The crisp autumn air brought new beginnings, but for Ezra, fall started with a disaster.

  The lunchroom buzzed with the usual energy of hungry students, the scent of warm food mixing with the chatter of a hundred voices. Ezra sat at his usual table, flipping through the news feeds on his old smartphone, absorbing the test updates on physics breakthroughs and graviton applications. He had been in the middle of reading an article about interstelr propulsion theories when a loud voice cut through the din.

  "—and my dad says we might even get a house on Elysium Station next year. You know, the one with the floating gardens?"

  Ezra barely looked up. The voice belonged to Julie Key, one of the most outspoken kids in their grade. She was loud, confident, and always seemed to have something to brag about. She had a rumored reputation for being a spoiled little brat. Today, it was her family’s wealth.

  “My dad says we might even get a personal gravity pool installed in the house,” she continued, smirking as she unwrapped her meal. "Not the cheap kind they sell to regur folks—the real ones. Custom-built."Julie Key had a presence that was hard to ignore—sharp blue eyes that cut through a conversation like a well-aimed remark, framed by a cascade of ash-blonde hair, always slightly tousled as if she'd just come from an adventure. Her features were a contradiction, a blend of soft elegance and rugged defiance, her fair skin dusted with faint freckles that hinted at time spent outdoors, despite her wealthy upbringing.

  She carried herself with an effortless confidence, often crossing her arms or tilting her chin in defiance, as if daring the world to challenge her. Though her clothes were top-tier synth-fabric, a privilege of her family's wealth, she never looked pristine—there was always a loose thread, a scuffed boot, or a grease stain from tinkering with gadgets she probably wasn't supposed to touch. Her expressions ranged from smirks of amusement to scowls of frustration, but when she really smiled—a genuine, fleeting grin—it had the warmth of someone who, deep down, just wanted to belong.

  Ezra tried to ignore her, but something about her tone rubbed him the wrong way.

  Julie had always been a bit of a show-off, but today, it felt personal. Maybe it was because of how much Ezra’s father had drilled into him the importance of hard work over luxury. Maybe it was because, despite how far humanity had come, some people still thought money meant more than effort. Or maybe—just maybe—he was just in a bad mood.

  Either way, he couldn’t stop himself from responding.

  "Yeah?" Ezra scoffed, setting his phone down. "Well, my dad built his own company from nothing. No fancy tech to help him. Just his hands and hard work. You ever think about that?"

  Julie arched a brow, clearly amused. "Oh, please. People like my dad fund the kind of advancements that make your dad's work easier. If anything, he should be thanking us."

  Ezra’s blood boiled.

  The next few moments were a blur. Heated words were exchanged, tempers fred, and before either of them knew what happened, food trays were shoved, fists were swung, and Ezra found himself pinned to the ground, wrestling with Julie in the middle of the lunchroom.

  The cafeteria erupted into chaotic amusement as Ezra and Julie’s argument reached its boiling point. It started with words—heated, sharp, and biting—but words quickly turned into action when Julie, in a moment of theatrical arrogance, flicked a grape at Ezra’s forehead. It bounced off with a soft plop, but to Ezra, it might as well have been a gauntlet thrown at his feet. Without thinking, he grabbed a handful of mashed protein substitute from his tray and flung it in retaliation.

  That was the moment all hell broke loose.

  Julie dove across the table, tackling Ezra with the grace of an untrained wrestler, sending trays and utensils cttering to the floor. Ezra, caught off guard but determined not to lose, grabbed her sleeve, and the two tumbled onto the ground, rolling dramatically over a spilled carton of synth-milk. The other students didn’t know whether to cheer or call for a teacher, so instead, they did what any responsible kids would do—formed a circle around the brawl, yelling encouragements like it was a professional match.

  Julie, leveraging her advantage, pinned Ezra’s shoulders down, her face a mix of triumph and mischief. "Give up, nerd!" she taunted.

  "Not a chance, princess!" Ezra twisted free, managing to grab a discarded bread roll and, in an act of ultimate pettiness, squished it against her cheek.

  Julie let out a furious squawk, unching herself back at him, but by then, the teachers had arrived—pulling them apart, separating the filing limbs and outraged gres. The cafeteria groaned in disappointment, their entertainment cut short, and as the two combatants were dragged toward the principal’s office, their clothes stained with food and pride slightly bruised, one thing was certain—this wasn’t over.

  By the time the teachers dragged them apart, the damage had been done. Ezra’s shirt was stained with Julie’s spilled drink, her backpack y flung across the floor, and the entire cafeteria was staring at them in stunned silence.

  Minutes ter, he was sitting in the principal’s office, dreading the inevitable call to his father.

  The office smelled like old leather and sterilized air, the kind of pce designed to make kids feel small. Ezra sat stiffly in the chair, arms crossed, eyes locked on the floor as he waited. Julie sat across from him, equally miserable, though she masked it behind an unbothered expression.

  Principal Holloway—a severe-looking woman with gray-streaked hair and an uncanny ability to make students sweat—sighed, folding her hands on the desk. “Fighting. In the cafeteria.” She shook her head. "This isn't just a minor offense. This is grounds for expulsion.”

  Ezra’s heart plummeted. Expelled? Over one fight?

  Just then, the door swung open, and in walked Seth—Ezra’s father.

  Seth’s face was unreadable, but his presence alone was enough to make Ezra shift uncomfortably in his seat. His dad wasn’t the kind of man who got angry easily. When he was disappointed, though? That was worse.

  “I’m sorry about this,” Seth said, shaking the principal’s hand. “What do we need to do to fix it?”

  Principal Holloway exhaled. “Normally, we’d issue a suspension, but given the severity of the altercation, we’re looking at a possible expulsion.”

