The notice had gone up at the start of revision week:
"Debate Groups — Final Assessment Prep. Attendance Mandatory."
Nobody thought much of it until they saw the names.
Kylie skimmed down the list posted outside the lecture theatre, her eyes widening. Devon. Iver. Raya. Chloe. Petrina. Malik. All lumped together under Group C.
She glanced at Devon across the corridor, his face unreadable, jaw clenched. Raya was already sidling closer to him, smirking like the principal had just done her the biggest favour of the year.
"Fam, nah," Malik muttered behind them, peering at the sheet. "This is a setup, init."
"It's not that deep," Petrina said, though even she sounded unsure.
Kylie folded her arms. "Principal's tryna make a point. Mixing us up so we learn to 'co-operate.'"
"Allow it," Devon muttered. "It's peak already."
Then comes the Debate.
The topic was sharp enough to cut anyone in half: "Uniformity vs. Expression . The Case for Dress Code."
The principal himself sat in the front row, nodding like this was the hill he was ready to die on. Professors lined the back wall. Students packed the aisles, waiting to see which group would combust first.
By some cruel stroke of fate, Kylie and Iver had been assigned to argue against the dress code. Devon and Raya had to defend it.
"Typical," Kylie whispered under her breath as she shuffled her notes.
"You got this," Iver said beside her, flashing that calm grin of his.
She smiled back, just for a moment, before the moderator called time.
Devon stood first, shoulders squared, voice steady. "Uniforms level the field, innit. No one gets gassed over designer trainers or fresh fits. It's about focus on education first."
Raya jumped in smoothly, her eyes flicking to Devon like she was syncing herself with him. "Exactly. Without rules, it's chaos. No discipline. No respect. School ain't a fashion show."
The crowd gave a mix of groans and claps.
Kylie stood, fire in her chest. "Rules are fine, yeah, but not when they're stifling. We're not robots, sir." She nodded at the principal. "Expression matters. Creativity matters. If you cage students, don't be shocked when they break out."
The students cheered, stomping feet against the floor.
Iver stepped in, calm but firm. "Uniforms don't fix inequality. They just mask it. If someone's struggling, a blazer ain't gonna change their pockets, bruv. Real equity means support, not fabric."
A wave of "Facts!" rolled through the crowd.
Devon's fists curled against the podium. "You're chatting breeze. Support comes through structure. Without discipline, we're dust. You think life outside cares about your 'expression'? Nah. It cares about whether you can graft, stay in line, deliver."
His eyes flicked, just briefly, to Kylie. And for a heartbeat, it wasn't the principal he was arguing with it was her.
Kylie tilted her head, lips tight. "Nah, Dev. What you're defending ain't discipline. It's control. And control? That's fear in a suit."
The room exploded half cheering, half booing.
The debate ended without a clear winner. But the tension didn't stop at the stage.
Then, Protest begun;
By sundown, posters went up across campus:
"NO TO DRESS CODES. YES TO FREEDOM."
The next morning, hundreds of students marched outside the principal's office. At first it was peaceful chants, banners, music blasting off portable speakers.
But then the school hooligans showed up. Windows shattered. Chairs went flying. Someone set a bin alight, and by the time it hit the cafeteria, flames licked up the curtains.
"Oi, that's mad!" Malik yelled, pulling Petrina back as smoke filled the hall.
Sprinklers triggered, dousing everything in heavy sheets of water. Screams turned into gasps as fire alarms blared. Chaos reigned but so did something else.
From the far end of the soaked cafeteria, a drumbeat started. Then a guitar. The choreography students slipped off their shoes, sliding across the wet floor like a stage had just been born. Music students lifted their instruments, fingers dripping but steady.
And just like that, the panic transformed.
Dozens of drenched bodies started moving with the rhythm, laughter mixing with shouts, hands clapping to the beat. What should have been disaster turned into a spontaneous rave.
Kylie was in the middle of it, hair plastered to her cheeks, spinning in circles as the sprinklers poured. Iver was right beside her, steadying her when she slipped, laughing as she shoved water at him.
Devon watched from the edge, chest tightening. Every flicker of her smile toward Iver, every tilt of her head dug into him like it was pieces of glass.
"Bruv, you good?" Malik asked, breathless from dancing.
Devon shook his head, muttering. "Nah. She's… she's movin' mad close to him."
Malik frowned. "They're just vibes, fam. Don't lose your head."
But Devon's jaw set harder. He couldn't hear the music anymore, couldn't feel the water soaking him through. All he saw was Iver's hand brushing Kylie's arm, her laughter bubbling like it belonged only to him.
And Raya saw it too.
She stepped closer, droplets running down her face, eyes softening like she'd been waiting for this. "Don't watch that, Dev," she whispered in his ear. "She's takin' you for a mug."
Devon tensed. "Shut up, Raya."
"I'm just sayin' you know...you give her your whole heart, and she's out here bussin' jokes with your boy? Nah. That's mad disrespectful." Her hand brushed his wrist, deliberate. "You don't need that. You need someone who rides for you proper."
He turned, meeting her gaze. There was no mistaking it that she was making her move towards him.
And for a dangerous second, with the music roaring and Kylie laughing in someone else's orbit, Devon let it happen.
Raya leaned closer, her voice cutting through the storm. "Let me show you, Dev. Not everyone's gonna splinter you."
His chest tightened. The water poured harder.
And somewhere in the chaos of song and spray, Devon realised...
The cracks were already spreading.
Splinters in the Water.