Chapter 33.5 - how we got together (Part 9)

Alex Side –

The morning sun climbs high by the time we finally pack up and say our farewells. Before we leave the settlement, one of the Navajo elders steps forward and gently hands me something small—wrapped in aged, handwoven cloth.

“This,” he says in a deep, calming voice, “is for you, son.”

I unfold the cloth and stare down at the arrowhead pendant. It’s old, smooth yet heavy with meaning. I open the collar of my shirt without thinking—and freeze. Hanging from my neck is the bird-shaped wooden pendant.

Frederica…

The elder notices. He leans in, eyes narrowing slightly.

“That bird… it’s a symbol of freedom. May I ask, who gave it to you?”

“My best friend… back home. She’s still alive.”

He nods solemnly, and then, without asking, ties the arrowhead onto the same string, right beside the wooden bird.

“Freedom… and guidance. May they both lead you well, Alex.”

“T-Thanks… Elder.”

And then… back into the car. For another five hours through the hot, silent desert.

By the time we return home, the sun is punishing the streets, and the neighborhood looks like a ghost town. Everyone’s hiding from the heat. The old Volkswagen chugs into the driveway, rattling like it’s about to die from exhaustion. Mom stretches, satisfied.

“Well… we made it. Let’s rest.”

“I’d love to… IF Hana didn’t just make a toxic gas leak in her diaper!!”

“Oooo~ Again!!” Hana giggles as I groan and scoop her up like she’s radioactive.

To the bathroom I go, gagging like a soldier in a chemical warzone.

While I’m scrubbing her off in the tub, there’s a knock on the door.

Knock knock.

I peek out the bathroom window. A man—dressed in traditional Muslim clothing—stands politely at the door, his calm smile strangely… too serene. Like the kind of calm that hides a deeper silence. He looks… Southeast Asian?

Mom opens the door.

“Yes?”

“Assalamualaikum, sister. There will be a dakwah (Islamic outreach) gathering for the local youth. I humbly invite your son to attend.”

I overhear everything from the bathroom. My gut twists.

That guy... there's something off about him.

Mom calls out to me, “Alex! There’s a religious meet-up nearby. Just go and take a look.”

I finish dressing Hana and myself, then nod silently. The man is gone… but something lingers. Like the scent of incense that doesn’t match the air.

I arrive at the musolla—the small prayer space.

It’s… quiet.

Too quiet.

Dozens of kids, all sitting in rows, but not a single adult in sight.

Red flag. Big red flag.

I turn around—only for someone to yank me by the arm.

“Hey! You going in there?”

He’s scruffy, older than me, maybe a middleage man. His accent—Malaysian. There’s weariness in his voice. Like he’s seen too much.

“Yeah. Something about a gathering.”

“Tch. That guy who invited you—he’s not right. Imam or not, be careful.”

“But why are there no adults?”

“Come here.”

I follow him to outside of the musolla.

“You Muslim?”

“Yeah.”

“Then tell me—what are the Five Pillars of Islam?”

“Shahada. Salat. Zakat. Sawm. Hajj.” I respond without hesitation.

He nods, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully.

“And the Six Pillars of Iman?”

I breathe deep.

“Belief in Allah. His Angels. His Books. His Messengers. The Day of Judgment. And Qadr—the Divine Decree.”

There’s a long pause.

Then a faint smile. “Good. You’ve been taught well. Don’t forget that. Keep it close.”

“Why won’t you come in with me?”

“If that guy sees me… he’ll run. I’ve confronted him before. If he thinks I’m here… it’ll get worse.”

Suddenly, another figure approaches. An old man—perhaps in his 70s—with piercing eyes that see through time.

He places a firm hand on my shoulder.

“Son… what’s about to happen… may shake you. But I hope you have the strength to endure it.”

“Inshallah…” I reply, unsure if my voice is steady or cracking.

My steps feel heavier now as I walk toward the building.

Whatever this is… it’s not just about religion. It’s about control. Manipulation. Maybe something darker.

But I’m not the scared boy from before… not anymore.

I step inside the musolla.

Instantly… the atmosphere changes.

The air feels dense. Not with heat, but something stranger—unnatural.

The usual calm of a prayer hall? Gone.

All around me, boys my age sit cross-legged, muttering verses of the Qur’an. But it’s not normal. Their voices drone like they’re stuck on repeat, eyes glassy. Blank. Hollow. Like they’re not even there.

What the hell is this…?

Suddenly—

A hand grabs my shoulder, tight.

“That necklace… does not belong in here!”

It’s him. That same man. The so-called imam who smiled at my mom like some holy angel. Now, up close, I see it—his eyes are cold. Judging. Not kind. Not safe.

My instincts take over.

I drop my stance low—and slam my foot right into his groin.

“UGHHH—!!!”

He drops like a broken puppet, and I spin with a roundhouse kick straight across his jaw.

CRACK!

He slams into the wall, knocked out cold.

The hall freezes.

I crouch beside him and grab his collar.

“Touch me again, and I promise you… that’ll be the last thing you ever see.”

He gasps, dazed. Yet even now, he tries to raise a trembling finger.

“M-May Allah have mercy… a demon lives inside you…”

Demon?

No.

I’m pissed.

“I’m calling the police.”

The boys suddenly stand and surround me like zombies from a horror flick. Their movements robotic. Their eyes… lifeless.

“Back off—!”

