Word spread quickly—too quickly—that the teachers were in a meeting. Classes were paused, students left waiting, whispers bouncing from desk to desk. Someone said, "They'll take long." Someone else said, "We're free." And before caution could catch up, most of them were already packing their bags.
Blue hesitated.
"Are we really allowed?" she whispered, glancing toward the empty doorway.
Elise was already halfway out of her seat.
"They didn't say we couldn't."
Asha frowned. "This feels illegal."
But the hallway was filling, footsteps echoing, laughter rising. The pull of it—going home early, beating the clock—was stronger than reason.
Blue followed them.
By morning, her stomach was in knots.
And then it happened.
They were called out class by class.
Blue's hands were cold as they stood together—her, Elise, and Asha—shoulders stiff, eyes fixed on the floor outside the staff room. The air felt thick, like even breathing too loudly might seal their fate.
"I knew we shouldn't have left," Asha whispered, panic threading her voice.
Elise swallowed. "Maybe they won't notice."
Blue didn't answer. Her heart was pounding too hard. She hated trouble—hated the feeling of disappointing authority, hated knowing she'd crossed a line on purpose. Her mind raced through excuses she didn't believe herself.
I thought we were dismissed. I followed the others. I didn't want to be rude.
None of it sounded convincing.
Inside the room, voices rose and fell. Names were read. Explanations spilled out from different students—some frantic, some careless, some almost convincing. Blue felt smaller with every passing second.
When it was their turn, her throat tightened.
There was a long pause. The kind that stretches painfully.
The office was quieter than Blue expected. Too quiet.
The ticking clock on the wall sounded louder than it should have, each second stretching her nerves tighter. Blue sat stiffly between Elise and Asha, her hands folded in her lap, eyes fixed on the edge of the desk. Across from them, the teacher flipped through a register slowly, deliberately, as if letting the silence do the work first.
"So," the teacher finally said, looking up, "you all decided school was over."
Elise opened her mouth, then closed it again.
Asha cleared her throat. "Sir, we thought—"
"You thought," the teacher interrupted gently, but firmly, "without asking."
Blue felt her chest tighten. She hated this part—the waiting, the judgment, the unspoken disappointment.
"We saw everyone leaving," Elise said quickly, voice rushed. "We didn't want to be the only ones left."
The teacher turned her gaze to Blue.
"And you?" she asked. "What made you leave?"
Blue swallowed. Her voice came out softer than she intended. "I hesitated. But I followed them."
"Hm." The teacher leaned back slightly. "You usually don't follow crowds, Blue."
That stung more than a raised voice would have.
"I know," Blue said quietly. "I should have asked first."
The teacher studied her for a moment, then sighed. "This isn't about leaving early. It's about responsibility."
Asha's fingers twisted nervously in her sweater. "We're sorry, Sir. It won't happen again."
"I've heard that before," the teacher replied. "But I'll choose to believe you—this once."
Elise let out a breath she'd clearly been holding.
The teacher picked up a pen and tapped it lightly against the desk. "You will all write extra work for today's subjects. Consider it a reminder that rules don't disappear just because things seem relaxed."
She paused, then looked directly at Blue again.
"And you," He said more seriously, "I expect better judgment from you. You're capable of leading, not following."
Blue nodded, heat rising to her face. "Yes, Sir."
"Good," the teacher said. "Because next time, there won't be a warning."
They were dismissed shortly after.
The moment they stepped into the hallway, Elise pressed a hand to her chest. "I thought I was done for."
Asha laughed weakly. "I swear my heart stopped when she looked at us."
Blue exhaled slowly, her legs still feeling shaky. "She was right though."
They both looked at her.
"I knew better," Blue added. "I just didn't listen to myself."
Elise nudged her gently. "Well, lesson learned."
Blue nodded, the fear still lingering—but so was something else. A quiet determination not to let that feeling return.
***************
Blue was halfway through her sentence when a sudden hand darted in front of her.
"Hey—!"
By the time she turned, her candy was gone.
"Alan!" Blue spun around just in time to see him sprint toward the last row, laughing as he slid into a seat behind the others.
Elise gasped dramatically. "Did he just—"
"He did," Blue said flatly. "He really did."
Alan peeled the wrapper open with exaggerated slowness. "Finders keepers."
"That was not found," Blue shot back. "That was stolen."
Asher leaned back in his chair, amused. "You gonna go get it?"
Blue glanced at the back seats, then at
Alan's smug grin. "He knows I won't."
"Smart man," Alan said, popping the candy into his mouth. "Excellent flavor choice, by the way."
Blue crossed her arms. "I hope it sticks to your teeth."
Alan grinned wider. "Worth it."
Elise laughed. "You're just enabling him."
"I'm surviving," Blue corrected. "There's a difference."
Alan waved the empty wrapper in the air. "Tragic ending. Truly heartbreaking."
Asher shook his head, chuckling. "You let him get away with everything."
Blue shrugged, smiling despite herself. "He's annoying, but it's temporary ."
Alan pointed at her. "See? She gets me."
"I tolerate you," Blue said. "Big difference."
Blue and Alan were still trading playful jabs over the candy when Mavin and Paul slid into the conversation, their chairs scraping lightly against the floor.
"Wow," Mavin said, shaking his head, "you're letting him steal your candy? Rookie mistake."
Blue rolled her eyes. "It's not about the candy. It's about knowing your limits."
Paul snorted. "Limits? She's basically training him to steal from her. That's encouraging bad behavior."
Alan laughed. "Finally, someone gets me. Thank you, Paul."
Blue turned to him sharply. "I do not encourage anything."
Paul pointed out. "That's encouragement."
"Fine," Blue said, grabbing the edge of her desk dramatically. "I tolerate him. That is not the same as encouragement!"
Mavin leaned back, smirking. "I think tolerating him is basically love disguised as logic."
Blue groaned. "Logic has nothing to do with it. It's self-preservation."
Alan raised an eyebrow. "Sure, sure. That's what they all say before they fall in love with me."
Blue waved a hand. "Keep dreaming."
Paul rolled his eyes. "You're all ridiculous. Why are we even arguing over candy?"
"Because it's artificially sweetened chaos," Alan said. "Much better than plain sugar."
Blue gave him a sharp look. "You're impossible."
Paul leaned back in his chair. "No, the real question is—why are you all giving him this attention? The logical choice would be to ignore him."
Alan gasped theatrically. "Ignore me? Betrayal! You wound me, Paul!"
Blue muttered under her breath, "He does this on purpose."
Mavin laughed. "Of course he does. He's Alan."
Paul shook his head. "And yet you all encourage it. I swear, some of you have no common sense."
Elise, who had been silently observing from the side, finally leaned in. "You guys are all insane. And yes, I include Blue in that."
Blue pointed at her. "You're only saying that because you're sane. And boring."
Asher, who had been scribbling something in his notebook, looked up.
Everyone groaned and laughed at the same time, the noise bouncing around the classroom as the bell rang, signaling the next lesson.