fry when you dumped that story on me."
"Boys are allowed to cry too, Seong Jin."
"For your information, I already knew how his mother passed. He told me first."
Taylor pauses before shrugging with dramatic flair. "So what? It probably sounded way better when I told it."
I groan defeatedly because arguing with Taylor is like swimming through glitter.
"By the way, can you pick up the pace?" she mused, tugging at my arm. "The queue actually gets quite long after a few minutes."
With a snide sneer, I tell her that I might be able to pick up the pace if I were not carrying a certain someone's belongings.
I don't usually get food from school because I prefer something homemade, where I know the person handling my food washed their hands before preparing everything. This morning though, Franklin took it upon himself to leave earlier without even making anything for me.
Now I'm stuck eating from the canteen.
Taylor insisted on it; even said she had been counting this day down on her calendar. That would make it four and a half calendars at most. I just think that's going a bit overboard, but I can't put anything past my childhood best friend.
Taylor and I either met in preschool or reception school.
I was sitting with my legs crossed near the edge of the playground under a patchy tree, the grass slightly damp beneath me, nose buried in a book far too big for my age. Its pages were dog eared from too many rereads. The words on the page made more sense to me than words that spilled out of other kids' mouths. English still felt foreign.
Then she showed up.
Taylor plopped down beside me without warning, legs outstretched like she had known me forever. No hello, no introduction. Just a packet of crisps in her lap and a pencil tucked behind her ear.
"You like books?" she asked.
I blinked at her, startled, fingers curling around my novel.
I sort of understood the question but didn't know what to say so I just nodded.
She grinned. "Cool. I hate reading. Too many words."
For days after that, she kept showing up. At lunch. During art. I mostly nodded and listened. Spoke in fragments. Smiled when it felt safe. She made enough noise for both of us, telling stories about her dog that loved eating cheese.
Bit by bit, I started speaking up. At first it was little words. Then longer ones. Until one day, without warning, I was correcting her grammar.
And just like that, it was the beginning of us.
Taylor is gorgeous, known for the mischievous look always brewing in her date brown eyes. Her boyfriend, who also happens to be living in the house across the street from me, always says those are her best physical features. I personally think it might be her tits but to each their own.
She's always up to no good and I have an inkling it might be because the headmistress is first of all, her mother and secondly, always putting a lot of pressure on her to be the exemplary student that everyone should strive to become.
It tempts her to be rebellious.
Before Edward started dating my best friend, he and I used to always hang out on my front veranda, me on the hammock swinging side to side and him staring out into the night sky. I remember we used to talk about anything and everything and it felt like I had finally found someone I could genuinely be open with about myself.
Other nights, he and I would be up until stupid hours revising for exams. I would chuck him a question that he could assist me with, knowing full well he would botch the answer. Then I'd smile, nod, and pretend like he was bang on.
Truth is, I didn't need the help—I was just looking for any excuse to be around him.
Now, I hardly ever see him unless it's at school.
Once we have both paid for our lunch, we head over to a random table that is normally not occupied by a group of people. I'm surprised Damien isn't here yet. When we're at English, he usually bolts to the canteen the minute the bell announces recess, leaving me behind.
Taylor begins her jubilant recount of the fun she and Edward had on their date in between bites. He took her through the typical date. Dinner and then a nice movie. When I ask her about the movie, she admits that she wasn't actually paying attention; she just remembers it being a pretty good watch.
She has the attention span of a child.
"I'd watch it again though," she adds quickly. "Wanna go and see a movie with me?"
I gasp sarcastically before pretending to tear up at her request. "Taylor, are you asking me out on a date?"
"See?" she says in a banal tone, scowling at me disapprovingly. "This is why we don't get to do nice things. You're such a weirdo."
I chuckle in amusement and in response to her previous question, I say regrettably, "I can't go out to watch a movie with you anyway."
"Because of your mum," she muses knowingly.
I nod.
I need to always be home at a specific time every day. It's my final year in secondary school so my mum has enforced a strict schedule for me to study and whatnot.
It gets a bit tedious at times, not being able to hang out with my friends during our last year together, but I also don't mind because if it increases the guarantee of me getting accepted into one of the universities I applied to, then I'll just have to endure it.
"Anyway, what did you get up to last night?" she asks, more out of courtesy than curiosity.
"Not much. Homework, a bit of reading... finished the series I was bingeing."
Her eyes narrow with that all too familiar smirk. "Let me guess, another soppy romantic drama? Please tell me you've branched out."
I purse my lips at her judgement. "I don't know what you're on about. Bridgerton fucking slaps. End of story."