I throw them off one by one, flipping two over my shoulders, pushing another into the wall. But there’s too many of them. They’re brainwashed. They don’t even know why they’re attacking.

That’s when Wan appears from behind.

He yanks the wooden bird necklace off my chest.

“This isn't Islamic! It’s shirk!! How could you wear something like this?!”

That’s it.

My vision turns red.

(Present-day Alex – narrating):

This was the first time I lost control. The first time I let my rage drown everything… even myself.

I beat them all down.

Even Wan.

He’s trembling now, backed against the wall, face swollen and eyes wide in disbelief.

“You… you’re not normal…”

“You want the necklace? Come and take it. But next time you try this again… I won’t hold back.”

The other kids begin to stir—confused, disoriented.

“Huh? What happened…?”

The trance is broken. The mind control is gone.

That so-called imam wakes up slowly, eyes wide with horror.

“You… demon child… leave… LEAVE!!”

He starts chanting Ayatul Kursi.

I stand tall, stare right back into his soul.

“Allahu la ilaha illa Huwa, Al-Hayyul-Qayyum…”

I continue the verse, fluently—every syllable crisp, my voice calm and unshaken.

“…His Kursi extends over the heavens and the earth… And preserving them does not tire Him. And He is the Most High, the Most Great.”

He steps back, jaw trembling.

“How…? You… you know it…?”

“You call yourself an imam, yet can’t even recite His words properly. Pathetic.”

Suddenly—

The doors burst open.

The old man from earlier enters—Muzaffar, the house elder.

“Alex! Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.”

He nods. Looks around. Sees the mess. The bruised kids. The silent fear. He walks to the imam, now cowering.

“Sharil… you’ve gone too far. Again.”

Wan’s father, Mr. Shah, rushes in right after.

“Wan!! My son, are you okay?!”

Muzaffar raises his hand.

“Don’t thank your son. Thank him.”

He gestures to me.

“That boy saved your child from brainwashing and abuse.”

Mr. Shah looks at me. Embarrassed. Shocked. Maybe even ashamed.

I turn to Wan—who now stares at me with a different look. Not hate. Not superiority.

Just… confusion. And regret.

“You once called me an embarrassment to Malaysians,” I say, walking past. “Maybe you should take a good look at your own reflection first.”

Sirens blare outside.

A police officer, African-American, walks in.

“Everyone okay?”

Muzaffar nods and explains. The imam is cuffed.

Before leaving, the officer stops beside me.

“Assalamualaikum, brother. You alright?”

“Waalaikumsalam. Yeah.”

He smirks, placing a hand on my shoulder.

“You’re one brave son of a gun, y’know that? Appreciate the help.”

“Did what I had to.”

Outside, the sun sets behind the rooftops.

The heat cools. But inside me… something has changed.

I stood for my beliefs. My identity.

And for once… I didn’t feel lost in someone else’s judgment.

(Present-day Alex – narrating):

That was the first time I understood what faith really was… Not blind obedience. Not empty rituals. But standing tall—heart open, fists clenched—when the world tries to crush your voice.

The dust hasn’t even settled when mom walks through the mussolla entrance… cool as ever.

She scans the scene—the chaos, the terrified kids, the broken illusions, Wan sitting against the wall like a shattered mirror of himself.

But she doesn’t flinch.

Not even a blink.

She just crosses her arms and looks at Muzaffar, who stands beside me, rubbing his temples.

“See?” Mom smiles gently. “Told you my son’s not exactly ordinary.”

Huh!? Excuse me!?

“OI!! Aren’t you supposed to be my mom!?”

I nearly trip over the prayer mats, but she just chuckles and walks past me like this is a normal Tuesday.

Hana claps in her baby sling, giggling and cooing at me.

“Gaah! Not you too, Hana!”

Suddenly, Marina and Faiz show up, confused by the tension in the air. They freeze as soon as they lay eyes on the scene.

Bodies still catching their breath.

Wan… pale, muttering like he’s lost in static.

“W-What’s going on here?” Marina whispers.

Wan stares into nothing.

“I… I’m always right… ustaz told me that… I’m chosen… I’m the only one who knows the truth…”

His voice cracks like dry wood.

And that’s when I realize—

This isn’t arrogance anymore. It’s something darker. Like his soul got ripped, and only static was left behind.

Wan—once the loudest voice in the room, the one who mocked, who scoffed—now looks like a broken puppet held together with delusion.

“That’s… intense…” Faiz mutters, backing up.

Mom sighs and gently rubs her arms, watching him with genuine sorrow.

“He’s been brainwashed. It’ll take time… maybe a long time… but he needs help. That… wasn’t his fault.”

Just then, the old man who warned me earlier clears his throat and steps forward.

He gives me a small bow, his voice calm but respectful.

“Forgive the confusion earlier. I’m Jamil… the real imam of this place.”

Wait, what?!

“Hah! About time!!” Muzaffar groans, slapping Jamil on the back hard enough to knock him forward. “Now get back to your job! We’ve got Zuhr coming up! Stop disappearing like a ninja!”

“Yes, yes! I got it, I got it!” Imam Jamil scurries off in a comical dash toward the prayer hall like a student late for his oral presentation.

I blink twice.

Did this just turn into a slice-of-life gag?

Faiz elbows me.

“Wanna help with the prayer setup?”

“Yeah… sure.”

We move quickly—rearranging the saf (rows), folding extra rugs, fixing the qibla angle.

Marina opens the Quran shelf and quietly realigns the books while Hana plays with a tiny prayer hat like it’s a plushie.

