Safira's campaign for class leader was picking up steam. In 1-A, her determination and charismatic approach had swept through the classroom, convincingly winning over their thirty classmates with every speech and promise. Her vision for a united class, combined with her decision to appoint Fauzan Ali Rahman as vice leader, resonated well. It was clear that Safira understood the pulse of the class, her willingness to lead shining brightly.
Amid this harmonious support, there was an absence of dissent. No one displayed any signs of hostility towards her candidacy; rather, students seemed eager to rally behind her.
As the bell rang for lunch, I decided now was the perfect time to have an overdue conversation. Spotting Elta preparing to take her lunchbox, I approached her. With my own lunchbox in hand, I asked her, "Want to grab lunch together?"
"Let's find a quiet spot," I suggested, nodding towards the hallway that led to one of our favorite secluded areas, away from the lively cafeteria crowd.
Intrigued, she joined me, and we headed to the quiet alcove behind the school garden—a cozy, tucked-away corner that had become our go-to spot for private conversations.
I couldn't help but steal a glance at her while she carefully opened her lunchbox.
"Hey, about the next exhibition for the preparation of the Independence Day competition," she suddenly said, glancing up from her meal, "which school do you think our team will face?"
"I'm not sure," I replied, considering her question. "But I think the boys' team and girls' team will face different schools for the next match. Our last opponent also had quite a noticeable gap between their boys' and girls' teams."
"That also happens with the basketball team," I added, reflecting on the different dynamics. "It seems the focus really varies from one sport to another, and it can be frustrating at times. The boys' team often gets more attention, while the girls' team has to fight for recognition."
Elta nodded in agreement. "It shouldn't be that way. Everyone deserves the same support, regardless of gender. Every player, whether boys or girls, puts in hard work and dedication."
"But they say only a few seniors who graduated from this school make it to be top professionals," Elta commented, her tone tinged with concern.
I shook my head. "Maybe so. Nevertheless, while many graduates from this school might not be widely famous, a lot of them are still practicing sports professionally or at least working within the sports industry. It's about more than just medals; it's about the experiences and skills they gain here."
Elta nodded, considering my words. "That's a good point."
We fell into a comfortable silence as we finished our meals.
Once I swallowed the last bite of my food, I hesitated, then decided now was the time. "Elta, actually I have something to talk to you about."
"What is that?" she asked, taking a sip of water, her eyes focused on me, curious.
"This is about…" I started, but she cut me off with a teasing smile.
"Do you want to confess to me?" she said, her tone playful.
I shook my head, feeling a slight annoyance at her teasing. "No, not that."
Elta laughed, clearly enjoying herself. I knew very well about her playful jests; she often teased other boys in our class and on the volleyball team, and it was almost endearing—almost. Her beauty indeed was in the top 1% of girls I had ever seen. With her striking features, bright eyes, and that effortless smile, there was an allure about her that often left those around her captivated. I felt pity for anyone who would fall into her trap someday; she had a charm that could easily ensnare even the most cautious.
"Seriously, though, what's bothering you?" she asked, her playful facade fading slightly as she leaned in with genuine concern.
I took a breath, gathering my thoughts before I continued. "It's not like I doubt you, but I have this feeling that something is off, you know, about something in the volleyball club..."
I started recounting the events from that day when Elice's phone went missing. Then tell everything about it to Elta. She listened carefully, her expression shifting from playful to serious as I explained.
"Oh, so Kelly didn't put Elice's phone in her bag?" she asked, her brows furrowing.
"Yes. Do you know something about that?" I replied, leaning in closer.
"Well, I had no idea. This is the first time I'm hearing about it," she said.
"Then how about this phone number?" I asked, pulling up the screenshot on my phone and showing it to her. Kelly had received a message stating, 'Elice's phone is in your bag.'
Elta studied the message carefully, her face unreadable.
"This number sent the message to Kelly. This is your old number, isn't it?"
She smiled confidently but there was a hint of curiosity behind her eyes. "Why do you think it's my old number? Is there any proof, Hamza?"
"Maybe you still use that number for different purposes, though. When Kelly called me that day and gave me the screenshot, the first thing I did was check if the number was in my contact list. It was not. Then I checked if the number was connected to any school emails.
"You remember, right? The school gave us all school emails on the first day. We can log in to the school website using that email and password. Once you connect your phone number to the account, you can easily use your phone number to log in too. If you forget your password or email, you can just ask for an OTP to your connected number. I tried to log in with that number and a random password. Of course, it was the wrong password. So, I clicked 'forgot password,' and then two choices showed up: OTP from the number or OTP from this email address. This email is partially censored, but only you in this school have 'Elta' in front of the email, right?"
Elta chuckled, but the laughter didn't ease my concern. "Seriously, you went that far? Why would you even do that? Isn't that none of your business, Hamza?"
Her tone shifted, taking on a teasing edge that felt oddly distant. This was not the friendly Elta I knew at all.
With her playful demeanor suddenly fading, I couldn't help but press on. "Did you put Elice's phone in Kelly's bag that day?"
For a moment, Elta seemed taken aback, her earlier playfulness vanishing. She didn't answer right away, her gaze drifting to the side as if she were weighing her response. The silence hung between us, charged with unspoken truths.
"Elta?" I pressed gently, wanting to gauge her reaction.
"If it's you, why did you do that?"
Elta finally looked back at me, her expression shifting slightly. "Okay, fine. I confess—it was me who put Elice's phone in Kelly's bag."
"It's just a prank, really," she said, a hint of mischief in her voice. "Don't be that concerned. Moreover, it's already settled, right? What did Kelly tell Elice? Oh yeah, she just mistakenly put the phone in her bag. It's over, really." Elta giggled, as if the whole thing were nothing more than a harmless joke.
"A prank? Are you serious?" I said, trying to wrap my head around her rationale. "You thought this would be funny? Elice was worried sick!"
"I know, I know," she replied, waving her hands dismissively. "But come on, sometimes you just need a little chaos to shake things up. Everyone takes themselves too seriously. I didn't think it'd blow up like this. It was seriously just a prank! I even decided to tell Kelly about it, right? If it wasn't a prank, I wouldn't have even bothered texting Kelly."
My mind was racing with questions. What had started as an innocent collaboration on the volleyball team had morphed into something more complex. Elta's casual dismissal of the prank felt off; there was an underlying tension in her words that I couldn't ignore. It was almost as if she didn't fully grasp the potential consequences of her actions. Could someone who genuinely cared about Elice and her well-being make light of a situation that left her distressed?
I couldn't shake the feeling that Elta was hiding something. The way she teased about the incident, presenting it as harmless fun, left me with doubts about her intentions. Was she really just trying to lighten the mood, or was there a deeper motive behind her actions? In the weeks we'd trained together, I'd seen glimpses of her competitive spirit, but now I wondered if that competition could turn into something more destructive. If she felt threatened by Elice's talent or popularity, would she be willing to cross lines to protect her own insecurities?
Today, I found out about Elta's red flags and her future potential to be a sabotage. I need to be careful with her. Navigating friendships in this environment required more vigilance than I initially expected. I realized that not all laughter was innocent, and beneath the surface, motivations might be mixed and murky. As I prepared for practice later, I knew I had to keep my eyes open—not just for Elice's sake, but for my own as well.