[Jow Ylliard Hayle]
Lunchtime.
I ditched Rain. She wanted to eat in the classroom with me, but I wasn’t comfortable around our new classmates. I’ve been avoiding them as much as I can.
As I descended the staircase, I caught up with Nova and Lean May.
“You two heading for lunch?” I asked casually.
Nova turned to me, brows furrowed. Lean May nodded without even glancing my way.
“Aren’t you eating with your princess?” Nova teased with a smirk. “Rain’s waiting.”
“She’s your princess, not mine. I’m eating at the supernatural club room.”
Nova grinned mischievously. She missed a step and nearly stumbled, but Lean May caught her just in time.
“Vice President of the karate club, huh?” I teased. Nova flushed in embarrassment.
“You want to feel pain?” she snapped. “I’m gonna beat you up, Jow!”
> Damn, her glare—like she’s about to commit murder.<
“Sorry, Nova. Don’t take it too seriously,” I muttered, scratching the back of my head.
She clicked her tongue, clearly still annoyed.
Lean May laughed at our exchange.
“What’s so funny?” Nova and I asked in unison.
We blinked at each other in disbelief—same timing, same words. We both pointed at each other.
“Copycat!” Again, in perfect sync.
“Ugh, you idiot!” Nova marched up two steps to grab my collar and raised her hand like she was going to chop my face.
Lean May gently pulled her back by the collar. “That’s enough. Let’s go get lunch. You two get along too well,” she said calmly.
My heart sped up, and I felt my knees weaken.
> Damn. Nova’s terrifying. <
They continued down the stairs. I clutched my chest, took a deep breath, and followed.
“Jow,” Lean May suddenly said over her shoulder, “after lunch with Nova, meet me on the rooftop. We need to do something important. No—we have to do something important.”
“Important?” I repeated, puzzled. “We don’t have any group activities, though…”
“It’s called ‘letting go’? Liberation? Whatever that means…”
> Now I’m really confused. <
We finally reached the ground floor and made our way into the crowded canteen. We got separated almost immediately—pushed aside by students squeezing into the already long lines.
It took me 30 minutes to buy lunch.
I made my way to the club organization building and climbed the stairs to the floor where the supernatural club room was located.
The door was already open. Inside, I saw Clay hunched over her laptop, eating lunch beside it.
As usual, the others weren’t around—no Lyndon, no Maryam, and certainly no Nova, who was probably still glued to Lean May.
I stepped in, sat on the tiled floor, and leaned against the wall about a meter away from Clay.
“Busy?” I asked to start the conversation.
She shot me an annoyed look. “Why am I always the one who has to process these?”
Her fingers pounded the keyboard with growing frustration.
“Hey, you’ll break it like that. Give it to me if you’re that tired of it.”
She glared, then groaned, burying her hands in her hair and scratching at her scalp.
> What the hell’s going on with her? <
“There’s been an influx of paranormal experience submissions—from university students, even junior high and college kids.”
“Paranormal experiences? What for?”
“For our club activity. You didn’t know?” she snapped. “Each club has to organize at least one activity per month, or else we get disbanded.”
“No wonder you’re stressed.”
“Stress? You’re one to talk! You’re part of this club, too!” she shouted.
She shoveled a spoonful of rice—drenched in ketchup—into her mouth.
“What’s your viand?” I asked. She shot me a death glare, moved her lunchbox to show me: tocino and ketchup.
“Wow. You really need to cut back on sweet stuff, Clay. Not scared of diabetes?”
Her brows drew together. “You’re wrong. Diabetes should be scared of me,” she declared proudly.
She took three more bites before returning to her frantic typing.
I opened my own lunch: rice, siomai, two ripe mango slices, and a small plastic packet of salt.
“You eat mangoes?” I asked, taking a sip from a plastic pouch of iced water.
“No. I’m not pregnant,” she said nonchalantly.
I choked, coughing hard.
“Hey! That cough sounds serious. Better get checked.”
> You bitch! That’s on you!<
“Idiot…” I muttered.