Despite everything that just happened—the madness, the violence, the spiritual whiplash—there’s a strange peace now.

Like we hit reset.

As Imam Jamil begins the prayer, his voice calm and deep, the entire musolla slowly transforms back into what it’s meant to be:

A place of peace. A place of healing. A place of faith, not fear.

“Alhamdulillah,” he recites softly, “for the safety You grant this community.”

(Present-day Alex – narrating):

I didn’t ask for this.

To stand between blind belief and madness.

To witness someone like Wan… unravel right in front of me.

But maybe… just maybe… this was my first real test.

And no matter how rough the path gets from here… I’ll walk it.

Even if I have to bleed for it.

Natalie’s Side –

Monday morning.

The sun isn’t shy today. It beams down like a spotlight, as if the universe itself wants to see how this day unfolds.

I stand in front of the mirror, tilting my head.

“Flannel skirt. Long-sleeved white shirt. British style. Check.”

I tug the sleeves slightly, straighten the collar, and take a deep breath. The look I’m going for?

"Classy Oxford student who could debate you into submission."

Perfect.

I sling my satchel and step outside, ready to slay the school runway—when I notice something off.

Where's Luna?

I look around—

And there she is.

With Dino.
Locking lips.
In. Broad. Daylight.
(Kabe-don style!)

“L-LUNA!?”

She casually peels off from Dino and waves at me like she just picked up an ice cream cone.

“Hey Nat~! Mwah~ morning!” she says, twirling her fingers.

“You good?” I ask, still reeling.

“Never better~” she winks.

We walk side by side, and everything feels weird. Not bad. Just... new.

At the school gates, things seem peaceful.

Too peaceful.

Until—
Mylie appears with that smug catwalk stride of hers.

“Ooo~ what’s this? Going full British royal today, huh? Where’s the teacup, Natalie Windsor?”

“Haha. Very original, Mylie.”
I flick my hair back. “Didn’t know basic was still trending.”

She huffs and storms off.

Then—
From the corner of my eye…

I see Wan.

Alone.

Walking slowly through the gate like a ghost without a home. His face… blank. Eyes unfocused. Even his usual gang walks behind him like strangers in their own skin.

“Wan…?” Mylie call softly.

He glances up.
Only briefly.

“Huh...? Yeah…”

Then walks on. Like he didn’t even hear me.

Something’s… really wrong.

Suddenly—
Alex arrives.

With Marina and Faiz, as usual.

Faiz grins and waves.

“Heyyy! Nice touch today, Natalie! British invasion, huh?”

Marina, beaming like a fangirl:

“Oh my gosh!!! That skirt!! Are you trying to kill Alex or what!?”

Huh—wait—what??

Then I see him.

Alex.

Walking slightly ahead.

Hands in pockets. That lazy slouch. That scar peeking beneath his collar.

He glances at me once…
Then turns away.

“Uhh… what?”

Silence hangs.

Tension thickens.

Then—without warning, he mutters under his breath—

“Shut it… yeah… you look… hot.”

…

The world stops.

Like literally.

Gasps echo across the schoolyard like someone hit the emergency alarm.

“HUHHHHHHHHHH!?!?!?!?!?” 😱

Faiz throws his bag into the air like a grenade just dropped.

“EVERYONE TAKE COVER!!! THE APOCALYPSE HAS BEGUN!!!”

Marina dramatically ducks behind a bench:

“SOMEONE SAVE US!!! NATALIE JUST GOT A COMPLIMENT! FROM HIM!”

Luna adds fuel to the chaos:

“Welp! The sky’s falling! I repeat—the sky is falling!!”

Even Ms. White walks out, unfazed but firm:

“All of you—stop dramatizing teenage hormones and GET TO CLASS!”

The crowd scatters.

Leaving only me…

And Alex.

Standing.
Frozen.

Awkward silence.

We glance at each other.

I don’t even know what face I’m making.

Alex shrugs.

“What happened?”

“Uhh… beats me…” he says, walking off with one hand still in his pocket.

But as he turns away…
I catch it.

Just for a second—

A tiny red tint on his ears.

“EHHHH!? Was that—was that BLUSHING!?”

I clutch my chest.
Something fluttering. Something chaotic.

“Nope. Nope. Not today. Not catching feelings. Nuh-uh—”

Faiz appears out of nowhere.

“Yo Natalie… so he’s into British girls, huh~?”

“EHHHHHHHHHHH!?!?!?”

I explode in red.

Luna leaps on my back.

“Wooooo!!! Natalie’s got a loooove confession~ kinda~!”

“STOOOPPPPPP!!!” I scream, dragging her down with me into the whirlpool of embarrassment.

The moment we step into the classroom, the atmosphere shifts.

It's subtle at first—like the wind before a storm. The room feels colder… quieter.

At the front stands Ms. Lockhart, our replacement math teacher. Stern glasses, a resting judgmental face, and an aura that screams "I grade with a vengeance."

But my eyes aren't on her.

They're on Wan.

He sits two rows ahead. His back straight, eyes hollow. A shell of who he used to be. No snide remarks. No smug looks. Just… stillness.

At lunch, he’s walking alone.
His so-called goons trail behind, whispering nervously.

Even Mylie—yes, Queen Mylie—tries to talk to him, but Wan just stares blankly at the ground and keeps walking.

“This isn’t right…”

Something’s seriously wrong.

