Chapter 48:

Chapter 33.5 - how we got together (Part 7)

Crazy life at School, but Maybe…

It’s morning. Again.

And like clockwork, Mom’s already shouting from the kitchen.

“Remember what I told you, okay!?”

I slip on my sneakers, already half out the door. “Huh?! Yeah, yeah!!!”

“ALEXANDER!”

“FINE! I GOT IT!”

She folds her arms, squinting like a sniper from the balcony. “Okay, good…”

I sigh, swing my bag over my shoulder, then give her a proper salam, followed by a kiss to Hana’s forehead. My little sister giggles and waves with her sleepy face smushed against the couch pillow.

Then, outside—

I spot Faiz and Marina waiting near the usual corner, and beside them—

A new face?

“Hey,” the guy says, adjusting his cap. “Mind if I tag along? Name’s Adinor. I live nearby, and I noticed we all walk the same route.”

“Sure.” I nod, and Faiz daps him with a high five.

Cool. More the merrier.

But just as we start walking—

I feel it.

A chill.

A shadow.

A death aura so strong it could make even the a dog would be scared.

My entire back seizes up.

Then I hear it.

“ALEXANDER IMRAN!!!!!!!!!”

My blood freezes.

That voice.

That unholy scream that could split mountains.

“OH CRAP.”

“That’s Natalie!” Marina gasps.

“RUN!!!” Faiz shouts.

“Nat, calm down!!” Luna yells behind her, laughing.

My instincts scream: FLIGHT. FLEE. ESCAPE.

I bolt.

I run like the wind, arms pumping, bag flapping behind me, face in panic mode. Adinor yells “What the heck?!” as I fly past, and even cars slow down at the sight of a full-on anime chase happening in real life.

But she’s still behind me.

Fast.

Too fast.

I glance back—Natalie is sprinting like a track star on fire. Her cheeks puffed, eyes burning, her hair tied up with a pink scrunchie, wearing retro denim overalls and white lace shirt, her black sports shoes pounding the pavement with murderous intent.

Cute?

Yes.

Terrifying?

Absolutely.

“WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON!?!?!”

“GET BACK HERE!!! I NEED TO TALK TO YOU!!!” she screams like I just ruined her wedding.

And then—

SQUISH.

Oh no.

“Oh sh—"

My foot lands right on a dog turd.

SLIP.

My balance disappears.

“WAAAHHHHHHHHHHH—!!”

CRASH.

I hit the ground like a meteor.

The impact knocks the air out of me.

Then—

SHE JUMPS.

Like a flying squirrel of fury.

BOOM.

She lands right on my chest, pinning me to the ground like some final boss.

Her breathing is wild. Her cheeks? Red as chili.
But then I see it—

Tears.

Her eyes are glistening. Her face twisted in pure frustration.

She leans in—

And screams—

“YOU NEED TO STRAIGHTEN THINGS OUT!!!! WE ARE NOT A COUPLE!!!!”

The birds in the trees actually fly away from the shockwave of her voice.

I blink.

Still stunned.

People around us start gathering like it’s a school drama episode. Even Marina, Faiz, and Adinor show up, wide-eyed.

“WH-WHAT?!” I gasp. “EWW—WHY WOULD YOU BE MY GIRLFRIEND?! I’M NOT YOUR SLAVE!!”

“THEN FIX IT AT SCHOOL!! GOT IT?!!”

“WH-WHY ME?!?!”

From the sidelines, Luna crosses her arms with a smug grin. “Good job, Nat. You’re a tough nut to crack—but you and Alex? Totally meant for each other.”

“HEY!!! WHAT’RE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!” I yell.

Natalie turns to her with steam blowing out of her ears. “YOU’RE MY BEST FRIENDS!! HOW COULD YOU SAY THAT AND YOU KNOW THAT!! AND WE ARE NOT IN A RELATIONSHIP!!”

Faiz gives a thumbs up. “Yeah, sure.”

Marina sighs dramatically. “Uh huh. Denial is a stage.”

Even Adinor shrugs. “Looks like love to me.”

