—

  —

  Later, as Nomura-sensei predicted, our course registration and schedules were finalised. This term, we had eight subjects instead of ten.

  The next day, homeroom began with Nomura-sensei presenting a chart of student council candidates.

  “This chart lists the candidates from our class who have decided to throw their hats into the ring for the student council election,” she announced, tapping the board for emphasis.

  Among our twenty-one classmates, only six names stood out:

  

• Kusumoto
• Aria
• Nagamine
• Ritter
• Hazel
• Me

  The weight of my classmates' gazes settled on us.

  “Your task now is to rally your classmates and garner their support,” she explained. “Remember, you'll also have the opportunity to address the class directly on voting day, so be prepared.” With that, she wrapped up, leaving the room buzzing with whispers.

  I began mulling over a question that I had and believed it would be best to discuss it in private, out of the earshot of my colleagues. Nomura-sensei's mention of speaking to the class sparked an idea in my mind, one that seemed plausible but required clarification to ensure its feasibility.

  Lunch flew by, and as I returned to class, my world suddenly went dark—hands playfully covered my eyes in a game of guess-who. I could sense their softness, indicating they belonged to a female. The pressure on my back felt like she was trying to reach out, but she was having some trouble. Only one person came to mind who would play such a game.

  “Diya.”

  “Bingo,” she said as she removed her hands, revealing her trademark cheeky smile. She hopped back a step, her eyes dancing with mischief. “What's up? You've been avoiding me, haven't you?” she teased.

  

  “Of course not,” I said, though guilt lingered—I hadn’t spoken to her much since classes resumed.

  “So, spill it. Why are you throwing your hat into the student council ring?” Diya’s excitement was obvious.

  “I figured I could use some competition,” I answered.

  “Isn’t that a bit extreme? A simple challenge against Hazel would’ve sufficed.” Then, realisation flickered across her face. “I see now.”

  “Yeah,” I said, knowing she understood.

  “But the election? Don't you think that's a little too much? Winning isn’t easy,” she pointed out.

  “I heard popularity plays a big role.”

  “Absolutely,” she agreed. “You’re popular, but not sure if it’s the right kind of popularity for this.”

  She was right—my popularity stemmed more from curiosity than real influence.

  “So, do you have any ideas?” I asked, hoping for insight.

  “Me?” Diya laughed. “I'm a blank slate.” She admitted, closing the distance between us again with a quick hop. “Besides, Hazel’s my best friend—helping you would be betrayal.”

  Despite the jest, I understood the delicate balance of loyalty and friendship at play. “I get it,” I answered.

  “Sorry, I can't be of much help, Marcus,” she apologised, reaching out and placing a hand on my shoulder dramatically.

  “Not your fault.”

  “How about this? What if I treat you to dinner sometime?” she offered, but before I could reply, a soft voice interrupted.

  “Diya?” The girl's voice revealed that she had a shy and nervous manner.

  “Aria, sorry, I forgot that I was supposed to see you,” Diya admitted, mirroring Aria’s disappointment. Even though her unassuming presence was often overlooked, it dawned on me that Aria was one of my classmates.

  “Diya, I'll leave to attend to her.” I stepped back, sensing their conversation was important.

  “Alright then, we can schedule our dinner later,” Diya said.

  “Later,” I replied, waving as she joined Aria.

  With time to spare before class, I reached for my phone and noticed a new message waiting for me. The contents were brief but intriguing—someone was visiting my room tonight.

  —

  —

  When the class eventually ended and I started gathering my things, I felt a presence beside me. With his distinctive green-tipped hair, Jaden approached me.

  “Marcus, do you mind if I walk with you back?” His request surprised me—he usually didn’t approach me like this. The elections immediately came to mind.

  “Sure, let me just grab my bag.” I packed quickly, and we left the classroom.

  “Is everything alright?” I asked, anxious to hear what was on his mind. “It's just that you've never asked me to walk with you before, so I assumed there was something you wanted to discuss.”

  “Well, there is something,” he admitted after a pause. “It’s about the student council election.”

  I knew it. The elections weighed on his mind, just as they were on mine.

  “And what about it?” I asked, ready for his questions.

  “I need you to promise you won’t divide the class,” Jaden said cautiously.

  “Why would that happen?” I probed, genuinely curious about his perspective.

  “I'm not saying it would, but I'm just trying to warn you not to do anything that would result in that,” he clarified. “I told Hazel the same thing.”

  “Why didn’t you run? You’d make a great leader.”

  “Maybe on paper, but that type of thing isn't for me; it would be a massive screw-up, trust me,” he confessed and I could sense a hint of self-doubt.

  “Well, maybe you're right, but I was just basing this on my own observations of you,” I reassured him.