I turn to Luna beside me. Her expression matches mine—concern, curiosity… suspicion.

“Let’s go to 5-B,” I say.
“Let’s find out what the heck happened.”

We arrive at 5-B. A classroom as noisy and chaotic as usual.

Faiz is sitting with Marina, both in mid-convo and halfway through their bento boxes.

“Hey, Faiz!” I call out, entering like a girl with a mission.

Faiz glances up. “Oh, hey Nat—if you’re looking for Alex, you’re in the wrong class but I saw him outside with the guys, playing soccer.”

“I’m not here for him…”
I cross my arms.

“I need to ask you guys something. Wan—what happened to him? He looks like someone vacuumed out his soul…”

Faiz’s eyes drop to his food. Marina exhales sharply and folds her arms.

That silence. That hesitation. Never a good sign.

“What is it?” I ask, stepping closer.

Marina finally speaks, gently.
“...Because of Alex.”

Huh!?
Wait—WHAT!?

“What did he do now!?”

My fist tightens, and without another word, I storm out.

“Wait! Natalie!!” Faiz calls behind me.

“You’ve got the wrong idea!” Marina shouts.

But I’m already heading straight for the bilingual class courtyard.

The courtyard bursts with life—students kicking up dust as they chase a battered soccer ball across cracked pavement.

And there he is.

Alex.

Hair a bit messy, shirt untucked, and a sharp grin on his face as he dribbles past a stunned defender. His movements are effortless. Controlled chaos.

“HEY!!! ALEX!!!”

Everyone pauses mid-game.

He turns—

And when he sees me, his expression instantly changes.

His smirk vanishes.
His shoulders stiffen.
His ears… turn pink.

Caught red-handed, huh?

He turns away, mumbling.

“Tch… What do you want, Natalie…”

“Look. At. Me!”

I march straight toward him, pulling my jacket off with flair.

Gasps echo around the courtyard.
Boys stop mid-game. Girls peek from the windows.

“What’s going on!?”

“Is this… a confession scene? A fight scene? A new drama episode!?”

“Why is she undressing!?”

“It’s not that kind of story, guys!!” Luna shouts from behind, chasing after me.

“NATALIE WAIT!!” Faiz yells, nearly tripping over his own feet.

But I don’t stop.
I face Alex head-on.

My fists raise into a boxer’s stance—classic footwork, tight guard. Just like Dad taught me.

“If you’ve got the guts to mess with people, then you better have the guts to fight me!!”

The entire courtyard collectively gasps.

Alex freezes.

His brain just blue-screened.

“W-What the heck are you doing!?” he stammers, eyes wide.

I grit my teeth.
“Don’t play dumb!! What did you do to Wan!? He’s broken! He’s EMPTY!! Was it worth it!? Huh!?”

He blinks. Still blushing.
Still confused.

“Huh!? What are you even—!?”

The commotion swells. Everyone’s watching.

Alex sighs, rubs the back of his neck.

Then—with the most nonchalant expression—

“Alright. If you wanna fight, I’ll fight…”

“WAIT—HE AGREED!?!?”

The crowd explodes.

“WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA—!?!”

Luna, Marina, Faiz all scream in unison:

“NOOOOOOOOOO!!!”

I throw a straight jab—sharp, fast, loaded with fury.

Alex leans back, dodging effortlessly, hands still stuffed in his hoodie pockets like he’s too cool for this.

“Oh no you don’t!”

I throw another. Then another. I go full combo-mode. Jab. Hook. Jab again.

He doesn’t even raise a fist.

“WHY AREN’T YOU FIGHTING BACK!?”

He just dodges with that usual annoying calm. Is he enjoying this!?

“Is it because I’m a girl!?” I shout.

That’s when he stops.

His eye twitches.

He lowers his hands.

Something in his brain just snaps.

In the next second—

WHAM.

He suddenly thrusts his hand out—right at my private parts.

😱😱😱

Time freezes.

Everyone gasps.

Luna screams.

Faiz drops his soda can in slow motion.

The background music halts like a broken cassette tape.

Did… did he just…!?!

But then—

I blink.

Nothing. No pain.

I look down…

And see his fist touching it.

He hit me.

He stopped.

But the implication…

THE IMPLICATION!!!

“Y-You… y-you…!!!”

Alex is blushing like mad, his face redder than a chili pepper in a microwave.

“I-I didn’t touch it!! I SWEAR I DIDN’T TOUCH IT!!!”

Luna in the background:

“NATALIE’S HAS ENTERED LEGENDARY STATUS!!”

Faiz screams, rolling on the ground:

“HE’S GONNA DIEEEEE!!!”

I feel my whole body heat up.

Did he really just do that!? In front of the entire school!?

I scream:

“EYYYAAAAHHH!!! YOU IDIOTTTTTTTTTT!!!!”

BOOM!!!

I land a full-powered right hook straight to his chest.

Alex goes flying like a ragdoll, spinning in mid-air like a dramatic anime fall.

THUD.

He hits the ground. Hard.

Everyone is silent.

Luna: “That’s it. He’s dead. Bury him next to the school mascot.”

Faiz: “A moment of silence for our fallen hero…”

Alex, groaning from the ground, raises a weak hand:

“W-Worth it…?”

I’m so red I might actually explode.

WHY AM I FEELING LIKE THIS!? THIS IS WORSE THAN A CONFESSION!!!

I run off, fists clenched, face hotter than lava.

Behind me, chaos reigns.