“NOOOOOOOOOO!!!” we both scream in perfect sync.

Cue the camera zooming out as birds fly, the school bell rings, and we’re both left in a dramatic freeze frame of mutual rage, confusion, and… something else neither of us want to admit.

The moment I step into class, I feel it.

That buzz in the air.

The kind that only happens when something spreads faster than a speeding bullet and worse than a cold in winter.

“AMIGOOOOO~!!!”
A wild Xavier appears—arms wide open like he's about to hug me.

He grips my shoulders, eyes sparkling like a soap opera villain. “That was some cool guy move out there, bro!”

Before I can speak, Francisco leans over from behind his desk.
“¡Alex, eres un campeón!” he says with a dramatic finger gun. “Defending Natalie? ¡Muy valiente!”

Will gives me a massive thumbs-up from across the room like we’re in a sports anime. “Legend….”

Keiko—oh no. Keiko.
She clutches her cheeks, blushing with her whole body.

“Uwaa~! So romantic~!” she giggles, twisting into some magical girl pose.
“Congratulation~ Alex-kun and Natalie-chan~!”

“Wait—no—it’s NOT like that—!”

Then—

WHAM.

Like a meteor from above, Camile crashes into the scene with the grace of a rampaging hippo.

“OUTTA THE WAY, GIRL!!”

SPLAT!
Keiko hits the floor face-first. “NANI KOREEEE?!?!” she yells from the ground, legs flailing.

Camile winks at me like she’s proud of herself. “Dat’s da way, Alex, ya hear me?! Mark ya territory, boy!”

“WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?!” I yell back.

Suddenly someone yanks my arm. Muhammad, looking like I just committed a sin against the heavens, grips me with burning concern.

“Mashallah, brother!” he gasps. “That’s haram!! Defending girls? Public affection?! Wallahi! What is this romance arc?!”

“THERE WAS NO ROMANCE ARC!!!!” I protest, panic rising. “I WASN’T EVEN TRYING TO—!”

“Ahem.”

I slowly turn.

Hussain is there, stroking his chin like some wise monk from an Eastern martial arts movie.

He closes his eyes.
“Good man… Brother… well done.”

“HUH?! You too?!”

Then from the front row, Jasmine crosses her arms with a deadpan expression, judging me with all the intensity of a Supreme Court trial.

She nods. Slowly. As if I’ve disgraced the heavens.

“What did I even do wrong?!” I cry out.

All of them stare at me like I’m the protagonist of some forbidden romance drama.

I slam my hands on my desk.

“LISTEN UP!! I’M NOT IN A RELATIONSHIP!!! THERE’S NOTHING GOING ON BETWEEN ME AND NATALIE!!! WE’RE NOT DATING, WE’RE NOT ENGAGED, WE’RE NOT EVEN FRIENDS IN A FLUFFY WAY, OKAY?!?!”

...

Silence.

...

Then from the back, someone whispers:
“...That’s exactly what a guy fall in love would say.”

🔥🔥🔥

I’M GONNA FLIP THIS WHOLE CLASSROOM OVER.

It hasn’t even been a full week.

Just a few days since that dumb rumor exploded all over school like some romance subplot no one asked for—and yet the class still acts like they’re watching a live drama.

Everyone whispers.

Glances.

Giggling.

All because someone said I “defended Natalie.”

From what? A bad joke?

I try to tune it out, but my stomach reminds me I have a bigger problem: last night’s spicy sambal petai.

Thanks, Mom.

I raise my hand.

“Bathroom,” I mutter to Ms. Forest.

She just sighs and waves me off.

I bolt out, heading straight to the toilet for a different kind of emergency—the kind no hero training can prepare you for.

Inside the furthest cubicle, I finally sit down and try to relax.

Maybe now I can have a moment of peace.

…

Nope.

The door creaks open.

Voices echo.

Footsteps. Then… the smell.

Cigarette smoke.

Seriously?

Are they… smoking? In primary school?!

I freeze in place, peeking through the gap of the stall.

Three silhouettes.