She shakes her head, disappointment practically radiating from her. "You're so predictable, Seong Jin."
She returns to politely nibbling her lasagne, while I shoot a glare at her from beneath my lashes. Fortunately, she does not see the petulant look that occupies my expression. Predictable?
What's that supposed to mean?
I'm not predictable.
Am I?
Just to prove a point, I decide to blurt out, "I ran Dominic over with my car this morning."
Then I have lasagne on my face.
I sit frozen, blinking slowly, mouth hanging open in disbelief as sauce drips from my cheek.
Did she just spit lasagne on me?
I look at her with a glare playing around the edge of my eye.
She immediately starts apologising profusely and hurriedly grabs some serviettes from her tray. When she holds them out to me, I rip them out of her grasp irritably and begin to wipe my face, doing nothing to hide my irritable expression.
A stray student walking past us glances at me through the corner of her eye before chuckling to herself.
I narrow my eyes at her retreating back whilst rubbing the serviette around my face.
"I'm sorry," she says, voice wobbling with guilt. "It's just... you caught me off guard."
"How?" I huff, slamming my crumpled serviette onto the table before sarcastically adding, "Thought I was predictable."
"Well clearly not, considering you just ran someone over. Without any remorse, might I add." Leaning over, she wipes something I must have missed off my eyebrow with an oddly tender gesture.
"It's fine."
Once back in her seat, her eyes gleam with curiosity. "So... is he alive?"
I blink, a little too hard. "What kind of question is that?"
"I'm just asking."
"You think I'd be sitting here munching lasagne with you if he wound up dead?" I ask with a flat look. "His family has enough power to land me in juvie with zero trial."
She hums thoughtfully before muttering under her breath, "Not unless you hid the body."
"What?"
She perks up like she just got invited to a murder mystery party. "Want me to teach you how to hide one?"
The sheer excitement in her eyes makes me inch away from the table worriedly.
"Uh no, I don't think so." I blink at her, slowly and pointedly. "You see, this is why I stick to my romantic series. I would rather cry over fictional breakups than turn into whatever breed of psychopath you are."
"Watching grotesque films does not breed psychopaths, Seong Jin," she says airily. "Have I taught you nothing, my little halfling?"
"Stop calling me that."
"Also there is no one like me, mate."
"And thank God for that." Jokingly, I mutter, "You're one bad haircut away from fullblown Dahmer."
She reaches across the table and flicks me on the forehead.
"By the way," she starts once seated again, "is he in the hospital?"
"Dominic?" I ask, brows raised.
She nods.
"Nah, it was only a love tap, nothing too serious. His knee took a hit but he insisted he was fine."
A proud little grin creeps onto her face. "Good on you, Seong Jin."
I blink. "Sorry, what?"
"I didn't know you had it in you."
"Had it in me to... be unpredictable?"
"I mean, kind of," she says after tilting her head thoughtfully. "But I meant running over the guy who rejected you in year eight. Very petty. Very me. I'm kind of proud."
I stare at her, equal parts horrified and fascinated.
"Just saying, if it was revenge, it was tasteful."
My eyes widen, horrified.
She thinks I ran him over on purpose...
Why am I not as surprised as I should be?
"So, who's next?" she muses while rubbing her palms in excitement. "I vote Michael."
"You know, Taylor, sometimes I really worry about you."
"Sometimes I really worry about me too. I guess that's what makes us such good friends. We both care about my wellbeing."
Unable to refrain, I roll my eyes slightly while shaking my head.
"So after your failed attempt at vehicular manslaughter," she says, deadpan, "what did he do? Just dust himself off and stroll away like it was nothing?"
I nod, letting out a casual hum. "Gave him a lift to school."
She squints at me. "Wait... in your car?"
"Nope. On my bike."
Her mouth drops. "Mate, I would have expected him to bludgeon you with a toy lightsabre out of spite."
I blink at her. "Why would he be carrying a toy lightsabre in the first place?"
She shrugs, unbothered.
"And how do you murder someone with that?"
"It's a whole intricate process. I don't wanna go too into detail about it, just in case I end up on a watch list or something. I can't have the feds monitoring my activity."
Honestly, if she isn't already on a watch list, I would be genuinely surprised.
As she casually spears another bite of food with her fork, she points it at me with the utensil. "Besides, you never know what the quiet ones are into."
"You can't say that," I say. "I'm part of the quiet ones."
"You? Quiet?" She snorts, nearly choking on her lasagne. "You are proper loud in those weird clothes."