Teachers are screaming.

But all I can think is—

Why did my heart skip a beat… even after I nearly killed him!?

Principal’s Office – After the Chaos

Well… this is just great.

The fluorescent lights above buzz faintly as the tension in the principal’s office could slice through steel. I sit stiffly on one side of the couch—arms crossed, lips pursed, and trying not to combust from embarrassment. On the floor beside me, Alex is still sprawled out like roadkill, groaning faintly.

“Ugh… my spleen… or my pride… or both…”

I cross my arms tighter, cheeks puffed.
“Well, maybe next time you don’t go punching a girl in the—” I glance away, flustered. “—in the sacred place!!”

Across the desk, Ms. White is furiously scribbling on some disciplinary forms, the pen in her hand moving faster than a speeding ticket in Arizona.

She finally pauses, takes off her glasses, and sighs long and deep.
“So… let me get this straight. Natalie, did Alex… actually touch—”

“Yes,” I interrupt, voice sharp as a guillotine.
“That is exactly what happened. With full force. In public. In front of the whole school.”

Alex weakly lifts a trembling hand from the floor and gives a thumbs up.
“ugh…”

I jab him in the ribs with my toe.
“Sicko.”

Ms. White massages her temple as if trying to suppress a migraine that’s about to evolve into a full-blown earthquake.
“And you both thought it was a good idea to brawl in front of the bilingual class?” she says slowly, emphasizing each syllable like she’s talking to toddlers with firecrackers.

I pout and glance out the window.

“…He started it by not fighting back…”

“You threw the first punch!”

“Because he said I looked—!”
I catch myself.
“Never mind.”

Ms. White sighs again and finally puts the pen down with a thud.
“Both of you. Detention. After school. Today and tomorrow. No protests.”

“Ugh… fine…” I grumble, slouching in my seat.

Alex mumbles from the floor, “Do I get a hospital bed in detention… or just a coffin?”

I slap his arm. “Oh shut up! You literally blushed while doing it! You’re lucky I didn’t throw you into orbit!”

Ms. White closes her notebook and mutters, “Teenagers. I should’ve taken that librarian job…”

She walks out for a second, probably to get some aspirin or a fire extinguisher.

I glance at Alex.

He slowly, painfully, turns his head toward me, eyes half-lidded.
“…You… really went all out, huh?”

I try not to blush.
“You touched the forbidden zone, idiot.”

He smirks, barely.
“I was aiming for your stomach…”

“Well, your hand got detoured!”

A beat of silence.
Then… we both burst out laughing.

The awkward tension melts—just a little. I help him sit up, and even though I’m still mad, I realize something.

Maybe I don’t want to kill him after all.

Maybe.

[Detention Room ]

The air inside the detention room feels thicker than usual. The blinds are half-shut, casting dramatic stripes of light across the dusty floor like we’re in some kind of old-school noir film. But no, it’s just Monday—and here we are… again.

Ms. Forest, towering with that "I-don’t-have-time-for-this" glare, folds her arms and looks directly at us like we’ve burned down the gymnasium.

“Well, well, well… not even school ends and you're already sitting in my lair. Natalie… Alex… not surprising at all.” She arches a brow, clearly unimpressed.

I sit with my arms folded, notebook open, pretending to revise. Alex, still half-dead from the earlier incident, groans beside me like a wounded animal.

Ms. Forest points at him.
“Son, you should be ashamed. Hitting a girl like that?”

Alex winces.
“I… wasn’t even aiming there, I swear. I thought I was going for her gut but—bam!—she moved and then… boom. Pain.”

“So what, you’re saying it didn’t hurt?”

“Uh… I mean… not as much as her punch did…” he mutters while clutching his ribs.

Ms. Forest 🤦🏻

Before she can even lecture him further, the door slams open.

Faiz bursts in with all the flair of a sidekick.
“I volunteer myself as tribute!!” he declares, saluting dramatically.

Everyone stares.

He clears his throat.
“I mean—I told Ms. White that I was the mastermind who convinced Natalie to fight Alex. I demand to serve detention as her moral support!”

“…Faiz, are you trying to be noble or just bored?” I mutter under my breath.

Right behind him is Marina, arms full of books.
“Ms. Forest, I also respectfully request to stay for detention. I… I need quiet time for revision. I have three hyperactive little brothers at home. Triplets.”

Ms. Forest rubs her temples like she’s being offered front-row seats to chaos.

“You two…” she groans. “Fine. But one word out of line, and I’ll throw you into real punishment—cleaning the biology lab. Understood?”

“Yes ma’am!” Faiz and Marina say in unison, taking their seats triumphantly.

I sigh and focus back on my sketchpad, sketching a modern fusion outfit. Marina leans over, whispering as her eyes trail across my lines.

“That's… really cool. It feels futuristic. But what about something traditional? Like… Malaysian-inspired fashion?Maybe a baju kurung with a twist?”

“Huh? I can’t picture it yet, but… I’ll look into it.”

Suddenly, Ms. Forest looms over us like a stern mentor.

“That's a great design, Natalie. But if you're thinking cultural… Alex.”

He groans from where he’s lying on the desk like a dying warrior in a samurai film.

“Huh…?”

“What does Lun Bawang traditional wear look like? You’re from there, right?”

Then.

He does it.

He stands up… and immediately starts undressing.

😱 “W-WHAT THE HECK!?” I scream, slamming my eyes shut with both hands.

