Ting-tong.
Jenny jolted upright, her dolls tumbling from her lap. She scrambled down, the blanket slipping off her shoulders. She darted across the bright, noisy room.
Her small fingers fumbled for the keys, jingling loudly as she rushed to the main door.
Jenny pressed her cheek against the door, her voice small but sharp. "Who?"
"Me." It was her mother's voice.
Jenny's lips broke into a grin. She unlocked the bolt and pulled the heavy door open.
Her mother stood there, with two tired figures beside her—Jenny's elder sister and brother, both still in their middle school.
Jenny's eyes lit up as her mother slipped a phone into her hand. Nokia, its buttons smooth, blinked awake with the press of her thumb. She immediately scrolled through the tiny icons until God of War loaded, the pixelated hero flashing onto the screen.
She sat cross-legged on the floor, her brother Elliott plopping down beside her. His dark hair stuck slightly to his forehead, and his eyes glimmered as he leaned closer.
"Let's take turns playing it," he said eagerly.
"Okay," Jenny chirped, handing him the phone when her turn was over. The two huddled together, the glow of the screen pulling them deeper into their own little world.
---
Midnight.
The house had quieted. Only the steady hum of the ceiling fan stirred the stillness.
Jenny lay awake on her bed, the mattress slightly lumpy beneath her.
Without warning, her sister leaned over and stuffed the soft earbuds into her ears. Jenny flinched, eyes widening, a small gasp slipping past her lips.
Her elder sister, fifteen, lay propped on her elbows, a grin flickering across her face in the dim light. Her eyes gleamed with mischief, reflecting the faint glow from the phone screen she held.
"I brought these today. Now listen to this," she whispered.
Her sister scrolled, swiping gently, and then a sound began in the earbuds, it filled the small, dark room with a melody sound.
Jenny's jaw fell open slightly. Her eyes gleamed with a different kind of glow. Her gaze went to the ceiling fan, tracing the faint outlines of the fan blades spinning, but her mind was elsewhere — somewhere inside the melody.
Notes flowed around her, full and rich, curling into the corners of the room and folding around her chest.
It was alive.
Beautiful.
Her breathing slowed. And her body froze.
"It's like we're in a concert, right?" her sister whispered, tinged with secret excitement.
Jenny nodded slowly, unsure if words could capture it.
Her sister's grin widened. She pulled the headphones out gently and tucked them into her own ear.
"Don't tell mother," she whispered conspiratorially, a playful wink accompanying her words.
Jenny's gaze lingered on the earbuds. Her chest tightened slightly, a strange flutter she didn't understood — the beginning of something she hadn't known that could be the dead of her.
---
New Year.
The streets shimmered with color, cards clipped on threads that fluttered with the breeze in the shops. Jenny stood by a display of New Year cards.
Her father waited, one leg propped on the ground from the bike.
"Done?" he asked with a faint smile.
Jenny turned, her eyes bright. "Yes, Papa."
She climbed onto the bike, her tiny hands gripping the side of his jacket as they rode through the cold air. The wind stung her cheeks, but she didn't mind — her mind was already at school.
---
The bell rang softly as she entered the building. On the third floor, she reached her classroom, the heavy bag tugging at her shoulders.
She paused by the door, peering in.
Near the window sat a girl with a high ponytail and crisp bangs — her posture straight, her uniform immaculate.
Her name was Eza.
Her laugh was clear, the kind that made others turn their heads. Julie and Anny leaned close to her, giggling about something Jenny couldn't catch.
But Eza didn't looked interested in both Anny or Julie, her eyes were on her deskmate, a girl with clean bob.
Name Sam.
"She's so cool," Jenny whispered, barely audible even to herself.
Eza's eyes flicked toward her — just for a second — and Jenny froze, breath catching. Then, as if burned, she dropped her gaze to the floor.
The back of her neck grew warm. She walked to her seat in the second row.
She sat down, after setting her things neatly on the desk, she slipped her hand into the front pocket of her bag.
And she took out the New Year cards.
Bright paper with printed flowers, bold borders.
"Here," she said softly, placing a card on Julie's desk.
Julie looked up, surprised for a second, then smiled. "Thanks, Jenny."
"Happy New year." Jenny said.
Next was Anny. Jenny placed another card near her notebook.
When she reached Eza's desk, her heartbeat quickened.