"Excuse me, this is expression." I scoff, offended on behalf of my carefully curated fashion sense. "It's called having style, something your beige hoodie knows nothing about."
"Mate, you showed up last Tuesday wearing three patterns and a bucket hat with a frog on it."
"You know what, Pepe had personality."
She gags.
"At least I don't dress like I'm permanently queued for the general practitioner."
She flicks a pea at me with deadly aim. "My hoodies are fucking iconic."
"They belong in a museum, Taylor."
Her eyes roll in exasperation, but her grin betrays her fondness. "At least they radiate less stalker energy unlike Dominic with his dark hoodies," she snarks, spearing another forkful of lasagne with menace.
"Taylor," I hiss under my breath, glancing around instinctively as if Dominic might materialise from behind a plant in the canteen, "you've got to stop calling him that."
"What, a stalker?"
"Yes."
"Why?" She arches a perfectly unimpressed brow. "Does he not remind you of the guy from that show about the stalker?"
I groan, dragging a palm down my face.
She leans in, eyes gleaming with chaotic glee. "He wears the exact same black baseball cap. You know the one."
I sit back in my chair, arms crossed. "A lot of people wear black caps. You have to stop going around equating him with a literal fictional murderer."
Taylor squints at me. "You telling me Dominic isn't at least a little suspicious lurking around with that deadpan expression and that general sad boy vibe?"
"I think he's just a little... introverted," I offer, already regretting the defence.
"No, he definitely radiates 'I own a secret basement in my bookstore and several locked journals'."
"You're insane."
"And you're in denial," she says. "The similarities are uncanny."
"What similarities?"
"Like... they both wear black caps."
I await her next reason, but she doesn't seem to have anything more to add to prove her thesis. "I'm letting you finish."
"What do you mean you're letting me finish? That's it. They both wear caps."
"Okay, now I see why you flunked English because you understand nothing about proving your thesis."
"Neek," she coughs behind her hand.
I narrow my eyes at her.
"Maybe you will only take me seriously once he sneaks into your room and steals your used tampons."
A chuckle escapes past my lips, and I press my palm against my mouth to reduce the amplitude of the noise. Fortunately, I have no food in my mouth otherwise the same fate that befell me would have befallen her.
She watches me earnestly which just makes her comment even funnier, so I burst out into a loud guffaw that sends my body racking. Luckily, the ruckus in the canteen drowns out the noise.
Taylor merely waits for me to finish laughing with a flat expression. "Yeah, you laugh now."
A smile still kissing my lips, I murmur a noise of sarcastic agreement.
"I mean, have you even stopped to ask yourself what he was doing in your neighbourhood?"
"Yes, and he said he was visiting some friends of his."
"He has friends?" she hisses loudly, eyes widening in shock.
I almost smile at how similarly we both reacted to that information.
When she asks me who these supposed friends are, I just shrug instead of correcting the statement by telling her that it was actually his parents' friends and not his.
"Maybe he was in your neighbourhood to spy on someone he's currently stalking."
"Okay, this conversation should have just ended after I told you I ran Dominic over this morning. Now you're just sounding like a conspiratorial nut with all this talk about stalkers and used tampons."
"Hey, can't help that I get carried away sometimes," she says, raising her hands up in nonchalant surrender.
"Carried away is an understatement," I say. "Have you taken your Adderall today?"
"I have not." She waves her hand dismissively. "All I'm saying is there are a lot of weird people out there and Dominic might be one of those people. So as a fellow certified weirdo yourself, you need to be alert."
I hum noncommittally, watching her as if she's assembling a conspiracy board with string and blurry photos.
"Think about it." She leans in, eyes gleaming. "Why do you reckon he rejected you in year eight? He probably has to hide the fact that he's actually gay and likes to subtly stalk his future prey."
"Right, he rejected me, because he's actually gay," I say sarcastically.
"No, he rejected you because he doesn't like you," she says with a casual shrug, as if commenting on the weather and not stomping all over my ego in spiked boots.
"That was below the belt," I mutter, stabbing my juicebox like it owes me emotional damages. I slurp dramatically while narrowing my gaze at her venomously. "Seriously, cunt behaviour from you."
"I don't think calling my girlfriend a cunt will keep you in my good books, Seong Jin."
I freeze in my seat and for a split second, forgetting how to breathe. Oxygen freezes into a ball of nerves in my throat, but then I almost choke on my drink so I gulp and immediately will my lungs to function properly because this shitty body isn't immortal and needs to breathe.
A tiny cough leaves me and when Edward worriedly pats me on my back, I glance up at him and wave him off.