Marina shrieks behind me. Faiz nearly drops his water bottle.

Alex, as deadpan as ever, stands in nothing but his ancient, faded underwear.

“Back home,” he says like he’s doing a TED talk, “we usually wear loincloths. Maybe bark-fiber vests. Feathers. You know, tribal stuff.”

Ms. Forest’s soul visibly leaves her body.
She walks over and bonks him on the head with a rolled-up attendance list.

“FOOLISH BOY!!” she yells. “I meant describe it, not demonstrate it! Put your clothes on before I call your mother!”

“…Oh.” Alex scratches his head and starts dressing again. “Right. Miscommunication.”

All of us: 😑

I just slump over my sketchpad and mutter, “Why… is he like this?”

Marina nudges me.
“You sure he’s not some kind of ancient forest spirit or something?”

Faiz snickers, “He’s definitely not normal. But hey… he’s our chaos gremlin.”

Alex finally sits back down, fully clothed and acting like nothing happened.

Ms. Forest sighs for what must be the twentieth time today.
“You’re all insane. But at least… you’re honest about it.”

And just like that… detention resumes. As peaceful as detention could be, with a half-conscious wild boy, a fashion nerd, a nosy genius, and the world’s loudest wingman all in one room.

I focus hard on my sketchpad, tuning out the babble around me. Pencil glides across the page—lace trimming, a high collar, ruffled cuffs… British elegance with a modern twist. Just as I’m about to add the finishing touch—bam!

Alex suddenly leans in, his face practically glowing.
“Whoa… NICE DRESS!!” His eyes sparkle like a shonen protagonist discovering his true power-up. 🤩

I slam the sketchbook shut.
“SHUT IT!!” I hiss, cheeks turning an aggressive shade of crimson.

“Hey! Why!?” He reaches for the book like a bratty five-year-old.

“No! Not for everyone! You think I’m gonna show you just like that!?”
We’re not in kindergarten, but he’s acting like we are.

Before he can whine any further—THWACK!

Marina whacks him on the head with a rolled-up worksheet.
“Dumbass!!”

Ms. Forest immediately scolds without even turning her head.
“Language.”

“Oh! Sorry, Ms. Forest!” Marina bows, totally unfazed.

Alex rubs his head, still grinning like a golden retriever who got caught stealing snacks. Then suddenly—he marches to the blackboard.

Ms. Forest squints.
“What now, son?”

“Umm… wait! I got an idea…”

He grabs a piece of chalk and starts drawing, lines appearing fast and messy—yet strangely passionate. His sketch is rough, but somehow… charming?

“Huh…” I lean closer. It's kind of gaudy… but something about it feels nostalgic.

“Hey Faiz,” Marina nudge him, “Isn’t that… baju kebaya?”

Faiz perks up like someone just mentioned free food.
“Yeah! Totally!! I’ve seen it in those old P. Ramlee movies—like Seniman Bujang Lapok!”

Marina lights up.
“OMG, yes! I love that film! So chaotic!”

Alex nods like a historian presenting a thesis.
“That design was everywhere in Pendekar Bujang Lapok. They wore it like—like with style, but full of character.”

Ms. Forest suddenly lights up.
“Now that you mention it… I had a Malaysian intern once. She shared a bunch of old films. Wait here…”

She rummages through her storage cabinet like a wizard searching for a lost scroll, then triumphantly pulls out—

A CRT TV on wheels.

And on it? A VHS player.

“NO WAY!!!” Faiz gasps.

Marina’s eyes widen.
“Is that Pendekar Bujang Lapok!?”

Alex, practically levitating in excitement:
“YESSS!! That’s the one!!”

Ms. Forest smiles like she’s finally figured out how to control the wild pack of misfits.

“Well then… since you kids are at least trying to be productive—and only slightly deranged—let’s watch.”

The tape clicks in, the static fuzz fills the screen, and suddenly—black and white nostalgia fills the room.

Even I can’t help but watch as three goofy guys bumble their way across the screen, full of chaotic energy and exaggerated movements.

Alex, of course, becomes the live translator.

“So here, the three friends—Ramli, Sudin, and Ajis—basically vagabonds, yeah? They try to become warriors under this old-school master—”

“Stop narrating the whole movie, you spoiler machine!!!” Faiz pelts him with a crumpled paper ball.

We all laugh. Even Ms. Forest chuckles softly behind her notebook.

“This is actually… hilarious,” she murmurs.

I glance sideways at Alex, who’s watching the movie like it’s sacred scripture. His eyes gleam with something I can’t describe—pride, maybe? A connection to home?

Then I turn back to the movie, now noticing the subtle embroidery, the way the outfits flow, the soul in every thread. I sketch silently, capturing those curves, layering old styles with new thoughts.

This… this might just work.

Alex leans toward me again, this time less annoying, more thoughtful.
“Could you… try fusing this with something modern?”

“…Maybe.” I don’t look at him, but my cheeks burn slightly. “If you stop drooling all over the chalkboard…”

He snorts.

And somehow, detention doesn’t feel like punishment anymore. It feels like the beginning of something… creative. Or something more.

Pencil in hand, I stare at the blank page. A faint breeze slips through the open window, rustling my sketchbook. Then—like a spark igniting paper—inspiration hits me.

Flowing lines. Elegant patterns. A soft fusion of modern chic and traditional charm.

My hand moves faster than thought, breathing life into fabric that doesn’t even exist yet. A long flowing skirt with floral batik motifs, a mandarin collar blouse trimmed with lace…

Soft but proud. Beautiful and bold.

