Everything followed a familiar pattern: Mrs. Kang, their polite-but-firm adviser, would go around asking for updates. Flora, in her secretarial duties, would type minutes at warp speed.
Normally, Riya would find comfort in the gentle rhythm of Flora’s typing.
Today, it grated.
Her thoughts kept drifting—Kian’s iced tea, the unread stack of books waiting in the library, the fact that she’d stayed up until two a.m. rewriting her Caltech essay, convinced it was the worst thing she’d ever written. She’d woken up this morning with her face pressed to her keyboard and a stress headache thudding behind her eyes.
So when Mrs. Kang called her name not once but three times, Riya nearly jumped out of her seat.
“I’m so sorry—what did you say?” she asked, blinking fast. Heads were already turning.
“I was asking about the flyers for the Talent Show,” said Mrs. Kang. “You said you’d have a draft ready today?”
Riya’s stomach plummeted. She’d completely forgotten.
And the worst part?She’dbeen the one to volunteer for the task.
Her pulse hammered in her ears as she scrambled for an excuse, something to explain this glaring lapse.
But Quin beat her to it.
“Oh crap, I forgot,” they said smoothly. “I told Riya I’d handle them. I had this whole design idea, but I didn’t finish in time. My bad for not emailing ahead.”
Riya stared at them.
“I see,” Mrs. Kang said slowly. Her gaze lingered on Riya a moment longer than necessary.
“Well, I did notice the signup sheet by the library—there’s good turnout already. But we’ll still need flyers posted.”
“Got it, Mrs. K. I’ll work on it tonight,” said Quin cheerfully, shooting Riya a wink. “Sound good,Riya?”
It took Riya a second to respond.
Quin was covering for her.Quin, of all people. The same Quin who had once emailed the principal with the subject line“urgent,”only to request two-hour lunch periods to account for the “poor, poor souls” with “irritable bowel syndrome” who “by medical necessity, need to eat slower.” Andnow here they were, catching Riya mid-flounder and acting like it was nothing.
“That... that sounds great,” she said tightly.
She was mortified. And beneath it, something worse: a tight, restless guilt she couldn’t quite shake.
Mrs. Kang moved on to the logistics of their upcoming senior trip to the art museum, but Riya barely heard.
Her eyes stayed on the agenda, the words all blurring together.
“Sooo...” Quin drawled, their mischievous blue eyes dancing like a cat who’d just caught a mouse. “Don’t you have something to say to me?”
They strolled ahead, hands folded behind their neck.
Riya bit her lip, bracing herself. Truth be told, being in Quin’s debt was... irritating. But she supposed there were worse fates.
“Thank you,” she muttered.
Quin turned around to face her, cupping their ear. “Mm, sorry, didn’t quite catch that.”
“I saidthank you,” she repeated, glaring. “Happy now?”
“Oh,immensely.” Quin beamed. “But it’s all part of my presidential duties. Protecting my council. I’m so honorable, don’t you agree?”
“Uh-huh.”
