Dissonance

With a flurry of voices rising and falling like a badly tuned radio, the cafeteria was alive with restless energy. The fatty smell of fried chicken strips and the subtle sting of bleach from the morning's cleaning filled the air as trays clattered against tables. Mina sat on the edge of a bench with her salad dish on her lap and her fork aimlessly prodding the mushy lettuce. The unsteady beat of her sneakers tapping on the tiled floor revealed the uneasiness she was unable to express. Chai was stretched in his seat across from her, his thumb aimlessly Browse his phone while his basketball jersey was crumpled from practice.

His tone was light, but his eyes flicked up to see how she would respond. "You seen Lalin today?" he inquired.

Mina gripped the fork tighter, the plastic making a little creaking sound. "No. Most likely hiding out somewhere with Kiet.

Chai's sneer appeared, faint yet direct. "Still stuck on that?"

Her shoulders slumped casually as she shrugged. "It's not a huge concern. She has priorities in life.

The falsehood was a weak disguise for the jealousy that grew more intense every day, and it tasted nasty. The resentment had taken root, sharp and unyielding, but Mina had tried to ignore it—the way Kiet's calm presence seemed to overshadow her own, the way Lalin moved toward the music room.

She was startled out of her reverie when a tray thumped onto the table. Niran sank onto the chair next to Chai, his eyes sparkling with the mischievous gleam that usually preceded anarchy. With a low, eager voice, he asked, "Heard the latest about the talent show?" "They're saying Lalin's got something big planned."

Mina's pulse quickened as her fork hesitated in the middle of its stab. "What kind of big?"

With a smile that cut through the cacophony, Niran leaned forward. "A duet featuring the scholarship recipient. Dance and violin, perhaps. Very artistic stuff.

A little frown took the place of Chai's smirk. "Kiet?"

"That's the one," Niran remarked in a derisive tone. "Guess she's aiming for a pity spotlight."

Anger flared hot and fast, and Mina's chest tightened. Worse than Niran's arrogance, she detested the way that hearing Lalin's name in his tongue made her feel unimportant. Careless and jagged, the words escaped before she could imprison them. She doesn't act as cool about it as she does. She has been going crazy over performing once more.

Niran's fascination sharpened as his eyebrows went upward. "What, like stage fright?"

The damage had already begun when Mina hesitated, the bitter tang of sorrow filling her mouth. "Yes. She is terrified that it will happen again because she choked so badly the prior time.

Niran's smile widened like a predator. "This is too good, I must say. People must be aware.

Chai's expression froze as he looked at Mina. "You're actually giving him ammo?"

Cold dread swept through her, causing her stomach to lurch. "It's not—like, everyone saw her freeze anyway."

"No, they didn't," Chai stated in a harsh, flat voice. "You just sold her out."

Already standing, Niran looked around the room like a bird circling its prey. "See you later. This will spread quickly.

Chai stayed a moment longer, standing with his chair scratching. "Mina, that was low. You are aware of it.

Mina was left stuck in the echo of her own error as he left, his massive shoulders slicing through the crowd. The salad was left behind, a wilted mess that reflected the knot in her stomach.

The rumor spread like ink in water through the school's arteries by late afternoon. Lalin sensed it in the weight of each gaze and the abrupt silence of the discussions as she went by. She pushed textbooks into her locker with trembling hands, the metal door clanging with each awkward push. Students were making their way toward the exits as the hallway thinned out, but the air felt oppressively heavy.

She heard deliberate, gentle footsteps approaching and looked up to see Kiet with his violin case draped over one shoulder. He called out, "Hey," his voice a pillar in the tumbling maelstrom. "You holding up?"

Lalin's breath caught in her throat as she slammed the locker shut. "You heard what they're saying, right?"

A glint of rage darkened Kiet's eyes as his jaw tightened. "Yes. It's trash.

Her voice broke as she shook her head. "It's not. I'm afraid. It is now available for everyone to critique.

With a tentative anchor, he moved closer, his hand hovering close to her elbow. "It makes no difference what people think. It is merely sound.

It wasn't just noise, though. Her vulnerability was brought to light, and the armor she had worked so hard to build was publicly stripped away. "Kiet, I can't handle that stage. Not when everyone is waiting for me to lose it."

In a quick, anchoring touch, his fingers touched her sleeve. "You won't be up there alone."

Panic made her laugh harsh and piercing. "What if I drag you down with me?"

"Then we deal with it," he stated in a firm and ferocious tone. However, you will not. You're more resilient than this.

Lalin's eyes were burning and on the verge of tears. "You can't know that."

"I do," he demanded, fixing his eyes on hers. "I've watched you fight for this."

The words passed by her without being able to break through the escalating fear. With her sneakers squeaking on the floor, she turned and ran down the hallway, leaving Kiet motionless and his outstretched palm empty.

The dancing studio's mirrored walls reflected Lalin's broken reflection, and it smelled like perspiration and polished wood. Her back slipped down until she reached the floor as she fell against the barre, her knees folding under her. The cool air brushed over her hot skin, and the only sound in the room was the slight hum of the overhead lights. Then, as the weight of the day overwhelmed her, hot, unexpected tears streamed down her face.

Her life had been based on control—perfect composure, perfect grades, and perfect steps—but now it was falling apart, piece by fragile piece. Once a flimsy dream, the duet with Kiet felt like a guillotine on the verge of falling. Her fingers dug into her thighs as though to claw the panic from her, and she breathed in short gasps.

Lalin's head snapped up as she trembled at the creaking of the door hinges. As he entered, Kiet's face softened as he saw her rumpled body. He walked across the room and sank down next to her without saying anything, their shoulders grazing each other in the silence.

He said, "You don't have to shut me out," in a soft, quiet voice.

Lalin's whisper was barely audible as her throat constricted. "I'm not. I simply I have no idea how to stop disintegrating."

Instead of responding immediately, he took a damaged notepad out of his pocket. When he opened it, he saw sheets with rough sketches of music and notes. "This is what I do when it gets bad," he stated. "Put it somewhere else."

Her fingers twitched toward the pages as she gazed at them. "Does it work?"

"Enough to keep going," he shrugged slightly. "Try it."

With shaky hands, Lalin picked up the notepad and turned to a blank page. Before she finally touched the pen to the paper, it hovered in her head like a storm of static. Words flowed out, raw and unpolished but real: guilt, fear, the smothering pressure of eyes she couldn't get away from. The pandemonium in her chest subsided, if only little, with each scrawled line.

Her face felt dry and her breathing was less labored when she stopped. Kiet gazed at her, his eyes patient and loving.

He said, "Feel different?"

A small, weary smile appeared on her face as she nodded. "A bit."

He got up and held out a hand. "Let's get some air."

Grasping it firmly with his hand against hers, Lalin allowed him to lift her up. Two figures, flawed but solid, their outlines reflected in the studio's mirrors as they walked toward the door, the day's burden slightly lessened in their wake.