  “Thanks,” he muttered, looking straight ahead as we got closer to our dorms. He stopped and extended his hand. “Just remember what I said.”

  “Don't worry, I wasn't planning on causing any division among the class. You have my word.” We shook hands before he turned back toward the school, probably still having some unfinished business.

  I decided not to dwell on this and headed back to my room, preparing for the evening ahead.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  —

  —

  At seven in the evening, a sharp knock interrupted my peace. Sighing, I got out of bed, already knowing who it was. When I opened it, I saw a familiar face with an impatient expression.

  “Finally! You take too long,” she scolded, her eyes shooting daggers in my direction.

  “Can you stop knocking like a madwoman?” I shot back, frustrated. This was not the first time I had asked her to refrain from such behaviour, yet she never seemed to listen.

  “Yeah, yeah. Now can you move, please?” She brushed past me without waiting for a reply, making herself at home as if she owned the place, dropping her bag beside my bed.

  I shut the door as Kailey made herself comfortable. “Are you hungry? I made beans with halloumi stew.”

  “Damn, I haven't had that in a while. Thanks,” she said, eyes lighting up as I served her a plate.

  “This looks great—you've improved since last time,” she remarked, taking a bite.

  “Well, I was practicing at home,” I admitted and she gave me a shocked look.

  “No way. How’d I never catch you in the kitchen?” She questioned; her curiosity piqued.

  “I was sneaky; besides, you were mostly in your room, remember?” I reminded her, with a light-hearted grin pulling at my lip corners.

  “Whatever,” she relented, focusing on her food.

  “So, how has school been?” I asked and she looked up at me.

  “What do you expect? It’s school,” she answered between bites.

  “Must you be so vague about it?” I pressed on, as I was looking for a more thorough response.

  “It has been much better than last semester—I think I’ve finally adjusted. But who knows? The semester just started.”

  “That's great,” I said, relieved she was settling in.

  “And what about you?” she asked, curious.

  “Me? I am surprised you asked,” I joked, thinking it would be a light-hearted statement, but she took it more seriously than I intended.

  “Sorry, I said that. Honestly, I am not too sure. I still feel the awkwardness and the feeling that I am an outcast in the class, but I guess it has reduced a bit,” I admitted, observing her closely for any reaction as she finished her meal and deposited the plate in the sink before returning to the bed.

  “Wash it,” I said firmly.

  “No.”

  “Kailey.”

  “Wait a second; I never asked you to cook for me in the first place, so I don't feel responsible for washing the plate,” she shot back, stubborn as ever.

  “I blame dad,” I sighed, feeling annoyed. It was a familiar refrain—our father's indulgence often led to her entitled attitude.

  “Well, I have about two hours to spend here so I suggest we begin,” she said, her eagerness concealed by a sly smile as she pulled a book out of her bag, the word "" emblazoned across its cover alongside her name.

  “So factors and multiples are what we are covering today—I just don’t get them,” she admitted, handing it to me.

  As we got comfortable for the study session, I revisited the fundamentals, starting with factors. I could tell where she was struggling, primarily in the concept of identifying factors.

  Recalling a helpful trick I had learnt, I demonstrated it to her. To reinforce it, I pulled up an online practice site and let her give it a try rather than making my own questions.

  After two hours, Kailey slammed her book shut with a loud thud and stretched, letting out a contented yawn.

  “That was great! I feel like an expert in factors and multiples now,” she declared with a grin. She looked like she had just defeated a formidable opponent and I couldn't help but roll my eyes.

  “Well, ‘’ I think it’s time for you to leave.” I remarked, rising from the bed and watching as she gathered her belongings into her bag.

  “You're so hasty to chase me away; I could still stay for a little while. It's just past nine, you know,” she objected, feigning innocence with a playful glint in her eyes.

  “Nope, I've had enough of you for today,” I said homoursly, pointing to the door.

  “Rude,” she teased but got up, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

  “Before you go, I want to tell you something,” I said, stopping her before she reached the door.

  “It better be important,” she replied, turning back with mild irritation.

  “I’m running for student council president.”

  Her eyes widened before she grabbed my shoulders, excitement clear in her expression.

  “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” she shouted, then formed a cunning smile, as though she were struck with an idea of mischief. “How about you try changing the rule on wearing your school uniform while on campus?”

  “Very funny. Let me make it to the general election stage first,” I said dryly, pushing her hands off my shoulders.

  “I just didn’t want you to be surprised when you see my name up there.”

  Kailey rolled her eyes before turning to leave. Halfway through the door, she paused.

  “If you need help campaigning in the middle school section, I can help,” she offered sincerely.

  “That's nice of you,” I said, appreciating the gesture despite our playful banter.

  “Shush,” she grinned before closing the door behind her. I took a quick look around and was relieved to see that her presence had left little to no mess.