I finished the iced water and started eating.
---
After lunch, I stuffed the empty styro and utensils into the plastic bag. I wasn’t full—still hungry, honestly.
I pulled out my wallet. Ten pesos. Just that, plus my national and elementary school IDs.
I let out a loud sigh. “I’m broke.”
Clay burst out laughing.
“You spend way too much,” she scolded.
> Mind your own business… <
“Want a loan? You still look hungry. The worms inside you must be having a feast.”
> Gross. You’re a girl—how can you say something like that? <
“No thanks. I’ll just eat at Grandpa’s later.”
“Suit yourself. Shame—I was being generous for once.”
“Shut up. You obviously have an agenda.”
She scoffed.
> She’s totally trying to make me do her work. Slick. <
“Jow, let’s switch. Help me finish this. My fingers are dying. We’re past the deadline…”
I smacked my forehead.
“So we *did* have a club activity! And you didn’t say anything?! Finish it yourself. I have to meet someone on the rooftop.”
“You’re choosing to hang out instead of helping the club?” she said, lips pouting, eyes wide like a begging puppy.
I sighed. “It’s about Lean May.”
She shot up from her seat and walked over, plopping down next to me, leaning against the same wall.
She covered her mouth. “Is this... development?” she asked eagerly.
I grabbed her head. “No!”
“Ow, violent much!” she yelped, pushing my hand away and scooting a little farther.
“You’re imagining weird things again.”
She gently rubbed her scalp. “So what is it then?”
I paused. “She said we need to do something important. I don’t know what. We haven’t talked since the day we both fainted on the rooftop.”
Clay stared at the ceiling. “Something’s fishy… Want me to come with you?”
“No.”
“What! You want her all to yourself?”
“You’re out of your mind!”
> Her fantasies are getting out of hand… <
Clay suddenly fell silent.
Her eyes darkened, brows lowering, teeth clenched.
> Wait—what’s happening? Is she mad? Does she really want to come with me that badly? <
My heartbeat spiked. A cold, heavy air filled the room, chilling me to the bone.
> Should I leave? What excuse do I use? <
“C-Clay?”
She suddenly smiled—eyes shut, face calm.
> What the hell is with this fake serenity? <
She stood, brushed her skirt, and turned back to her laptop.
“Fine. Go alone, alien boy,” she said. “By the way, how’s your vision? You’re not using your ability, right?”
“No. I’m protecting my eyesight. I don’t want to lose it.”
She glanced back with a soft smile, cheeks faintly pink.
“Very good,” she said sweetly.
> C-Cute… <
Clay’s face began to glow. Then her whole body.
I blinked. Still glowing.
> Crap. I need to get out of here. <
Ten heartbeats in two seconds. My chest burned, heat crawling up my neck and face.
“I’m heading to the rooftop. I’ll update you later, Miss President,” I said, getting up.
She didn’t reply. I took the hint and left.
I climbed the stairs for two minutes and reached the rooftop door. I gripped the knob, twisted it, and slowly pushed it open.
A hot gust of wind hit me—rough and abrasive.
I stepped out onto the sun-scorched rooftop, eyes scanning for the benches under the shaded area.
I scratched my head when I saw her.
Lean May was already there, sitting on a bench like she’d been waiting for hours.
> She beat me here. So... it really was important. But what? <
“Lean May!” I called and walked toward her.
She waved when she saw me. As I got within a meter, she stood and smiled.
“Good. You’re here, Eyeden Ylliard Hayle,” she said gently. “Let’s begin.”
“Begin what?” I asked, clutching my chest as it pounded harder. My breath started to hitch.
“You need to calm down first. We can’t have you passing out again,” she said, turning her back to me. “Jow, let’s remove our string of destiny.”
The moment she said that, my left pinky throbbed and began to itch.
> What the hell? What did Nova tell her? <
Without hesitation, I activated my ability to see the strings of fate.
From my left pinky, a glowing thread extended outward—connected directly to Lean May’s pinky.
It shimmered brightly, pulsating, pulling us gently toward each other.
To be continued.