—
“Hey hey!” The girl at my door chirped, flashing double peace signs and a contagious smile that reached her eyes.
“You’re back,” I said, unable to hide the small smile creeping onto my face. Before I could say more, she flung her arms around me, nearly knocking me over.
“Yes, I am! Hazel, did you miss me that much?” she teased, pulling back just enough to pout dramatically while still holding my hands.
“Maybe a little,” I admitted, turning away to hide the blush rising in my cheeks. I sighed and shook my head. “Come in.”
She paused as I glanced back and caught her smiling warmly at me.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing,” she said, stepping inside. But after only a few steps, her playful expression shifted to surprise.
The desk in the corner was a battleground of open textbooks, scattered notes, and highlighted passages. It was evident that I had been deep in study mode before she came.
“That’s… a lot,” she said, hesitating as she slowly stepped back toward the door. “Hazel, you’ve really outdone yourself this time.”
The sound of the lock clicking behind her caused her to freeze. She turned to see me leaning against the door, hand on the handle, a smile on my face. A smile that seemed to send shivers down her spine.
“Exams are next week,” I said sweetly. “And I’m sure you didn’t study at all while you were home, did you?”
“Wait, Hazel,” she laughed nervously, inching backwards. “I swear I worked really hard at home! I studied. Plus, I just got back. Can’t I have a few hours to relax? You know, ease into things?”
I said nothing. The silence stretched, and her smile faded into panic.
“Hazel, please.”
“Grab my algebra notes. Now,” I said, my smile widening.
Her eyes widened. “NOOOO!”
“Three hours,” I said cheerfully, pulling out the chair and motioning for her to sit. “You’ll thank me when you ace the exams.”
“I’ll hate you long before that happens,” she muttered, slumping into the chair.
—
—
“I can’t believe all that happened, and I missed it,” Diya said, taking a bite of the chocolate stick she’d brought as I recounted the past two weeks she’d been away.
“Don’t worry about it,” I replied, reclining in my chair with arms folded. “We’ll handle everything.”
I knew Diya well enough to anticipate what would happen next. She’d undoubtedly offer to help, not saying that I would not ask if I needed it, especially when it came to socially interacting with others.
“Besides,” I added, “you’ve got exams to worry about.”
Diya let out a dramatic sigh and flopped onto my bed. “I told you I studied at home,” she whined.
I had my doubts. Based on past experiences, her version of was probably a blend of last-minute cramming and naps.
“Forget it,” I said, waving the thought away. “We’ve got algebra and social studies first. I want you to do well.”
She pulled out her phone and unlocked it. “You sound like my mom,” she teased. “Oh, right, look at this picture of the little ones!”
Curious, I leaned closer as she held the phone out to me. The screen showed her with three young kids, all grinning. If I remember right, her cousins were around three to five years old.
“Marcus asked me to send him pictures,” she said, thumbs flying as she forwarded them. “I’ll send them to you, too.”
Marcus. Hearing her mention his name sent a ripple of emotions through me, emotions I didn’t quite know how to name. He and Diya had always been close. She was close enough to him to feel comfortable sharing these moments. Of course, it was Diya. She’d share with anyone if they asked, but still...
“Diya?”
She perked up, tilting her head. “Yeah?”
“What’s your opinion on Marcus?”
She blinked, caught off guard. “Marcus? He’s fun to hang out with.”
Not quite the in-depth response I was hoping for, but I nodded nonetheless. “Yeah. I guess you’re right,” I murmured, my mind drifting to the memories I shared with him.
“Why’d you ask, though?” Diya pressed, sitting up on the bed.
“Well,” I paused, thinking, “Given how close the two of you are, I just wanted to know what you thought about him.”
“Oh,” she said, then suddenly launched herself at me, wrapping her arms around my neck. “Don’t worry, Hazel! You’ll always be my favourite!”
Her unexpected affection caught me off guard as she rubbed her face against my chest, and I staggered slightly, struggling to maintain my balance. “Alright, alright,” I chuckled, gently pushing her away.
Moments like these reminded me how fortunate I was to have her. Without her, the past ten years would’ve been unbearably lonely.
“That reminds me,” she said abruptly. “There’s a party tomorrow. Want to come with me?”
I gave her a flat look, folding my arms. This girl is too carefree. “You can’t be serious. Exams are starting on Monday. You just got back today, and you’re already—” I sighed.
