The classroom hummed with the usual morning energy—chairs scraping, laughter bouncing off the walls, the occasional thwack of a textbook hitting a desk. Jazik slipped inside just as the bell rang, the door clicking shut behind him with quiet finality. His eyes adjusted to the fluorescent glow, scanning the room until they landed on Ivan, already seated near the back.
Ivan was a mountain of a boy, broad shoulders hunched slightly as if to make himself smaller, his dark hair falling over his forehead. He looked up as Jazik approached, and for a second, the usual stoic expression flickered—just a hint of warmth in his deep brown eyes. A small nod was all it took.
"Morning," Jazik said, sliding into the desk beside him. His voice was soft, barely rising above the chatter, but Ivan heard it. He always did.
Ivan's fingers tapped once against the wood—his version of a greeting. "You're late."
Jazik exhaled, a quiet sound that might've been a laugh if he'd let it. "Traffic."
Ivan didn't press. He never did. Instead, he tilted his head just enough to study Jazik's face, the way he always did when he was trying to read something unspoken. "You look tired."
Jazik's fingers twitched toward the scar on his abdomen, hidden beneath his hoodie. The Gavv organ pulsed faintly, a reminder of last night's fight. "Didn't sleep well."
Jazik leaned closer, his voice dropping even softer amid the classroom rustle.
"How're you and Mylène?"
Ivan's lips curved—just a small tilt, the kind that lit his gray-blue eyes. He nodded once, solid as ever.
"Good. She's… planting herbs today. In the club garden."
Jazik felt a quiet warmth settle in his chest. Ivan didn't talk much, but when he did, it carried weight—like the steady beat of drums he played. Seeing that rare ease on his friend's face chased away the last fog of his nightmare.
"Glad it's going well."
The bell rang again, sharper this time, and Miss Bustier's heels clicked against the floor as she strode to the front of the class. Jazik leaned back in his chair, letting the familiar rhythm of the room wash over him. For now, at least, he could pretend everything was normal.
The break bell rang sharp and bright, cutting through the low hum of chatter like a starter pistol. Jazik lingered by his desk, watching sunlight slant across the scuffed linoleum, casting long shadows from the desks. Ivan had already packed his bag, moving with that careful slowness of his, but the room buzzed now—kids shoving chairs, voices rising in the sudden freedom.
Kim's laugh boomed first, drawing every eye.
"Come on, Alix! One more dare. You chicken out on the last one, remember?"
Jazik turned. There she was—Alix Kubdel, short and wired tight like a coiled spring, her pink hair spiked wild under that backward red cap. Rollerblades strapped to her backpack gleamed in the light, her tan arms crossed over a graphic tee, turquoise eyes narrowed. She was the school's elite rollerblader, always zipping through the halls like she owned the speed of sound, and Kim... well, Kim was the self-crowned king of challenges, the tall athlete with the cocky grin who turned everything into a contest.
Alix's shoulders tightened, her fingers drumming against her elbow.
"King of hot air, more like. What's it this time, Le Chiến? Eat a worm? Kiss Chloé's boots?"
Kim leaned in, thumbs hooked in his belt loops, his track jacket straining over broad shoulders.
"Nah. Bigger. I bet I can beat you in a straight sprint—shoes off, no blades. Loser carries the winner's books for a month."
The class edged closer, a circle forming. Nino whistled low. Alya pulled out her phone.
Alix barked a laugh, sharp and triumphant, but Jazik caught the flash in her eyes—real irritation, shoulders hunching like she'd taken one too many pokes.
"You're on about that again? Fine, but make it worth my time."
Kim's grin widened, all teeth and bravado.
"Scared yet?"
"Scared? Of you? Dream on, slowpoke."
She shoved past him, cap tilting as she jabbed a finger at his chest. Kim rocked back, laughing louder, but didn't budge. The air crackled with it—their back-and-forth, fast and clipped, like they'd done this dance a hundred times. Jazik stayed put, arms folded. He'd seen enough fights to know when words were the real weapons.
