Morning fog wraps the street outside like a half-remembered dream. Cafeteria's already humming with everything left unsaid after last night—the lines between teams more blurred, laughter more bitter, bruises traded for stories and half-promises.
I walk in with Jay, Minji, and Rina—Dao trailing, torn between sides but still orbiting our chaos.
Minji: "You think it sticks?"
I shake my head, grabbing a milk. "Nothing sticks for long, not in a place built on rumors."
Jay leans into the window light. "Things change, but never for real. Cycle just starts again with new faces, better jokes."
Dao shares the latest: "Word is teachers want answers. They think some seniors are taking bets behind the scenes. Principal's looking for scapegoats."
Rina grins, pocketing two breakfast bars. "School's always hunting someone. I say live loud until they catch the wrong guy."
Jay: "The truth's not for sale. But everyone's got a price."
First period, the tension is a shadow, cutting across desks. Ms. Park keeps glancing at her attendance sheet like it's ticking down to zero.
I'm called up to answer.
I do, offhand: "History's just people wanting not to repeat their mistakes, then doing it anyway."
Mrs. Park gives a tired smile. "Maybe this year's the exception?"
I nod, but don't commit. Exceptions are for rule-makers.
After class, the hall is a mess of alliances and mini-coups. Vasco and Daniel pass, cool as ever, checking the chaos but not stopping to fix it. Zack's laughter echoes off linoleum, bigger than the bodies around him.
Minji corners me at the lockers.
"You ever think we're just extras in someone else's plot?"
I grin, shoulder to steel. "Extras only matter when they steal the scene."
She nods. "So steal it good."
Lunch is a blur of noise—everyone talking shop on last night's contest, who won, who got robbed, who's next to make a play. Daniel sits at our table, more comfortable now, not a challenge but a fixture.
Rina throws down: "What if we make a party, not a war?"
Dao: "Even parties need rules. Otherwise, someone gets hurt."
Jay shrugs, chewing thoughtfully. "Sometimes, hurting is how you know you're alive."
Minji raises her glass. "To new rules, then."
I answer, half a smile: "To breaking them better."
Bell rings. Out in the yard, someone's arguing by the vending machines—Rina steps in, settles it with a joke and an arched brow. Jay scoops up a loose ball, one-handed, no look, tosses it to Dao—gets a surprised, crooked smile in return.
By mid-afternoon, the whispers about betting have grown teeth. Pretending to ignore it are the rich kids, but you can see them—confident, smug, counting odds like they count parents' business cards.
Dao pulls me aside near the library.
"You know this can get ugly? I heard the upper grades are pulling in old debts. Not just friendly bets. Real money, favors."
I hold his gaze. "So's the rest of the world. We might as well get good at the game."
He nods, but his hands shake when no one's looking. Minji watches from a distance, ready to step in if he stumbles.
Jay's sketching on a table in the quad—a tangled web of names, arrows, teams, betrayals, alliances.
"You think too many moves in advance," I tell him.
He draws a new line with a flourish. "Thinking ahead means never tripping over your own feet."
"Still gotta walk," I reply. "Or you're just a statue in the rain."
Rina hovers, reads the chart over his shoulder, grins wide. "Statues can tip over."
Jay: "If you push hard enough."
Rina: "Or if they want to fall."
Final bell—word goes out fast: a meeting on the roof, not sanctioned, not official, just everyone not afraid of the risk. Vasco gives a nod under the stairs. Jace, Daniel, Zack all present—the heavy hitters who never show for nothing.
The air's brisk up top, city stretched pale under gray sky.
Rina jumps on the ledge, arms out. "Raise your hand if you're here to fight, not just watch."
Scattered laughs, some genuine, some nervous.
Daniel steps forward, surprisingly solemn. "We can't keep letting outsiders—teachers, bookies, whoever—call the shots. This is our school. So decide. We do this together, or we go back to splitting for scraps."
A pause, long enough for everyone to measure their own fear.
I speak up: "Nobody survives alone. Even Batman needs Alfred."
Jay: "And friends who let you break the rules."
Minji: "If there's a way out, let's find it together."
Hands go up, slowly, then all at once; some are raised for show, some bruised from last night, some trembling with the hope that maybe you can change the ending if enough people believe it.