  Ezra felt cold fear grip his chest. But then, to his surprise, Seth leaned back and smirked. "That seems a little harsh, don’t you think? Kids fight. They learn. What if, instead of kicking them out, we make them work together?"

  Principal Holloway raised a brow. "And how do you propose we do that?"

  Seth turned to Julie and Ezra. "You two ever hear of hostage negotiation?"

  Julie and Ezra exchanged confused gnces.

  Seth pulled out two old walkie-talkies from his pocket and set them on the desk. “Here’s the deal. You each have something the other wants.” He gestured to Ezra. “Your phone stays with Julie.” Then he turned to Julie. “And your backpack—especially that little teddy bear charm you seem to care about? That stays with the Ezra.”

  Julie visibly stiffened at that.

  Seth continued, voice calm but firm. “If you want your stuff back, you’re gonna have to negotiate through these.” He tapped the walkie-talkies. “You’ll spend the next few weeks talking to each other. Learning to compromise. Figure it out, and you both get your things back.”

  Ezra and Julie gawked at him.

  The principal hesitated, then slowly nodded. “An unconventional approach… but I like it.”

  Julie groaned. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

  But it was already decided.

  The two of them had just been sentenced to forced communication.

  The first week was a disaster.

  Ezra and Julie spent most of their time yelling insults into the radios, neither willing to give an inch.

  Ezra: "Just admit you’re wrong, and we can be done with this!"

  Julie: "Ha! You first, nerd!"

  Ezra: "You’re impossible!"

  Julie: "And you’re annoying!"

  Neither one of them wanted to lose. Neither one wanted to admit they had anything in common.

  That evening, as Ezra sat on the edge of his bed, gripping the walkie-talkie in frustration, Seth leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching his son stew in silent irritation. Ezra had spent the st hour yelling into the radio, throwing out demands that Julie refused to meet, and now all he had to show for it was a throbbing headache and a growing sense of defeat. His father, ever the observer, let the silence linger before speaking.

  “You know, kid,” Seth finally said, his voice calm but firm, “you’re not always gonna be able to fight your way out of every problem.” Ezra didn’t respond, but his fingers tightened around the walkie-talkie, his frustration still simmering. Seth stepped forward and sat beside him, resting his elbows on his knees. “Words are thoughts, and thoughts are words. The moment you stop throwing punches—physically or verbally—you get to the real problem. You get to understanding.” He gave Ezra a knowing look. “Most disagreements? They don’t need fists. They just need someone willing to listen.”

  Ezra exhaled sharply, his emotions still tangled, the rush of pride and anger clouding his judgment. “She’s just so—so—stubborn,” he muttered.

  Seth chuckled. “Sounds familiar.”

  Ezra frowned but didn’t argue, because deep down, he knew his dad was right. The frustration didn’t fade immediately—it never did—but as he stared at the walkie-talkie, his father’s words took root. Maybe—just maybe—if he stopped shouting to win, and started listening to learn, he’d actually get somewhere.

  By week two Something changed.

  The shouting lessened. The conversations sted longer. Ezra started asking actual questions instead of just throwing accusations.

  And Julie… answered.

  She admitted that she didn’t actually care about being rich. What she cared about was her dad—who was gone most of the year, traveling for business. The bragging? It was just a defense mechanism.

  Ezra, in turn, expined that he wasn’t jealous—he just hated the idea that money meant more than effort.

  By week three, they weren’t just talking—they were ughing.

  By week four, they weren’t just rivals anymore.

  They were friends.

  And on the st day of fall, they met in person, exchanged their trinkets, and kept the walkie-talkies as a symbol of everything they’d learned.

  As Seth watched them finally shake hands, he grinned and muttered under his breath:

  "Now that’s a lesson worth learning."

  The crisp air of te December carried the quiet anticipation of Quarantinemas, a time when the world finally slowed down. It was a holiday born out of ancient struggles, when humanity had faced a devastating pgue and emerged with a newfound appreciation for rest and togetherness. Instead of celebrating separate holidays like Christmas and New Year, people had fused them into one long, two-week period of peace, where families gathered, work halted for all but essential workers, and life became about simple joys—warm food, shared stories, and the kind of ughter that only came when there were no deadlines looming.

  Ezra was looking forward to spending time with his dad, eating way too much food, and maybe even watching some old space exploration documentaries that Seth always recommended. But as he sat on the school steps after css, fiddling with his walkie-talkie, he couldn’t help but notice the way Julie sat beside him, unusually quiet, her usual sharp wit subdued. When he finally nudged her, she let out a sigh.

  “My dad’s working overtime again,” she muttered, kicking a stray pebble. “Mom and I’ll have Quarantinemas alone. It’s… fine, I guess. Just another year.”

  Ezra frowned. He had seen her dad a handful of times on the news—always rushing from one task to the next, exhaustion etched into his face. Essential workers still had jobs to do, and Julie’s dad was one of them. Ezra wasn’t sure what to say at first, but then, gncing at the walkie-talkie clutched in his hands, an idea sparked.

  “Well… you don’t have to be alone,” he said, holding up the device with a small grin. “We have these now. We can still talk. I mean, it’s not the same as hanging out in person, but… I dunno. Might be nice to have company.”

  Julie blinked, staring at him for a second before her lips curved into a small, genuine smile—not the smug, teasing kind she usually wore, but something softer. Before Ezra could react, she threw her arms around him in a quick but fierce hug.

  “Thanks, nerd,” she mumbled.

  Ezra, caught completely off guard, awkwardly patted her back, his face burning. “Uh—y-yeah, sure. No problem.”

  As she pulled away, still smiling, Ezra realized that for the first time since they had met, Julie looked a little less alone—and maybe, just maybe, Quarantinemas wouldn’t be so bad after all.