One of them speaks.

“Hey… heard the new kid already big name now.”

Another replies, “Yeah... Oh, Wan... what's your take on this?”

Wan.

That name again.

He clicks his tongue. “That guy... He’s... tsk…”

“Huh?” another asks. “What’s with you, man?”

“I don’t like him,” Wan grumbles. “That guy Alex... just like Khairil.”

“Khairil? I thought you guys were tight?”

“Pshh. No way. He backstabbed me. Ignored me like trash. Same vibes from this Alex kid.”

“Ohhh... dramaaa~” one of them laughs.

I roll my eyes in the stall. Bunch of clowns.

Then it gets worse.

“Anyway, you hear the rumor? That Alex guy hangin’ with Natalie.”

“Yeaah, and that other girl... what’s her name... Luna?”

“Luna,” Wan sneers. “She’s nasty. Selling herself to that Latino guy.”

I grip the side of the wall, anger flaring.

“That Latino guy, right?” someone says. “I heard he’s gang.”

“Yup. Real thug vibes. But forget that. I wanna deal with Alex.”

“Man, you crazy. If you touch Alex, you get Nat angry. And Luna? You know what she’s like…”

“Like I care,” Wan says, puffing smoke. “I got a plan. We’ll start with Matt. That quiet guy always near her.”

“Yoo... this is gonna be fun.”

They laugh again.

Eventually, they leave.

I exhale slowly.

So that’s what they’re up to…

When I return to class, Ms. Forest gives me the death glare over her glasses.

“Well well, took your time, Mr. Imran.”

“Sorry. Nature called. Loudly.”

Before she can scold me, Francisco leans over and grins with a cheeky face.

"Eh... Alex... tienes algunos negocios arriesgados, ¿sí?”

She raises an eyebrow. “English, Francisco.”

The class bursts out laughing.

I groan.

Ms. Forest smirks, then taps the board. “Then let’s see if your brain’s still working.”

She points to the board:

12 + (3 × 2) = ?

Tell you the truth…

I stare at it like it’s hieroglyphics.

“…Uh... must be American math.”

Everyone laughs again.

Ms. Forest facepalms. “Alex... this is Grade 5. Not time travel theory.”

I scratch my head. “Oh... right. Thirty-six?”

“Wrong.”

“Forty-two?”

“Alex.”

“Okay okay! Eighteen!”

“...We’re working on your mental math after class.”

“Hey Alex, cher…” Camile leans over with that thick Southern drawl, lips curled into a teasing grin.
“You gotta get dat number thang goin’, sugar. Ain’t no words needed when ya got digits!”

The whole class bursts out laughing.

Even I can’t help but smirk.
What am I, a math jokes now?

Someone whistles. “Camile strikes again!”

My face heats up.
“Alright, alright, I get it! I suck at numbers, okay?!”

Jasmine calmly raises her hand and gives the correct answer before I can even recover from dissin' me

“Correct, Jasmine,” says Ms. Forest, giving her a gentle nod. “Good work.”

Then comes Lam, always the stoic one, cool as ice with that deadpan voice.
He turns his head toward me and says with zero emotion:

“...Well. You need study. Again.”

I slump forward. “Yeah, yeah. I kinda figured that part out…”

Before I can even dwell on my mathematical downfall, Xavier suddenly leans in from the side, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Amigo! Why don’t you ask Natalie for help, huh?” he nudges me with his elbow. “She’s the genius of the class! I heard she was once in the bilingual class, you know~”

Natalie?
That overdramatic girl who chased me across the playground yelling about false rumors and then screamed at the birds?!

Okay, yeah, she’s smart. But still…

“Nah,” I wave it off. “I’d rather ask Muhammad here.”

Muhammad, sitting beside me, straightens up like a proud tutor.

“Inshallah, I’ll help you,” he says seriously, opening his workbook. “But if you keep making jokes, brother, I’ll smack you with the ruler of knowledge.”

“...Please don’t,” I reply with a half-laugh.

While Ms. Forest continues explaining on the board, Muhammad leans closer and starts walking me through the steps.

