Tuesday

  Adam didn’t know why he came to school.

  He’d had zero intention of showing up until the last minute.

  But somewhere between brushing his teeth and ignoring three texts from David, he found himself pulling on his uniform: wrinkled, half-buttoned, tie loose, tattoos peeking from under his sleeves and on his neck like they’d crawled out on their own.

  The only thing worse than school was showing up looking like he cared about it.

  So he didn’t.

  He drifted down the corridor like a ghost with homework debt, earbuds in with no music playing, the kind of slow strut that said don’t talk to me unless you wanna die.

  “Bass boy!”

  He turned.

  There she was: Nickie, standing near the science wing, arms folded and an eyebrow lifted.

  She looked… different.

  Her hair was neat. Not a strand out of place.

  Uniform crisp, shirt perfectly tucked, every button accounted for.

  She looked like she might actually raise her hand in class and mean it.

  But her smirk? That was the same.

  “Wow. You walk these halls after all.” she said, deadpan. “I thought you were just an urban legend.”

  Adam snorted.

  “Yeah, I moonlight as a freelance spider advocate. The janitor and I have beef.”

  “Damn. I was wondering what that cold war energy in the restroom was about.”

  He walked up beside her, their steps falling into sync without planning.

  Her shoes tapped neatly against the floor.

  They made an odd picture:

  Her: polished, pressed, practically glowing with under-the-surface defiance.

  Him: a chaos demon in uniform, piercings glinting like school rules were a dare.

  Still… They matched. Somehow.

  Adam ended up following Nickie to her locker.

  “Actually that’s just a cover story. I’m actually here for grout inspection. Rumour is the west hallway's crumbling emotionally.”

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  “That hallway always gives off neglected child energy.”

  Adam snorted.

  “Yeah, I almost left it a granola bar out of pity.”

  Nickie shot him a side glance, unlocking her locker with a well-practiced flick of the wrist.

  Adam glimpsed at the inside of her locker. It was filled with sketches and books and notebooks.

  The sketches were very Nickie-like. He almost forgot everything else while checking them out, but then Nickie’s voice as she was taking out a stack of papers brought him back.

  “If you really cared, you'd have given it your homework.”

  “Bold of you to assume I have homework.”

  “Bold of you to assume granola bars solve emotional problems.”

  The first bell rang, meaning five minutes to get to class. Adam ignored it.

  Nickie slammed her locker shut with her elbow.

  Adam, without missing a beat, reached into his blazer pocket and pulled out a crushed granola bar, still half-wrapped, like it had survived a war in there.

  He held it up solemnly.

  “Emergency emotional support oatbrick.”

  Nickie blinked.

  Then stared at it. Then at him.

  “That thing looks like it’s seen the fall of empires.”

  Adam shrugged. Unbothered.

  “Adds depth to the flavour.”

  She gave him a long, slow look.

  “The flavour.” She repeated.

  Then took in the disaster that was his uniform: tie askew, collar popped on one side, one cuff rolled and the other not, uniform pants look like something chewed it up, combat boots that were just almost banned for school security reasons- laces untied, of course.

  He caught her glimpse, casually adjusting his crooked tie and muttered,

  “I made an effort today.”

  Nickie snorted.

  “You look like you tried to pass for normal and the universe physically rejected it.”

  “And you look like you just got printed straight out of a school brochure. What, is this your final form?”

  “Nah. This is my camouflage. Some of us have to play nice before we get loud.”

  The second bell rang, sharp and unsympathetic.

  She stepped away from the lockers, walking backward for a few paces.

  “Better get back to your grout. It needs you.”

  As Nickie turned away, he called after her:

  “Tell your textbooks I said good luck. They’ve got a tough day ahead.”

  She glanced over her shoulder with a smirk, and he added to himself:

  “See you around, Honour Student.”

  She disappeared around the corner, her hand twitching like maybe she wanted to wave and thought better of it.

  Adam stood there for a second, grinning to himself like a total idiot.

  And then he turned toward the west hallway.

  Just in case the grout was having a breakdown.