"Hey, baby," Edward says and leans in to kiss Taylor on the cheek who begins to beam at the sight of her boyfriend and, apparently, soulmate.
Taking a seat beside her, he sends me the usual friendly wink and I stretch a stiff smile his way.
"So, what's the happs?"
The moment the words leave his mouth, I blink and I sit there, suspended in disbelief. "Did you just unironically say 'what's the happs'?"
"It's my new thing," he insists, chin raised in bold defiance. "Deal with it."
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Taylor opening her mouth to tell him what we have been discussing.
I shoot her a look.
If I had laser vision, her fringe would be crisped.
She ignores my glare and says gravely, "Seong Jin and I just realised Dominic might actually be closeted and using his neighbourhood as a hunting ground to gather used tampons," causing me to roll my eyes.
"What?" Edward muses, knitting his eyebrows together in confusion. He shakes his head and leans his head on her shoulder, getting comfortable. "You know what, I shouldn't have asked. I swear, the two of you have the weirdest conversations."
"Dominic is not gay."
"You just don't want your crush to actually be for Cheetos. You're hoping he rejected you only because he's into Doritos."
"What?" Edward looks even more confused. "Who the hell is Dominic?"
"Seong Jin's crush."
"Old crush, Taylor," I quickly correct the record. "I don't like Dominic anymore. He's too closed off for my liking."
She nods, but her unimpressed stare scream skepticism.
"Also, might I add, he's really rude. Like before, when he was ignoring me, I just thought he was just chronically shy, but he was probably ignoring me because of how inconsiderate of people he is. Lowkey kind of racist too."
"How so?" Edward asks, hilarity glowing in his gaze, and I immediately know that I'm not being taken seriously.
"He made this comment about me needing to open my eyes while driving."
"No, I think he meant to open your eyes while driving so you don't run people over, Seong Jin," Taylor states, chuckling in amusement. "You just misinterpreted it as a racist comment."
"I mean, who's to say which one of our conclusions is more probable than the other?" I ask with a playful grin twitching on my lips.
Edward looks at us, thoroughly entertained.
Subconsciously I begin to pack my food into my bag, taking another sip of my juice.
After standing up from my chair, I say, "Either way, my crush on him was a really long time ago. Three years ago."
"Right, too closed off and a really long time ago," she murmurs sarcastically. "I believe you one hundred percent, Seong Jin."
"Wait, where are you going?" Edward muses, furrowing his eyebrows in bemusement.
"Oh, um... I was gonna head over to the library to get the Othello book. We have literature today so I will be needing it for my lesson after lunch," I lie effortlessly, slinging my bag over my back.
I actually got that book weeks before our teacher told us to because strangely, I like being way ahead of everyone. Just a weird thing I do.
I have this slightly questionable habit of finding a dozen creative excuses to avoid seeing Taylor and Edward together too often. Unintentionally on purpose. Or maybe purposefully unintentional. Whatever.
And don't get me wrong, I am genuinely happy for her. Taylor is in a solid relationship with a guy who actually respects her, laughs at her jokes, and engages her when she quotes crime documentaries. I have no beef with their romance. As far as secondary school relationships go, theirs is surprisingly stable and nauseatingly functional.
But I'm just not in the emotional headspace to witness that kind of affection without feeling like I have been personally mugged by Cupid. The sweet smiles, the hand holding, the stolen glances across crowded rooms—all very cute and also very stabby internally.
I find myself constantly thinking, please let me evaporate before they kiss again.
So I bail.
I dodge hangouts. I reschedule plans. I suddenly "remember" obscure errands or fake a pressing need to reorganise my sock drawer.
Because I don't want to sabotage anything.
"I thought you got the book already," Edward points out much to my surprise. "I distinctly remember you getting it weeks before Mrs. Presario even told us about it and then I teased you about being a geek, remember?"
My mouth opens and shuts as I try to conjure a response to him calling me out on my bullshit.
Shit.
I forgot about that. He did tease me about being a geek for getting the book weeks before everyone else. How could I forget about that?
I tug on the neck strap of my camera, resisting the urge to swing back and forth on my heels from the surge of discomfort. When Edward inquisitively tilts his head to the side, I settle for a stiff nod instead and a smile as grim.
"I need to check if the media room has updated its battery station."
A long, pregnant silence envelopes the three of us as my gaze wavers around from Taylor and Edward who are both furrowing their eyebrows in bemusement.
After blinking up at me weirdly, he murmurs, "Uh... okay."
Without saying anything else, I spin on my heels and awkwardly rush out of the canteen with my chin buried deep within my chest.
Jesus...