“Okay, see this? Multiply first. Always multiply before you add. This part here is like—boom! Three times two. Easy, yes?”

“Boom, huh? Got it.”

“Then add twelve. What’s the total?”

“…Eighteen?”

“Alhamdulillah! He learns!”

I grin, feeling less like a total failure and more like a work-in-progress.

Ms. Forest adjusts her glasses and turns to the next victim—er, volunteer.

“Alright, Hussain, why don’t you try this one?” she says with her usual calm-but-slightly-threatening smile.

Hussain squints at the whiteboard like it’s radiating sunlight.

“…Uhh…”
He rubs his eyes. Then suddenly, without a word, he walks straight to the front, his footsteps heavy with dramatic purpose.

Everyone stares, eyebrows raised.

He picks up the whiteboard marker. There’s a tense pause as we all wait for him to solve the math problem.

Instead…

He scribbles:

Barcelona 1 : Real Madrid 2

The room goes completely silent.

Ms. Forest blinks twice. “Well... if this was a ratio question, I might have considered it.”
She crosses her arms, unimpressed. “But it’s just basic mixed operations, not football scores.”

Cue the mass facepalm.

🤦🏻‍♂️ 🤦🏻‍♀️ 🤦🏻‍♂️ 🤦🏻‍♂️

Even Ms. Forest has the deadpan emoji face: 😑

She sighs. “Anyone else?”

Suddenly Francisco shoots his hand up.

He stands like a brave warrior about to make a declaration of great wisdom.
Then says in full proud Spanish:

“No sé bien cómo responder, pero voy a consultar con mi antiguo profesor para obtener más información.”
(“I don’t really know how to answer, but I’ll ask my old teacher for more information.”)

Everyone in the class just blinks.

Ms. Forest stares at him blankly. “Francisco… English, please.”

Francisco shrugs, still proud. “old teacher very good!”

Before Ms. Forest can say anything, Xavier and Alejandro slap their hands on their desks at the same time.

“¡Idiota!” Alejandro groans.
“**Give answer, not telenovela speech!” Xavier adds, throwing his hands in the air.

Suddenly the three of them break into a chaotic argument in a whirlwind of broken English and Spanish insults:

“Is not ratio! Is math!”
“Why you bring your abuelo into this?!”
"Voy a llamarlo después, a ver si él sabe algo.”

“¡Tonto! We don’t have later!”

Everyone starts giggling, while Ms. Forest is seconds away from losing her mind.

Then, quietly and without flair, Lam raises his hand and walks calmly to the front.

He takes the marker.

“…This… how… to do…”

He writes the steps down methodically, breaking it down with silent precision.

Ms. Forest exhales a breath of relief. “Good job, Lam. At least someone knows what class they’re in.”

She turns back to the rest of us, arms crossed.

“You other boys seriously need to improve.”

Me, Francisco, Alejandro, Xavier, and Hussain?

We just sit there in unison like a pack of guilty monkeys.

🐒🐒🐒🐒🐒

This is how my class is…

Natalie’s Side –

That never-ending banter echoing across the room is driving me insane.
The boys arguing, the weird flirting, the math disasters—I swear, if someone breathes too loudly one more time, I might flip this desk.

Eeeekk!!
My brain is steaming like a kettle left too long on the stove.

Suddenly, a calm voice cuts through the noise.

“Natalie,” says Ms. Hazel, her tone firm yet kind, “would you mind explaining this for the class?”

She points to the projected slide—Native American History.

I take a deep breath, channeling my inner monologue voice like those anime heroines giving an epic flashback narration.

“Native American history spans thousands of years, from the earliest known peoples of the Americas to the present day.
Before European contact, there were over 500 tribes, each with their own languages, customs, and spiritual practices.

But everything changed when the colonizers came…”

The class goes quiet, surprisingly.

I continue, more serious now.

“…Their arrival brought diseases, displacement, and violent conquests.
The 19th century saw forced relocations, massacres, and assimilation efforts like the boarding schools that tried to erase Native culture.
But despite the trauma, Native Americans have resisted, adapted, and continued to fight to preserve their identity.”