“It’s Yamada-senpai’s birthday,” she explained. “She personally invited me since it’s been a while since we’ve hung out.”
“Yamada Hoshi,” I muttered, recalling her name. She was the school’s track star, a prodigy who had even caught the attention of the Japanese national team. A key figure in Class 1, she was one of the decision-makers for their class. “Who else is invited to this?”
Diya tapped her chin, thinking. “Not sure. Probably mostly Year 12. But hey, you don’t talk to them much, so you can use me as your shield!”
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I raised an eyebrow. “You’re saying this like I’m actually thinking of going,” I remarked dryly, watching her scratch the back of her head.
“Well,” she began, drawing the word out with a sheepish smile. “You usually would’ve just declined by now. But you’re asking questions. That means something, doesn’t it?”
She was sharp when she wanted to be, and now was one of those times. Normally, I would’ve declined without hesitation, but considering the situation with Robin, this party might be my chance to connect with some seniors.
“God damn it, why do I feel like I might regret this later?” I muttered under my breath.
Diya’s eyes lit up, and she leaned in eagerly. “If you feel that way, does that mean…?”
She left the question hanging in the air, her tone coaxing me to say it aloud.
“Alright,” I said, waving my hand. “I'll come with you.”
Diya cheered loudly, raising her hands like she’d won a championship. She bounced on the balls of her feet before rushing over to grab my arm, shaking it enthusiastically. “Yes! I knew you’d say yes!”
This was all for Marcus. He was counting on me, and I needed to deliver. As for the party, I’d need to formulate a plan with Diya since she was here.
—
—
I lay sprawled on my bed, one arm draped over my eyes, trying to relax after hours of reading. My mind had just begun to drift when my phone buzzed. Grumbling, I reached blindly for it on the nightstand. Harley’s name lit up the screen.
“Hazel, I’m sorry if I’m disturbing you,” she began, her voice hesitant.
I sat up slightly, leaning against the headboard. “It’s fine. I wasn’t doing anything important. What’s up?”
There was a pause and some background shuffling, then her voice came again. “I wanted to ask... is there any way we can stop Cohen’s expulsion? This can’t be it, right?”
The guilt was getting to her, and it seems she was desperate at this point.
I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “Honestly, I don’t know. The school’s already made their decision. I’m not sure they’d even consider a retrial.”
“The whole thing is eating me alive,” she said, voice cracking. “I know we deserved to be punished, but he’s the only one being blamed when it was a majority-class decision to go along with this. And the worst part? A lot of people are happy about it…like he deserves it. But…”
She trailed off, and I swung my legs over the side of the bed, feet pressing against the cool floor. “What’s your relationship with him?”
The level of concern she was showing made it seem like they were more than just classmates.
“We’re just acquaintances,” she said quickly. “I never really talked to him before. I just… I get attached to people. That’s all.”
That satisfied my curiosity. “Let me ask you this,” I said, moving to lean against the desk. “Would you still feel guilty if your plan had worked? You manipulated us, leaked election plans, and sabotaged us. Would it have hit you the same way?”
“I did feel guilty,” she murmured. “But this is different. That was an election. This is someone’s future. If you were me, which would weigh more?”
I paused. She wasn’t wrong; expulsion was far more serious than losing a vote.
“But why come to me?” I asked, crossing my arms since she could have gone to Marcus instead.
She hesitated before answering. “I was venting to my best friend, and she told me that if anyone could come up with a way to help, it’d be you. That you’d figure something out.”
Her words brought a small smile to my lips, a faint warmth rising at the thought of someone having that much faith in me. Whether I could live up to it was another matter.
“I know I don’t have the right to ask this,” she said, her voice trembling. “But please... if there’s any way to help Cohen, I have to try. I can’t live with the guilt if I don’t.”
The situation was complicated, and I could very easily stay out of it. But still…
“I know I’m putting you in a tight spot. I’m sorry,” she added.
“I get where you’re coming from,” I said. “I’ll think about it and see what I can do.” It was the best I could offer until I figured out my next step.
“Thank you. Goodnight, Hazel.”
“Goodnight,” I replied, and the call ended.
I flopped back on my bed, my thoughts racing. The school had already made its decision. Could I even do anything? If new evidence were presented, would it make a difference?
I hesitated, thumb hovering over the screen. Should I answer? After a brief moment, I exhaled and answered.
“You actually picked up,” a male voice said. “I’m glad. Hazel, it’s Cohen.”