Eza was laughing about something Sam had said, her eyes bright and her ponytail bouncing as she turned.
"Happy New Year," she murmured.
Eza's laughter softened. "Thank you, Jenny," she said, her smile easy — effortless — the kind that stayed in Jenny's mind long after.
Sam grinned and reached into her own bag. "Hey — I got one for you too."
Jenny blinked, caught off guard, as Sam pulled out a neatly folded card with a ribbon sticker on the corner and held it out to her.
"For me?" Jenny asked quietly.
"Of course," Sam said. "Happy New Year. Jenny."
---
The classroom door opened again, and the chatter dimmed. Their teacher — Miss Pots — entered, holding a stack of papers pressed neatly against her chest.
Miss Potts, sat at her desk, the stack of test papers resting beside her.
"Good morning, class."
"Good morning, teacher," the room echoed back.
One by one everyone received their papers.
"Julie," the class teacher called.
Anny got up hesitantly.
"You're not studying, Julie. I want to see your parents. Bring your diary."
She returned to her seat, folding the test paper into a book before taking her diary out. Jenny's gaze followed her — curious, quiet.
Then, her own name was called.
"Jenny."
She stood and walked forward, hands clasped behind her back.
"Well done, Jenny," the teacher said with a smile, handing her the paper. "You scored the highest in the class."
A few heads turned to her.
The teacher continued, "Everyone else should learn from her."
And everyone eyes followed her.
Jenny's heart skipped — warmth bloomed across her chest. She walked back to her seat, anny asked for her test paper and then so did Julie while Eza looked on her own test paper.
---
After the test papers were distributed, Miss Potts adjusted her glasses and looked up from her desk.
"Listen, everyone. For the school magazine — whoever is interested, submit your drawings or poems within this week."
A ripple of murmurs spread through the class, papers rustling.
Eza immediately pulled out her diary. The soft scratch of her pen was steady, deliberate — her handwriting flowing with practiced confidence. Jenny's eyes lingered on the motion — the tilt of Eza's wrist, the little flick she made at the end of each letter.
Without realizing, Jenny opened her own diary and wrote it down too, her letters small and round, pressed too close together, as if she was afraid of being seen copying.
"Now," Miss Potts said, clapping once, "let's begin with questions."
A knock came at the door.
Two teachers stood outside, one holding a clipboard.
"Sorry to interrupt, Miss Potts," said the one in front, smiling. "We just need a quick word."
"Yes, please come in," Miss Potts replied.
The visiting teacher turned to the students. "We're organizing a New Year function," she said brightly. "Girls — who among you know how to dance?"
Chairs squeaked as several hands went up — Eza's, Julie's, Sam's. Excited laughter filled the air.
"You're a great dancer, Sam," Eza teased, nudging her. "You'll do amazing again this year."
Sam grinned.
Jenny's hand stayed where it was.
"Jenny?" the teacher asked, scanning the room. "You should join too."
"Okay, teacher," said Jenny. Confident and happy.
"Good." The teacher smiled and jotted her name down on the clipboard. "We'll start practice tomorrow."
Jenny turned slightly toward the bench behind her. Eza sat laughing with Sam, her ponytail swaying each time she threw her head back.
Jenny smiled faintly, her eyes tracing the curve of that smile — the way Eza's laughter seemed to fill the whole room.
During the break, laughter spilled into the hallway, lunchboxes snapped open, footsteps echoed down the stairs. The air smelled faintly of fried snacks and chalk dust.
She had finished the few biscuits she had brought from home and walked slowly to the dustbin, her shoes scuffing softly against the floor.
There, half-crumpled, almost hidden beneath trash, lay the same New Year card she had given to Eza.
The card on which she wrote — the words "Happy New Year, Eza" in her neatest handwriting. The glitter clung to to it, caught the light like it didn't yet understood that it had been abandoned.
Jenny froze. Her chest tightened in a slow, aching squeeze. Her fingers itched to reach out, to reclaim it. But she didn't.
A dull ache spread from her chest into her stomach, a hollow, gnawing hurt that had nothing to do with hunger. The laughter from the other students felt sharp now, cutting into the quiet space she had retreated into.
For a long moment, Jenny stood there, staring at the card, the glitter flickering faintly like it was mocking her.
Finally, she turned away, careful not to let anyone see her face.