I glance briefly at Ms. Hazel. She nods with a proud little smile.

“Even now, they’re working to revitalize their languages, protect their sacred sites, and fight for their sovereignty.”

There’s a brief silence after I finish.

“That’s… pretty detailed, Nat.” Ms. Hazel’s eyes are kind. “Thank you.”

Just as I let out a sigh of relief—

Wan suddenly speaks up from behind, his voice slick with sarcasm.

“Yeah, well, history says they were considered uncivilized, right? That’s why they lost. Sounds like they didn’t really have a place in America to begin with.”

EXCUSE ME?!

My blood boils so fast I swear my vision goes red.
Did he just—?!
Did he just step on an emotional landmine like it’s nothing?!

Ms. Hazel, though, keeps calm. Too calm.
She folds her arms and says, “Wan, in a way… you’re not entirely wrong.”

Wan looks so smug now. Like he just unlocked some boss-level bonus points.

But then—

“However,” Ms. Hazel continues, eyes narrowing slightly, “history isn’t just about who ‘won’ or who was labelled ‘civilized.’ It’s about understanding what happened and learning from it.”

She leans forward just enough to pierce the silence in the room.

“So tell me, Wan… if another country colonized your homeland, would you fight back?”

The smile on his face fades.

He shifts uncomfortably. “…That’s different. It depends on the people. The… context.”

I glare at him, fists clenched under the table. Context?!
This isn’t some video game war—you’re talking about real people, real blood, real pain.

Ms. Hazel raises a brow. “History is context. And empathy. You can’t pick and choose which tragedies matter based on convenience.”

Wan opens his mouth to protest—

“But,” she cuts in sharply, “no buts. You sit and think. That’s your homework.”

Wan slumps back in his chair, lips pressed in a tight line.

And me?
I sit a little taller.

Because I’m not just dressing like Native heritage out of habit.

I wear it to honor it.

The class goes quiet, surprisingly.

I continue, more serious now.

I glance briefly at Ms. Hazel. She nods with a proud little smile.

“Even now, they’re working to revitalize their languages, protect their sacred sites, and fight for their sovereignty.”

There’s a brief silence after I finish.

“That’s… pretty detailed, Nat.” Ms. Hazel’s eyes are kind. “Thank you.”

Just as I let out a sigh of relief—

Wan suddenly speaks up from behind, his voice slick with sarcasm.

“Yeah, well, history says they were considered uncivilized, right? That’s why they lost. Sounds like they didn’t really have a place in America to begin with.”

EXCUSE ME?!

My blood boils so fast I swear my vision goes red.
Did he just—?!
Did he just step on an emotional landmine like it’s nothing?!

Ms. Hazel, though, keeps calm. Too calm.
She folds her arms and says, “Wan, in a way… you’re not entirely wrong.”

Wan looks so smug now. Like he just unlocked some boss-level bonus points.

But then—

She leans forward just enough to pierce the silence in the room.

“So tell me, Wan… if another country colonized your homeland, would you fight back?”

The smile on his face fades.

He shifts uncomfortably. “…That’s different. It depends on the people. The… context.”

I glare at him, fists clenched under the table. Context?!
This isn’t some video game war—you’re talking about real people, real blood, real pain.

Ms. Hazel raises a brow. “History is context. And empathy. You can’t pick and choose which tragedies matter based on convenience.”

Wan opens his mouth to protest—

“But,” she cuts in sharply, “no buts. You sit and think. That’s your homework.”

Wan slumps back in his chair, lips pressed in a tight line.

And me?
I sit a little taller.

Because I’m not just dressing like Native heritage out of habit.

I wear it to honor it.

The bell rings, and the classroom begins to empty out like a broken dam.
Students flood the corridors in their usual noisy chaos, laughing, shouting, running—freedom mode activated.

I'm still putting my books away when Ms. Hazel approaches my desk with a look that’s… calm but strangely intent.

“Well, Nat?” she says with her arms crossed.

