Chapter 8
The middle finger
Kiara's point of view
It has been two weeks in since I transferred into this school and everyone was close, kind of. We were all friends but Kieran He is messed up. Today is not my day but what can I do my rude and annoying parents are gone for vacation for 2 months. We have been working a lot for this competition and it's 2 weeks until we get there. It is 80 degrees out and I am going to faint. Finally I make it to school and sit in my seat. I feel faint but it's fine I'm fine everything is fine. Sir passes out a math work sheet for homework and leaves the classroom.
We are practicing the song which we are in the middle of learning. The song is fast and the moves are hard you move from the ground to the floor and back it's very tiring. We are in the middle the suddenly Kiran stops the music
"Stop! What are we doing? This is not going to make us win!" He paced in front of us, waving his arms like an over-caffeinated flamingo. "Bla bla bla—" he kept ranting, not even taking a breath. "Especially you, Kiara!"
I blinked. "Huh?"
He marched right up to me. "Your hands! What were you even doing? Do you know what your hands do? Do you know how they work?"
I stared at him for a second. The whole class watched, waiting for me to shrink. But no—if he wanted an answer, he was getting one.
"Well yeah," I said, slipping into a sweet smile. "My thumb is for texting… my pinky helps with my handwriting… my ring finger is for when I get married… my pointer finger is for pointing…"
I paused.
"And my middle finger," I added, raising it slowly, "is made for you."
The studio went dead silent.
Even the music stopped—as if the speakers themselves were shocked. For a full three seconds, no one moves.
It's like the entire studio collectively forgets how to breathe.
Then—
"OH MY GOD—" someone whispers, way too loudly.
A couple of the boys burst into laughter, trying to muffle it behind their hands. One of them actually falls onto a mat because he's laughing so hard. Another goes, "Bro, she COOKED you," which only makes the laughter louder.
But Kieran?
Kieran doesn't laugh.
His jaw clenches so tight I'm surprised it doesn't crack. A vein actually appears on his forehead—didn't know people really got those. He looks like he's trying to decide between yelling or combusting on the spot.
"You think you're funny?" he finally snaps.
I shrug, pretending my heart isn't thudding in my chest. "Only when I am."
A couple more snickers echo around the room.
Kieran looks around at all the guys losing it, and that only makes him more furious. His eyes snap back to me, sharp and angry.
"You know what?" he says, stepping closer, way too close. "If we lose this comp, it's because of YOU. Because you can't keep up. Because you don't take anything seriously."
The room goes quieter. Even the boys who were laughing stop.
And that's when something in me snaps right back.
"Funny," I say, soft but steady. "Because every time we mess up, it's you who stops the entire routine to throw one of your tantrums."
One of the boys whispers, "She's got a point…"
Kieran whirls on him. "Shut up!"
Then back at me. "You don't even belong in this class."
That one stings.
Hard.
But I don't let it show.
"Maybe not," I say, lifting my chin, "but at least I don't spend all my time acting like the world revolves around me."
A few gasps. Someone mutters, "Damn…"
Kieran opens his mouth—probably to scream—but before he can, the classroom door rattles. Our teacher isn't back yet, but everyone suddenly pretends to be stretching or practicing.
Kieran glares at me one last time, eyes burning.
"This isn't over."
He walks off to the other side of the room.
And just like that, rehearsal starts again…
except everyone keeps glancing between us like they're waiting for round two.