The cssroom had emptied except for the six students—three girls, three boys. Jet looked at them and gave a small, grateful smile.

  Gssy, the first of the three girls, sat near the front, her gaze clouded with sadness, though her posture remained straight. Despite the tremble in her voice earlier in geography, she was a rock now, and Jet could see the determination in her.

  Next to her was Beatrice. She was a recent transfer, having only moved to the school a few months ago, but she’d quickly found her pce. Beatrice was short—barely five feet tall—and had dark, curly hair that framed her face in wild, untamed waves. Her eyes were a deep brown, warm and approachable, though right now, there was a certain heaviness to them as she adjusted the sleeve of her oversized school hoodie. She had only been a part of the grade for a short time, but already, she’d fit in effortlessly with their tight-knit circle.

  On the other side of the room stood Maeve. Shoulder-length auburn hair fell in soft waves around her face. Her pale skin and freckled cheeks gave her a soft look, but she was a hard nut to crack, never afraid to give a piece of her mind to anyone she felt deserved it. Maeve stood slightly apart from the others, her arms crossed over her chest, a thoughtful expression on her face.

  The three boys were sat together near the back of the room, each carrying their own kind of weight. Pete, Wayne, and Ben.

  Pete was the most outspoken of the group. He had messy brown hair and a constant frown on his face. He was obsessed with the gym and it showed in his broad shoulders and bulging biceps. Presently, his sharp hazel eyes were full of emotion. He’d been Wade’s friend for years and, like the others, still seemed to be in shock.

  Beside him was Wayne, tall and nky, with shaggy bck hair that always fell into his eyes. He fidgeted with the hem of his sleeve as he looked at the others.

  Then there was Ben. His sandy hair was cut short, and he had a tendency to smile more than anyone else, but today, even his usual grin was absent. He wore the school hoodie, hands shoved deep into his pockets, leaning back against the desk as he quietly observed the rest of the group.

  "Thank you all again for stepping up," Jet said, his voice calm but firm as he addressed the group. "I know this isn’t easy, but together, we’ll make sure Wade is given the send-off he deserves."

  The others nodded, and with that, Jet led them out of the cssroom, each of them following him in silence. As they walked down the corridor, their footsteps echoed, but there was a certain sense of unity in their shared purpose.

  They arrived at the principal’s office, where Mr. Rowman sat behind his desk with a somber expression. After Jet expined their intention, the principal said, "I must say, I admire your initiative. Wade meant a great deal to this school, and any effort to honor him is greatly appreciated. We are pnning to hold the memorial in pce of next week’s assembly, at the school church. The church offers the right kind of atmosphere for a service like this. Your help with the arrangements will be more than welcomed.”

  A collective sigh of relief passed through the group. The principal’s approval made everything feel more real—like they were actually going to make something happen in Wade’s memory.

  Jet gave a small smile and hashed out the details with the principal—details like when they should arrive to assist with arranging seats, decorations, and other tasks. After the details were discussed, the everyone memorised their roles, Mr. Rowman offered them all a reassuring smile. “You all are doing a good thing. Now, let’s make sure we give Wade the tribute he deserves.”

  With that, Jet led the group out of the principal’s office.

  They seven of them moved together toward the cafeteria, though none of them had pnned it. It just seemed that, after the shared experience in the principal’s office and their unspoken bond over Wade’s loss, they naturally gravitated toward each other. It was like the weight of the day had woven them into a single unit. They all grabbed trays, making their way to the serving area, which was bustling with activity.

  The cafeteria was alive with noise. However, the group moved through it with a quiet ease, as if the noise around them had dimmed and they had formed their own space within the chaos.

  The school’s food options were varied, sophisticated, and simple. There were delicate garden sads with roasted chicken, ptes of salmon with a lemon butter sauce, bowls of creamy risotto, and piles of freshly baked bread. Freshly made pasta, twirling around delicate forks in the hands of students, was piled high in bowls next to fresh vegetables gzed in olive oil. The desserts were nothing short of indulgent: chocote mousse in crystal cups, écirs, and fresh fruit tarts.

  As they made their way down the line, each of the students picked their meal.

  Gssy grabbed a pte of fresh, colorful sad with slices of roasted chicken, and on the side, a small portion of buttery mashed potatoes.

  Beatrice, looking slightly overwhelmed by the options, settled for a simple bowl of pasta with marinara sauce, adding a slice of garlic bread for good measure.

  Maeve selected a small portion of risotto with a side of steamed vegetables.

  The guys, excluding Jet, went for a hearty portion of grilled chicken and fries with a side of fresh fruit. The golden fries piled high on their ptes.

  Jet grabbed a bowl of creamy risotto and a side of lemon-gzed salmon.

  Once everyone had made their selections, they moved to a rge table in the center of the cafeteria. It was one of those long tables that could seat ten or twelve, but for now, it held just seven. The noise of the cafeteria surrounded them, but at their table, there was an odd stillness, a silence that felt neither awkward nor forced. They ate in unison, the clinking of utensils against ptes the only sound between them. It was a silence thick with the weight of the morning—of Wade’s absence, of the gravity of what they were doing. The shared understanding of loss was heavy, but not uncomfortable.