“Yes, Ms. Hazel?” I blink, a little nervous.

She gives me a slight smile. “Could you follow me for a moment? There’s… something I want to find out.”

“…Sure,” I say, feeling a bit weird.

Just as we’re about to leave, I hear a voice from across the hall:

“NAT!!”
Of course—Luna.

She jogs over, her hair bouncing, all sunshine and mischief as usual.

Ms. Hazel looks at her. “Would you like to come along too?”

“Huh?” Luna glances between us. “Uh… sure?”

And so the three of us make our way down the hallway toward the bilingual class.

Outside the windows, I see kids running on the field, kicking balls and screaming like it's the World Cup—but there’s no sign of Alex.

We step into the classroom.

“Hey, Ms. Forest,” Ms. Hazel greets the bilingual class teacher.

“Oh, hi Hazel!” Ms. Forest waves us in. “Alex here is… a bit out of commission.”

“Ugh…” comes a groan from the back corner.

We turn and see him slouched over a desk, face buried in his arms.

Ms. Hazel raises an eyebrow. “Oh dear. What happened?”

Ms. Forest sighs. “He said it’s a stomach ache. I asked and—”

“Yeah... thanks to Mom’s sambal,” Alex mutters, lifting his head. His face is pale. “It’s not food. It’s a biological weapon… ugh…”

Ms. Hazel chuckles awkwardly. “I see. Homemade napalm.”

“Basically.”

Ms. Forest steps aside and gestures to us. “Hazel had something to ask you, Alex.”

Alex raises his brows slightly. “Ugh... yeah? I can try... What’s up?”

Ms. Hazel looks at him curiously. “One of my students gave a very insightful explanation about colonisation. So I’m curious… If your home country had been colonized, how would you feel? What would you do?”

Alex blinks, then slowly sits up straight. Despite his discomfort, there’s a glimmer of focus in his eyes.

“…Well,” he mutters, “if you think colonisation is just about territory, you’re missing the big picture.”

I lean in a little. Huh?

“Mom always tells me... that colonisation is about power, not just land. The path to 'civilisation' is always paved by someone holding a bigger stick.”

“That's… quite a statement,” Ms. Hazel muses, clearly intrigued.

Alex reaches out and grabs a marker. Without hesitation, he starts sketching a circular diagram on the whiteboard.

It reads:

Hunter-Gatherer → Faith → Trade / Economy → Expansion → War → Decline → Restart

“It’s a cycle,” Alex says, his voice calm now, clearer. “Civilisations rise and fall in loops. It doesn’t matter if it’s Rome, the Aztecs, or the Bugis. The cycle repeats.”

Even Luna is wide-eyed now.
Ms. Hazel and I are staring at the board, impressed.

“Wait…” I mutter. “That’s like... historical theory.”

“Yeah,” Alex shrugs. “Mom showed me a figurine once—South American god, I think. She said, ‘Even gods get replaced.’”

Ms. Hazel leans forward, intrigued. “And what do you think happened with the Native Americans?”

“Well... they didn’t get the exposure. The world was changing and they were... isolated. And yeah, Columbus gets the credit, but technically, the first to arrive in the Americas was a Viking, right? Leif Erikson?”

I blink. “Wait… You read that?”

“Yeah,” he says with a faint smirk. “I like maps. And legends.”

Even though he looks tired, there’s this spark in his eyes, like someone who’s seen things he won’t say out loud.

Ms. Hazel folds her arms. “So if your home were colonised, what would you do?”

Alex's smirk fades into something colder.

“…I’d fight,” he says simply. “Why would I let strangers take my home and call it theirs? I don’t care what era it is. You don’t get to rewrite who I am.”

That answer hangs in the air.

Ms. Hazel looks at him like she’s seeing him for the first time.

“Alright,” she says softly. “You should rest. Thanks, Alex.”

“Yeah, yeah…” he leans back down, burying his head again. “If I die from sambal, tell my mom I loved her.”

I giggle softly.

Then I glance at him again, and—for a moment—my heart skips.

