"Yeah, take it, dearie," Mrs. McClain said, blowing me exaggerated kisses.
"So… you wouldn't mind if you all come over for dinner after Zikora's performance in California?" Mom asked smoothly, her gaze locked on Mrs. McClain.
"Yes! Yes! YES!" Zara screamed, bouncing like a kid on too much Fanta.
"Zara, the question wasn't for you," Fred muttered, glaring daggers at her.
"Moron! Don't kill me with that look." Zara rolled her eyes.
"Hey, I'll hit the he—"
"FREDDDD!" Mrs. McClain's voice thundered, dragging out the "d" until Fred shrank back.
"Mom, she—"
"Don't 'Mom' me, okay?"
Fred growled low in his throat, frustrated. Zara, meanwhile, sang, "La la la la la," just to spite him.
"Zara!" Mrs. McClain yanked her ear.
"Ouch! Mom, I'm sorry!" Zara yelped.
"Enough, Mrs. McClain—you're hurting her," Mom said between fits of laughter.
The room was chaos, but at least it felt warm. Until Ann stood up, brushing her skirt smooth.
"Ma Zi, I'll be going. Zi, take care of yourself, okay?"
"Bye, darling. My regards to your mommy." Mom kissed her cheek.
"Bye, Ma Zi!" Ann chirped, heading out.
---
Day 2: Countdown to California
"Fred, just do it. P-please," I said, arms folded, trying to sound firm but desperate.
"No! Zikora, no!" He paced the corridor, clutching a paper like it was life itself. "I don't want to go to California—with you, of all people. And besides, isn't Bernard your boyfriend?"
"Why not?" I pressed, narrowing my eyes.
"Because I said so! Do you want me to spell it out?"
I glared, my patience snapping. "You are coming with me, whether you like it or not."
"Why? Zimba will be there. Ann. Bernard. Just leave me alone!" he shouted, punching the air with each word.
"You don't even have to book a flight. It's a private jet." I smirked, mocking.
"I. Don't. Want. To. Go!" Each word came like a punch, his voice echoing.
"Fine. I'll talk to your mom then."
His eyes flared. "No! Excuse me!" And before I could blink, he shoved me.
I hit the ground, my palms burning against the cold floor. For a second, the world froze. Did Fred Jones just push me?
Tears stung my eyes. I stood slowly, dusting off my black skirt. My throat ached with the effort of swallowing my pride.
From behind me, a handkerchief appeared.
"I am not taking that shit, Fred. I hate you!" I spat, swiping at my tears.
"I'm not Fred. It's Bernard." His voice was soft, shaky.
"Bernard, leave me alone. Don't you get it? LEAVE ME ALONE!" I shouted, bolting into the classroom.
I grabbed my bag and stormed out, tears falling faster now. My chest burned. My ego screamed. My heart—well, I wasn't ready to admit what it wanted.
The gym was empty. Perfect. I sank into a corner, hiding my face. Why did it have to be Fred? Why was he the only one who didn't bow to me, who didn't worship me? And why… why did it hurt so bad when he pushed me away?
I slammed my fist into the wall, groaning. He doesn't care. He'll never care. And I hate that I care that he doesn't care.
"Hey! What are you doing here?" A voice snapped me out of my spiral. A playful slap landed on my back.
"What?" I snapped, wiping my tears.
"What are you doing here?"
"Ann, please. Leave me alone."
"Why?" She sat beside me, her face softening.
I turned to her. My eyes were puffy, swollen, pathetic. She saw it all.
"You've missed two classes, Zi. You're here, crying. Who did this? Tell me!" She grabbed my cheeks, wiping my tears.
"I'm not crying. I just… want to be alone."
"But—"
"Ann! Please, let me be!"
Her eyes hardened. "Fine. But I'm not letting this slide. Whoever hurt you? I'll make sure they regret it." She stood, fire blazing in her eyes.
---
Ann's POV
Zi was broken. And I couldn't stand it.
I stormed back into class, slamming my hands on a desk. "Listen up! If I find out one of you made my bestie cry—miss two classes—just know I won't spare you!"
My eyes zeroed in on Fred. He stared back, expressionless, then rolled his eyes like he didn't care. My blood boiled.
Bernard jumped to his feet. "I'll go see her!" And he sprinted out of the room.
I clenched my fists, eyes still locked on Fred. If it was him… God help him. Because I won't.
---
Author's Note
Oooiiii 👀 you saw that, right? Fred just pushed Zi. Bernard's circling. Ann's ready to throw hands. And Zi? She's stuck between hate, hurt, and something scarier—feelings.
Next chapter? Let's just say someone's about to confess something they shouldn't. Stay tuned. 💥