  Jet pushed a forkful of risotto into his mouth, the creamy texture soothing in a way he didn’t expect. His gaze wandered from one person to another as they ate, and when they happened to meet his eyes he offered a kind smile.

  Finally, Pete broke the silence, his voice low but steady. “This grilled chicken... it’s always the best, isn’t it?”

  Gssy nodded, her mouth full. “Honestly, it’s the one thing I look forward to at this school. How do they get it so right?”

  Ben took a bite, a grin tugging at his lips. “I’m convinced they secretly put crack in it. It’s addicting.”

  Beatrice, sitting across from him, rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a small smile. “I’m not sure about crack, but it’s definitely a miracle. They should serve it every day.”

  Gssy gave a little ugh, her voice soft. “If they did, I think I’d gain ten pounds just from this dish alone.”

  The table chuckled.

  At a point, Jet noticed that Beatrice was stealing gnces at him. She would look up, then quickly avert her gaze, her cheeks flushed. He found himself amused but shrugged it off. There were always a handful of girls who had crushes on him. And why wouldn’t they? He was tall, handsome, and was the prospective school captain. Honestly, though, he didn’t have the time to entertain any of it. He had a bigger picture to pay mind to. For example, this task force for Wade’s memorial. It wasn’t just about honoring his memory—it was about how it would be perceived. A good leader wasn’t just someone who excelled in css and looked the part; they had to show that they could care, that they could organize and lead in times of grief and loss.

  It wasn’t just about Wade. It was about the image it would present to the school. The way he handled this, the way he helped, would set him apart as the future school captain, especially now that Wade was gone. The other students would see him for the good guy, the one who stepped up when needed. His leadership was now undeniable, and it would solidify his reputation when the captaincy election comes a fortnight from now.

  Jet and the others continued to eat and chat, their conversations flowing easily. Time seemed to pass in the blink of an eye, and before they knew it, the recess bell rang twenty minutes ter, signaling the end of the break.

  Maeve suggested they exchange phone numbers to keep in touch about the memorial pns. Beatrice, who had been quiet for most of the meal, nodded enthusiastically, her eyes flickering up to Jet once more. They all traded numbers quickly, and when it came time for Jet to give Beatrice his, she avoided eye contact, her face flushing a little as she keyed in his number into her phone. With a shy smile, she rang his phone once, giving him her number before looking away again.

  As they wrapped up, they all mentioned the csses they had next. Jet listed his offhandedly before suddenly realizing that Beatrice was in the same css—Advanced Maths.

  The group gradually disbanded as the recess bell continued to echo through the cafeteria, everyone gathering their trays and stacking them into the trolley for used dishes by the door. The six of them parted ways, heading to their respective csses. Jet and Beatrice found themselves walking together toward the math department, their pace in sync, though the difference in their heights was quite noticeable—Jet towering at six feet one while Beatrice barely reached his shoulder. He was used to being taller than most, but next to Beatrice, his height felt almost exaggerated.

  As they crossed the campus together, he couldn’t help but notice subtle changes in Beatrice's demeanor. He was a meticulous person and was sensitive to such shifts in people. Beatrice had been changing since they left the crowded cafeteria. While in the group, she had been quiet and bashful, hesitating to speak her mind. But now, as fewer students surrounded them, a different side of her began to emerge. The posture that had once been uncertain was now more poised. Her smile, once tentative, now seemed more assured. She walked with a confidence that hadn’t been there before, her shoulders rexed, her head held a little higher.

  Jet couldn’t help but smile at the transformation. Sometimes people, especially introverted ones, could shift dramatically depending on their environment. Around others, they could become smaller, unsure of themselves. But take them out of the crowd, and they bloomed, exuding a quiet kind of strength.

  Beatrice caught him gncing at her and immediately looked away, her gaze dropping to the ground. But as they continued walking, she faltered, her mouth opening as if she wanted to say something, only to stop mid-sentence.

  Jet shot her a curious gnce. "What’s wrong?"

  Beatrice hesitated, gncing up at him for a brief moment before shaking her head. “Nothing,” she muttered, her voice almost inaudible.

  Jet smiled encouragingly, trying to lighten the mood. “You know, you’re free to speak your mind to me. I’m a good listener. At least, that’s what my mum always says.”

  For a moment, Beatrice seemed to rex slightly, her lips curving up into a faint smile. "It’s... a question about Wade," she admitted softly.

  Jet nodded, having expected as much. But he was undeterred. As the future school captain, he needed to be able to help his peers navigate grief. “I’m ready to answer anything you have. Just shoot.”

  Beatrice hesitated again, her fingers tightening around the strap of her bag. “Are you sure?”

  Jet nodded firmly. “Yes.”

  "Okay..." She drew in a shaky breath before looking up at him, her voice low and serious. "Then—why did you kill Wade?”

  Jet stopped in his tracks, eyes wide with shock. He spun to face her so quickly that he nearly suffered whipsh. His pupils shrank to pinpricks, his breath catching in his chest. For a long second, all that could be heard was the pounding of his own heart.

  “I beg your pardon?” he asked, his voice strained.

  Beatrice's expression was cool, her eyes steady, focused. There was no sign of mockery or pyful teasing in her face—just a calm, unsettling certainty.