I glance to my right—Alex is lazily watching the old Malay film, still chuckling to himself. I lean closer and whisper, “I think… this would work.…”

His eyes flick toward my sketchpad. They widen like saucers.

“Whoa…” he breathes. “That’s… kinda amazing. I’d love to see one of the girls wear this. Hey, Marina—come here.”

Marina leans over my shoulder, her black ponytail swinging.

“Yeah… that definitely screams Malaysian. Oh wait—” She flashes Alex a playful grin. “If i ever wear this, treat it like a date.”

“Wait—Huh!?” I look between them, blinking. What’s happening here?

Does… Marina have a thing for Alex? No—no way. Right?

Before I can overthink it, Faiz nudges Alex with a teasing elbow.

“Bro, seriously. This could be awesome for our Eid celebration!”

I blink again.
“Eid?”

Marina explains gently, “A big celebration at the end of Ramadhan—we fast for a whole month. Eid is like a reward after that.”

“Ohhh…” I nod slowly, intrigued. “You fast… like, no food?”

Ms. Forest, arms crossed and eyes twinkling with curiosity, chimes in.
“I heard from my old intern that fasting's not just about food, right?”

“Yeah,” Marina nods. “You also hold back your anger, your desires… it’s cleansing. If you do it sincerely, all your sins get forgiven.”

Faiz lets out a groan. “Ugh, yeah, but it’s tough, man…”

THWACK!
Marina smacks him with her textbook.

“Dumbass! That’s the whole point! You want spiritual rewards, you gotta work for them!”

We all laugh softly. Even Ms. Forest smiles behind her glasses.

Then her gaze shifts to Alex. “What about you, son? Do you fast?”

He shrugs modestly, scratching his head.
“Yeah… I’ve been fasting since I was like… five? Maybe six? Mom insisted. But it’s dad who taught me the why behind it. He’d read parts of the Quran with me and explain what it means to be strong—not just outside, but inside.”

There’s a different tone in his voice now. Not just casual. Not dramatic either. Just… real.

Even Faiz seems impressed.

“Alright then, how the heck do you control your anger while fasting? You know it breaks your fast, right?”

Alex leans back with a tired groan. “It’s… hard, man. But Mom had this system.”

“What kind of system?”

He raises a finger. “The ‘Mom Ultimatum System’.”

All of us: “Huh?”

“Basically,” Alex grins, “if I got mad or lost control, something would disappear from my bedroom.”

Marina tilts her head. “What kind of things?”

He counts with his fingers. “First offense—study table gone. Second—no dinner. Third—no mattress. Fourth—good luck finding your toothbrush.”

All of us: 😅😅😅

“Last year, she made me sleep outside… with nothing but a camping mat and one banana.”

I slowly set my pencil down, staring at him like he’s some mythical creature.

“Your mom’s kinda intense.”

He nods back, but there’s a flicker of frustration twitching at the corner of his eye.

“She’s one thing, alright—Sabahan. That means half mom… and half military-grade war general.”

His voice is dead serious, like he’s still recovering from emotional trauma.

Ms. Forest nearly chokes on her coffee, stifling a laugh behind her hand.

“Well,” she says with a smirk, pushing up her glasses, “that explains a lot… especially why you’re always just a little bitchaotic.”

Alex raises a brow. “Little bit?”

Marina and Faiz exchange glances, smirking.

“You’re the final boss of chaos.” they say in perfect sync.

The room erupts in laughter. Even Ms. Forest can't help but chuckle, shaking her head while scribbling something in her logbook.

“Honestly,” she says with a sigh, “this detention room is starting to feel more like a film club.”

As the movie fades to black and the old tape clicks out of the player, silence briefly settles over the room like a warm blanket. Ms. Forest turns around from the TV cart, folding her arms.

“So?” she asks, raising an eyebrow. “Thoughts on Pendekar Bujang Lapok?”

Faiz stretches, hands behind his head. “Kinda silly at first glance, but there’s actually a deep moral undercurrent. Like, each gag hides a lesson.”

I lean forward, tapping my pencil against my sketchpad. “True… but it’s also just a really funny movie. The timing is brilliant.”

Then Alex, sitting cross-legged with his back to the wall, speaks up—his tone unexpectedly calm, even thoughtful.

“It’s not just about laughs,” he says. “It’s about society—how people look down on others who are uneducated. But with knowledge, everything changes. That’s what makes the underdogs in the movie so powerful in the end.”

Everyone’s quiet for a moment.

Marina nods. “Yeah… and you can tell P. Ramlee wanted to inspire the younger generation. He was showing that imagination matters—especially in a place like Malaysia where people often stick to tradition and don’t dream big.”

Faiz grins. “You know what part hit me the most? How they called out corruption—but in such a smart, funny way. The way the whole community stood up together? That’s real strength.”

Ms. Forest gives a genuine smile, eyes softening behind her glasses.

“You all surprised me,” she says. “To see a group of students find depth and meaning from an old black-and-white film… It gives me hope.”

Alex shrugs, leaning his head back against the wall. “Stories don’t need CGI or explosions to be powerful. Just truth… and maybe some banana peels.”

We all laugh again.

The atmosphere is lighter now, like the tension from earlier has melted away. The kind of warmth that comes after a storm—or after understanding something bigger than ourselves.

I glance sideways at Alex.