“Umm… Alex?”

He lifts his head a bit, his hair messy.

“…What?”

I feel my face get warm.

Why is he kind of cute when he’s grumpy and half-dead…?

We're walking back through the corridor, the tiled floor echoing softly under our feet.

Ms. Hazel strolls beside me with a thoughtful look on her face. “You know, I’ve been wondering… how did Wan manage to give an answer like that? While Alex’s reply felt like he actually understood the weight of it.”

“Yeah, I’ve been wondering the same thing,” I reply, hugging my books to my chest. “My dad told me something similar once… Like what Alex said. About power, history, cycles. It’s weird—like they’re both reading from the same page.”

Ms. Hazel chuckles lightly. “It’s been a while since I felt inspired by student discussions. But Alex’s knowledge? That’s pretty advanced for a ten-year-old. Though… his math?” She grins.

“Needs divine intervention.”
We both giggle.

Then Luna throws in her usual chaos.

“Well, I think he looks kinda cute though~”

(Present-day Natalie, narrating in voiceover)
Funny, isn’t it?
That’s probably when it started… That weird protective instinct I got whenever someone mentioned his name.
I used to think he was just some quiet weirdo… but maybe, deep down, I already knew—
I was falling for him.

“Ew. Then you can have him,” I say, nose turned up in mock disgust.

“Huh? Are you jealous?” Luna smirks with that smug face of hers.

That single line sends a cold shiver down my spine.

“W-What?! NO! You get him!! Enjoy his suffering for all I care!!”

Luna gasps. “YAY~ Really!? Don’t mind if I do!”
And she bolts down the hall, skipping like some love-crazed anime heroine.

“Wait, what?! H-Hey!!! Get back here!!”

Before I can even think, my body acts on its own—I sprint after her and grab her arm.

She turns, grinning wide. “Told ya. You’re totally into him.”

“Shut up,” I mumble, cheeks burning.

We both burst into laughter.

Lunch break now. We split from Ms. Hazel and head toward the cafeteria. My stomach’s rumbling, but something’s… off.

A wave of noise hits us the moment we step near the entrance.

“HEY! THAT’S MY FOOD!!!”

“HUH!? YOU ALWAYS EAT TOO MUCH, YOU PIG!!”

I peek in.

Oh no.
It’s Jackson and Wan—and they’re causing trouble again.

Inside the cafeteria, a crowd is forming. I spot Matt and Travis getting cornered.

I march forward. “Hey! What’s going on here!?”

Wan turns, arms crossed. “We were sitting here first, but looks like these punks don’t listen to instructions.”

More like you’re trying to claim the entire cafeteria.

Suddenly, they yank Matt by his collar and drag him toward the lockers.

“HEY!” I chase after them.

They shove him hard into the metal, the loud clang echoing through the hallway.

“What’s wrong with you guys!?” I shout.

Wan smirks. “Heard you're getting too friendly with Nat. Thought we’d help you get even closer to her.”

“Back off, man!!” Matt yells. “We’re just classmates!!”

Luna appears beside me, eyes sharp. “You touch him again, and I swear—”

Wan sneers. “What, you think your boyfriend is gonna save you?”

Bad move.

I see Luna’s hand twitch—she’s reaching for her hidden knife.

“Luna! No!” I hiss, pulling her back.

Things are spiraling. Fast.

Suddenly, we hear it—

THUD-THUD-THUD!!!

Footsteps. Fast. Heavy. Aggressive.

From the hall by the restrooms—

“OUTTA THE WAY, MORONS!!!”

ALEX.

He bursts out of the hallway, eyes wild, face twisted in panic, one hand still clutching his stomach.

Before anyone can react—

BAM!

He body-slams Jackson like a raging bull.
WHAM!
Wan gets thrown into a trash bin.

THWACK! SMACK! CRASH!

Ten boys. All down. Like dominoes.

Matt stares, wide-eyed. “Wh-What the heck…? Did he just—?!”

Alex stands there, breathing heavily. Eyes half-lidded. One hand on his gut.