  —

  —

  A few days later, after homeroom, Hazel took the opportunity to address the class.

  “Everyone, I just need a moment of your time,” she began, capturing the attention of everyone in the room. “The in-class vote for the upcoming student council election is next week. I will present my policies and ideas at the manifesto on that day, but that doesn't mean I won't tease you all; expect some flyers over the coming days.” She finished with a bow. “Let us come together and make this school a paradise for us all.”

  Her speech earned a few claps, but the mood remained muted. As she straightened, her gaze lingered on me before she moved on. She was taking the initiative.

  I watched in silence, realising that I would need to come up with a plan if I was going to have any chance against her. I had a vague idea but needed time to execute it. There was one person I needed to talk to—a crucial ally in my plan. Before class started, I hurriedly texted her to set up a meet-up after school.

  Classes passed in a blur, and soon I made my way to the terrace—a secluded spot with umbrellas, tables and chairs where students often relaxed. I sat down, pretending to scroll through my phone while keeping an eye out for a familiar face.

  Diya bounced over with her usual energy, dropping into the seat across from me with a bright smile.

  “Hello there, Marcus!”

  “Thanks for coming.”

  “It's cool, but I thought I told you I couldn't help with election stuff,” she said, half-playful, half-resigned.

  “I know, but you're still here,” I replied, hoping she might change her mind.

  “So, who is this person?” she asked, as she leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow at me.

  “The student council president, Haku Hotaka-senpai,” I disclosed, observing her response. I was surprised that she remained unfazed, as if she had anticipated my request.

  “Why do you need me? You could have gone to his class or the student council office,” she said, bringing up a good point as she tapped her fingers rhythmically on the table.

  “I didn’t want people knowing I was meeting him—that’s why you’re acting as an intermediary,” I explained.

  Diya tapped her chin thoughtfully before grinning. “You owe this secret agent dinner,” she declared before retrieving her phone and making a call.

  “Hello, Hotaka. How are you?” Diya addressed him by his first name. “I know it is out of the blue, but I need to meet you—or rather, someone wants to meet you.”

  She glanced around, ensuring our privacy before activating the speakerphone.

  “He can hear you now,” she informed Haku-senpai, her eyes fixed on the phone that was lying on the table between the two of us.

  “Good. Marcus, it seems you requested my time.” Haku-senpai’s voice came through. His ability to deduce my identity caught me off guard, leaving me momentarily speechless.

  “How did you know it was me?”

  “It was simple but that is not what this is about, is it?” he replied. “I am sure you called because of the in-class voting.”

  “You're right. I need to ask both of you some questions,” I said, eager to get to the point.

  “Me? What good am I here?” Diya objected, her hesitation clear in her voice. “Besides, I already told you—”

  “I know you can’t help with the election, but that does not mean you can’t answer some questions about the school and its history,” I explained, trying to reassure her.

  “History?” Diya echoed, intriguied. I could see the wheels turning in her mind as she considered the implications of our conversation.

  “I would be free from seven; both of you can meet me at the overlook,” Haku-senpai said before ending the call.

  I turned to Diya. “Where is the overlook?” I asked sheepishly, hoping she wouldn't laugh at my ignorance. Diya couldn't contain her amusement as she responded.

  “Come on, I’ll show you,” she said, picking up her phone and motioning for me to follow to our rendezvous with Haku-senpai.

  —

  —

  The day before the in-class vote was filled with excitement. Throughout the week, intense campaigns were going on, with each candidate vying for the interest and endorsement of their classmates. Some had resorted to traditional methods, unveiling detailed policies and plans for the school's improvement. Others, however, had opted for more dubious tactics, promising extravagant incentives like free lunches or exclusive privileges in exchange for votes.

  Then there was me. I had stayed off the campaign trail entirely, letting rumours spread—some claimed I had conceded, others speculated a dramatic reveal on voting day. Despite the gossip, I remained stoically silent.

  As the final bell rang, I packed up my things, ready to leave, but before I could make my exit, someone appeared in front of my desk.

  “I need to talk to you. It's important,” she said, her words hanging like a challenge.

  I was perplexed by her sudden appearance but curious.

  “Alright, what's this about?”

  “Let's talk somewhere private; follow me,” she said firmly.

  I nodded, got up from my seat and trailed behind as she led me through the hallways until we reached the farthest corner of the building. She halted abruptly, amidst the dwindling crowds and fading daylight, gesturing towards a nearby classroom door.

  “In here,” she said, opening the door to show a dark, empty classroom. The overhead lights flickered to life as she flipped the switch, illuminating the space.

  “Now that we're alone, let's talk, Marcus—just you and me,” she said solemnly.

  Hazel. Her unexpected summons left me wondering about her intentions and the nature of our impending conversation. What was her plan? I was dying to find out.