"Enough!" Alix snapped, hands slamming onto a desk. Heads whipped around. "You want a challenge? Real stakes? Trocadéro, this weekend. Full race—blades versus your feet. I win, you shut your mouth on dares for the rest of the year. No more games."
Kim froze, grin faltering just a beat. Then it roared back.
"And if I win?"
Alix didn't hesitate. She kicked her heel lightly against her blade, the scrape echoing.
"You get my rollerblades. Custom ones. Gone."
Gasps rippled through the group. Jazik's gaze sharpened. Those blades weren't just gear to Alix—they were her legs, her speed, the thing she polished every night like her family's pocket watch. He'd overheard her once, bragging about how her dad got them custom from some Louvre connection, tied to her mom's old stories. Pride like that didn't bend easy.
Max pushed his glasses up, stepping forward with his tablet glowing.
"Clarifying terms for the record. Course: standard Trocadéro loop, three laps. Start line at the fountain, finish at the steps. No interference. Witnessed by class representatives. Agreed?"
Kim thrust out his hand, eyes locked on Alix.
"Deal."
She gripped it hard, turquoise eyes blazing.
"Deal."
Cheers exploded—Nino pumping a fist, Rose clapping with Juleka's quiet smile beside her. Alya filmed it all, grinning wide.
"Whoa, this is gold! We need a banner. Something epic. Marinette—you're on art duty, right?"
Marinette blinked from her spot by the window, sketchbook clutched tight. Jazik watched her hesitate, that familiar tug in her expression—the one where she wanted to say yes before her brain caught up.
"Uh—me? Sure! I mean, yeah, totally. Banner sounds perfect."
The class whooped, piling on ideas—neon colors, speed lines, "Alix vs. Kim: Clash of Titans!" Marinette nodded along, already flipping pages, but Jazik saw it: the quick glance at her overflowing bag, the way her smile stretched a little too thin. She never said no, not when eyes turned her way.
"Weekend at Trocadéro," Max confirmed, tapping his screen. "This will be legendary."
The bell rang again, scattering them back to seats, but the energy lingered—whispers, grins, bets flying low. Jazik slid into his chair beside Ivan, the promise of the race humming like distant thunder. Alix passed, flashing him a cocky wink on her way. Kim flexed, already shadow-running in place.
Jazik exhaled slow. Normal school stuff. Harmless. For now.
Ivan leaned over, voice a low rumble.
"You betting?"
Jazik's lips quirked—just a hint.
"Not my style."
But his eyes stayed on Alix, blades glinting as she strapped them tighter. Stakes like that... they cut deep.
The cafeteria buzzed with the clatter of trays and the warm scent of fresh bread wafting from the line. Jazik grabbed his lunch—a simple sandwich and apple—and scanned the crowded tables. Marinette sat alone near the window, her sketchbook open, pencil flying across the page amid her overflowing bag.
He slid into the seat across from her, tray clicking softly against the table.
"You okay?"
Marinette looked up, blue eyes wide, dimples flashing in a quick smile. She tucked a pigtail behind her ear.
"Yeah! Totally. Just... brainstorming the banner."
Jazik unwrapped his sandwich, watching her fidget with the pencil. He'd overheard Alya piling on the ideas—neon, speed lines, the works. Marinette's bag already burst with half-finished designs, homework spilling out.
"Overheard the race hype. Banner sounds big. You sure you can handle it?"
She waved it off, voice bright but edged with that familiar rush.
"It's fine! The class is counting on me. I got this—watch, it'll be epic."
Jazik nodded, taking a bite. He chewed slowly, then met her gaze.
"If you need help, say it. I can cut paper. Or hold pencils."
Marinette's smile softened, genuine warmth lighting her face. She reached across, squeezing his hand lightly.
"You're so thoughtful, Jazik. Thanks."
He shrugged, heat creeping up his neck, but the knot in his chest eased. For now.
***
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