I sat upright, surprised. Cohen? Why was he calling me so late, and how did he get my number?
“I have to admit, I’m surprised,” I said cautiously.
“Makes sense. I got your number from Harley,” he replied, as if anticipating the question.
A flash of irritation passed through me. I was annoyed that Harley had given out my number without telling me. Nonetheless, I ignored the feeling and focused on the call.
“I’ll keep this short,” Cohen continued. “We need to meet and talk about my expulsion. Maybe figure out a way to stop it.”
“What?” I blurted. The timing felt too convenient, especially after my earlier conversation with Harley. If he wanted to meet, it likely wasn’t going to be a short talk.
“What exactly do you have in mind?” I asked, bracing myself for whatever came next.
“Simple,” he said after a pause. “I might have to tell them the bullying was fake.”
I blinked, the weight of his words sinking in. He was considering admitting to a lie that had already caused serious damage.
“Are you sure about this?” I asked.
“That’s the thing,” he said, voice uncertain. “I’m not. That’s why I need your help to brainstorm this. To figure out if this is even the right move.”
My grip on the phone tightened. Why me? Of all people, why was he asking me?
“You can bring Marcus if you want,” Cohen added. “Though I plan to talk to him later. Even though we're... not exactly on good terms.”
That explained part of the mystery. He wasn’t going to Marcus first because of tension between them, though it didn’t sound too serious. Still, his wording made it seem like he preferred this conversation without him. If that was the case…
“Alright, where are we meeting?” I said.
—
—
From a distance, I spotted Cohen on the bridge, leaning against the railing, staring into the moonlit water. The faint rustle of leaves in the cool night breeze seemed to reflect the unease in my chest as I approached.
Hearing my footsteps, he looked up. “You actually came without him.”
I paused, suddenly second-guessing my choice to come alone. Did he expect Marcus to be with me?
“Yes. I did,” I said, keeping a safe distance.
“So, are you really going to tell everyone the bullying was fake?” I asked, cutting to the chase.
Cohen pushed off the railing and turned completely to face me, eyes locked on mine. “I thought it’d stop the expulsion,” he said quietly. “But now... that's not possible anymore.”
“Why?”
“Yesterday, I told Mr Taichi everything—the fake bullying, all of it. Do you know what he said?” His gaze dropped back to the water, his face obscured by the angle.
“I... I’m sorry,” I said, unsure what else to offer. His situation was undoubtedly grim, but I couldn’t shake the growing sense that there was something more pressing to address. “Then why call me here?”
Cohen straightened, his eyes hardening. He stepped toward me, and I instinctively backed away.
“Think of this as my final act,” he whispered.
Before I could fully process what he meant, he lunged. His hand shot out, grabbing my wrist with an iron grip. In one rapid sweep, he yanked me toward him, shoving me hard against the low railing of the bridge. The impact knocked the breath from me.
I gasped, struggling against his grip, but his strength was overwhelming. I planted my feet and pushed, but it was like trying to move a wall.
“What are you doing?” I growled. “Let me go!”
He stayed silent, his grip causing a sharp, unyielding pain to surge up my arm. What was he trying to do? What did he want? I thought about staying calm but feared it would only make things worse. Did he want me to beg?
“Do you really want to do this in front of the cameras?” I warned, despite my shaking voice. Expulsion was the worst the school could do, but surely there were harsher consequences for assault. I needed to make him—
My thoughts scattered as a wave of pain exploded through my abdomen. The breath was knocked from my lungs, and my vision blurred as I collapsed to the ground, coughing as I fought to regain control of my breathing.
He was right. The pain in my abdomen was unbearable, but I had to find a way out of this. I grabbed the railing, trying to stand, but he yanked me back by the hair. I cried out, clawing at his hand, desperate to loosen his grip, but it only made things worse. It felt like my scalp was being torn apart.
I thought about screaming for help, but maybe that’s what he wanted. Why else do this out in the open? It was nearly 10 PM, and most students were indoors studying for exams. My vision blurred as he pulled harder, tears spilling down my cheeks.
“HAZEL!”
I opened my eyes at the sound of my name. He stood at the end of the bridge, gasping for breath as if he'd run all the way from his dorm. How did he know I was here?
“Finally, you show up,” Cohen sneered, yanking my hair one last time before slamming me into the railing. I slumped against it, my body wracked with pain. Every movement sent a fresh surge of agony through me, but I still managed to speak.
“Marcus…”