The morning after the holiday had this buzz to it—like the whole school was shaking off sleep at once. Kids crowded near the gates, laughing too loud, swapping stories about the festival or complaining about homework they didn't finish. The sky was sharp blue, the kind that made the air feel cleaner, almost like fall was creeping in.
Grace walked up slow, clutching her books tight. Her head was still full of the weekend—Sophia's laugh, the lanterns, that little pocket of warmth she wasn't used to feeling. The festival was over, but the glow kind of stuck, softening the weight she usually carried.
"Grace!"
Sophia came barreling toward her, waving like crazy, her bag bouncing against her hip. Ryan followed a few steps behind, carrying his backpack on one strap the way he always did.
"You're so slow," Sophia teased, grabbing Grace's arm. "Thought you got lost in your own head again."
Grace gave a small smile. "Maybe I did."
"Thinking about food?" Ryan cut in, grinning. "Because I'm still recovering from that death-skewer Sophia forced on me. My tongue was numb for an hour."
Sophia laughed so hard she bent over. "You were about to cry! But hey, you lived."
Grace actually laughed too—quiet, but real.
When they got to the classroom, Andrew was already by the window, sitting like he'd been there forever. He looked up when they walked in, gave this small, easy smile.
"You're early," Ryan said, flopping into his chair.
Andrew shrugged. "Couldn't sleep. Came in for some air."
Sophia leaned on her desk, grinning. "Or maybe you just wanted to sit here looking all mysterious."
Andrew rolled his eyes, but his mouth twitched like he was trying not to smile. "You think too much."
They slipped into their usual rhythm, lighter than the dull hum of the classroom. Sophia pulled out her phone and showed them a blurry shot of the lanterns floating in the night sky.
"Look at this," she said, eyes bright. "Doesn't it look like stars you can actually touch?"
Grace leaned in. "It does," she admitted. The picture was grainy, but the memory hit clear. Standing under those lights, she hadn't felt invisible for once.
Ryan nudged Andrew. "You were the one who nailed that ring toss, right? Don't tell me that was just luck."
Andrew looked a little embarrassed. "Lucky throw."
"Lucky?" Sophia scoffed. "You crushed it in one try. That's skill."
Grace remembered that too—Andrew handing her the prize, telling her she should keep it. Just thinking about it made her chest warm.
The conversation wandered after that—Ryan clowning about his tragic attempt at dancing when the music kicked on, Sophia ranting about how she nearly drowned herself trying to win a goldfish, and Grace quietly joining in, even admitting how she almost face-planted over a lantern cord before Andrew steadied her.
It felt normal. Ordinary. Which made it weirdly special for Grace.
Morning classes flew by, softened by little jokes and glances between them. Grace caught herself smiling without meaning to, which surprised her every time.
Then lunch break crept closer, and everything shifted.
It started as a murmur at the back. Two kids whispering, cutting their eyes toward Andrew. Then more leaned in. The sound crawled across the room, hushed but sharp.
Grace noticed first. The way heads tilted, the way voices dropped when Andrew moved past.
"What's going on?" Sophia muttered, frowning.
"Rumor," Ryan said, scowling. "But about what?"
They didn't have to wonder long.
"I heard from a friend at his old school," a girl said, voice pitched just loud enough. "He got in trouble for stalking a girl."
The words cracked through the air. A couple kids gasped. Whispers stacked on top of it like kindling.
"Seriously?"
"Kinda figured—he's strange."
"Yeah, my cousin said the same thing."
Grace's stomach dropped. She glanced at Andrew. He sat stiff, jaw tight, pencil digging so hard into his fist it looked like it might snap. His face was blank, but every line in his posture screamed that he heard it.
The whispers got uglier.
"Creepy, isn't it?"
"Do you think he'll do it again?"
"Poor Grace, she has to sit near him."
"Bet that's why he stares out the window—pretending not to watch."
Sophia smacked her desk so hard the nearby group jumped. "Shut up," she snapped, fire in her eyes. "You don't know him. Stop spreading crap."
The room quieted for a beat, but it didn't stick. The whispers slithered back, quieter now, but everywhere.
Grace's pulse hammered. She remembered what Andrew told her—that he wasn't some stalker, just a kid who tried to tell a girl the truth about her boyfriend. How it twisted into something else. He carried that weight alone, and now it was following him here, poisoning the space he had barely settled into.
By the end of the day, it felt like the whole class had inhaled the rumor. Eyes clung to Andrew longer than before, voices dipped whenever he passed. No one said it to his face, but the judgment was loud enough.
Grace watched him pack his things. His face gave away nothing, but she could feel the wall he was building, brick after brick.
Her throat tightened. She wanted to tell him she believed him, that she knew he wasn't what they said. But the words just sat there, heavy and stuck.
The final bell rang. Andrew walked out alone.
And the rumor stayed behind, thicker than the air itself, already growing with every retelling.