He enters the restroom next to us— and…

“ARGHHHHH!!! STUPID MOM!!!! WHY’D YOU FEED ME THAT!!!!”

Everyone: 😐

(Present-day Natalie, narrating again)
That was probably the moment.
The moment everything inside me said:

“This boy... is mine.”

Even if I have to share that pain and fight beside him—

He’s someone I’ll protect too.

The commotion earlier? Yeah... that led to another disaster.
And now, somehow, Alex has developed a fanbase.

“HE’S SO COOL!!!” 🤩
Matt, please. He’s more dumb than cool. But sure, fanboy all you want.

Meanwhile, the hallway looks like a battlefield.
Ten boys knocked out cold.
Some twitching.
A couple with stars spinning around their heads like classic anime background effects.
One is drooling. Another still mumbling, “mama…”

Just then—
FLLUUUUSH.

The door to the toilet creaks open like a horror film.
Alex steps out, wiping his forehead like he just survived a demon summoning.

“Phewww! That was one close call… another second and I'd be—”
He stops.
We all stop.

That. Smell. Hits. Us. Like. A. Truck.

💀💀💀

Luna and I instantly cover our noses.
“Ewwww!!! Did you even WASH your hands!?” I snap.

“Huh? Of course I did! What—”

Luna suddenly bursts into laughter, clutching her stomach and rolling on the floor.

“WHAT NOW!?” Alex shouts.

Matt, barely holding it in, points. “Bro… your pants…”

Alex looks down.

…Oh.

There’s a long roll of toilet paper still attached to the waistband of his pants, trailing behind him like a wedding veil.

“OH, SH*T!!!”
He zips back into the restroom like Sonic on caffeine.

Even I can’t hold it anymore—I laugh so hard my eyes tear up.

Just then, Faiz walks up, confused.
“Yo… uh… where’s Alex?”

I simply point toward the restroom.

The second he steps inside—

“BROOOOOO!!! WHAT THE HELL!? THAT SMELL IS PETAI!!!!”
“DON’T ASK ME, BRO!!” Alex roars. “ASK MY MOM!!!”
“PETAI DOESN’T EVEN EXIST IN AMERICA, BRO!!!!”
“THEN EXPLAIN THIS EXPLOSION IN MY STOMACH!!!!”

Me, Luna, and Matt: 😖💀
Absolute. Dumbass.
Why would you yell that in public!?

Marina arrives just in time, smirking like she’s about to spill drama.
She leans to me.

“You know sambal, right?”

“Huh? Uh… no?”

She winks. “It’s basically like salsa… but, you know… with a vengeance. Pure chili.
Perfect for lovebirds having a chummy toilet moment.” 😏

EWWW.
I know what she’s implying. And I hate that it kinda makes sense.

Alex and Faiz finally emerge from the bathroom, looking like survivors of a war zone.

Marina doesn’t miss a beat.

“So… done with your intimate business?”

“AS IF!!!” Alex and Faiz scream in unison.

Alex squints. “Why is everyone here anyway?”

We all silently point behind him.

He turns.

“Ohhh… this.”

The battlefield.
The ten unconscious boys, still slumped like sacks of potatoes.

Casually, Alex walks over and begins dragging their bodies one by one, aligning them like soldiers in a lineup—arms crossed, heads tilted in symmetry.
Perfect spacing.

We all stare, slightly horrified.

“Umm… Alex… why do you look like you’ve done this before?” I ask slowly.

Faiz gulps. “Bro… have you, uh… ever killed someone?”

“What!?” Alex blinks. “You kidding me!?”

Marina crosses her arms. “You did handle them like sacks of rice…”

Luna, Matt, and I nod quietly.

Alex sighs, brushing dirt from his shirt. “What else was I supposed to do? They were blocking the way.”

Then, he kneels…
and begins checking their pulse.
One by one.

Why is that scarier than the fighting itself!?

Suddenly, Alex’s expression changes.
A slow, sinister grin spreads across his face.

“Hey… anyone know where the shovel is?”

“HUH!?” Faiz yelps. “What for!?”