For a guy who acts like a total idiot most of the time… sometimes, he says things that hit harder than expected.

Faiz leans forward, elbows on the desk, clearly struggling with how to explain something heavy.

“Umm… okay, here goes,” he mutters.

But before he can continue, Marina gently cuts in, sitting down beside me, her tone soft but serious.

“Well… about Wan. He’s actually a good guy,” she begins, her voice slightly hesitant. “It’s just that…”

“—He got brainwashed,” Faiz blurts out, crossing his arms.

“Brainwashed!?” I repeat, almost too loudly, my eyes widening. “What the heck are you talking about!?”

“Yeah… I know it sounds like something from a sci-fi movie,” Faiz says with a nervous chuckle, “but this is real.”

Marina nods, her eyes downcast. “A self-proclaimed imam showed up in our community a while ago. Said he wanted to ‘guide’ people back to the true path. But what he was really doing… was isolating the kids. Teaching them weird stuff. Telling them that they were ‘chosen’... and that everyone else was impure.”

I sit there, stunned. A cold chill creeps up my spine.

“…My mom heard rumors,” Marina continues, “and she warned me to stay away from that musolla. Said something felt off. The elders tried to step in, to talk to the guy. But every time… nothing changed. He just got more aggressive. More controlling.”

I try to digest it. The quiet, almost lifeless expression I saw in Wan’s eyes this morning… suddenly makes a horrible kind of sense.

“That’s awful…” I whisper. “But… where does Alex fit into all this?”

That’s when Faiz exchanges a knowing look with Marina. Something shifts in their expression—a mix of awe and unease.

“Alex… he’s different,” Faiz says, voice low. “He didn’t even flinch. He walked in, figured something was off, and confronted the guy.”

“He beat him down,” Marina adds quietly, eyes flickering. “I mean… not just the imam. He fought through, like, twenty kids. Alone. Most of them didn’t even realize what they were doing.”

I feel my chest tighten. “He fought… them all?”

“Yeah,” Faiz confirms. “And the weirdest part… he didn’t even seem scared. Just focused. Like he’s done this before.”

Present time Natalie narrating

A memory flashes in my mind—Alex standing under the sun, bruised, silent, unreadable. The way he avoided my eyes earlier… the way he blushes and hides it with attitude…

That’s not just teenage awkwardness. That’s something deeper.

“But after everything,” Marina says gently, “he didn’t brag. He didn’t even tell us what really happened. Just said he needed to get home and change Hana’s diaper.”

I blink.

“…Seriously?”

They both nod. Faiz chuckles. “Wild one moment, deadpan the next.”

Marina leans toward me slightly. “But Nat… I think there’s more to Alex than even he admits. He’s carrying something. A past maybe. Something heavy.”

I stay quiet.

And in that silence… for the first time, I realize that maybe I don’t know Alex at all.

But I want to.

[Afterschool – Detention Ends]

Ms. Forest claps her hands together with that strict-but-weary expression she’s always got near dismissal time.

“Alright then,” she says. “Alex and Natalie—you two are still in for another day of detention. But Faiz and Marina… you’re done after today. Got it?”

Faiz raises a hand lazily, stretching. “Fine by me. One day in hell is enough for a lifetime.”

Marina smiles warmly. “It’s okay, Ms. Forest. Thanks for letting me stay today.”

[Present Time – Natalie’s Narrating]

I watch her from the corner of my eye.

Marina… She’s not just my childhood best friend. Not just the girl who pulled me through my roughest days, alongside Mariam. She’s—she’s…

…I stop myself.
Some memories are just too painful to reopen.
Not yet.

As the school bell rings and students spill out into the warm orange glow of early evening, we exit too. I look around.

Luna’s gone. No sign of her since lunch.
Maybe… she had something to do. Or maybe she’s with Dino. Again.

I don’t know why… but I feel the weight of loneliness creeping in. A strange hollowness.

The others start to head off.

Marina suddenly calls out over her shoulder, “Hey guys! Come on!!”
She waves at Alex and Faiz—then jogs up beside me.
Alex and Faiz tag along, and now the four of us walk together down the sidewalk. My home isn’t far, just around the block.

But despite their laughter and chatter behind me… I still feel like I’m walking alone.

When we finally reach my front yard, my mom waves from the porch. “Hey, Nat! Where’s Luna?”

“Umm…” I rub the back of my neck. “Yeah… about that…”

“Detention, huh?” Dad steps out with a mug in hand, his eyebrow raised in perfect dad-mode.

“Y-Yeah…”

He stifles a chuckle. “Well then, guess we’ll be hearing about that later.”

Marina, ever the polite one, gives a respectful bow. “Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Hawk. We’ll see you later!”

Faiz follows with a grin, throwing a peace sign. “Later, Nat!”

Alex… doesn’t say anything. He just turns slightly, not meeting my eyes. His hands are buried in his pockets, his shoulders slightly hunched.

That… tsundere jerk.
But—
…I find myself looking at him longer than I meant to.

He doesn’t look back.

“Come on,” Mom nudges Dad and says in a too-loud whisper, “Did you see that, honey?”

Dad smirks behind his mug. “Uh-huh. Something’s definitely going on.”

“Mom!! Dad!!” I shout, cheeks flaring bright red.

They both laugh.

And as I watch Alex’s back growing smaller in the distance, walking beside Marina and Faiz…

…I sigh quietly.

That’s what happened today.

But somehow, it feels like everything’s just beginning.

To be continued