A sharp knock shattered the quiet afternoon.
"Princess Miss Richards!"
I almost tripped over the last step as I rushed downstairs. The voice was unmistakably Chris's—loud, dramatic, and completely unnecessary.
Behind me, my mum looked up from the couch and raised one eyebrow slowly, the kind of look that meant she had already formed a very suspicious conclusion.
"That sounded like a boy's voice," she said casually.
I froze halfway to the door.
"I thought you said people were coming for a project."
"Mum," I groaned under my breath.
She leaned back against the couch with a mischievous smile.
"Just saying."
I quickly opened the door before she could tease me any further.
Standing outside were Chris and Amanda.
Chris was grinning like he had just pulled off the funniest joke in the world, while Amanda stood beside him shaking her head at his theatrics.
"You guys are early," I said.
Chris shrugged.
"Five minutes early isn't early."
Amanda checked the time on her phone. "It's 4:55. We're just… responsibly punctual."
I stepped aside so they could come in.
The moment Chris entered the living room, his eyes landed on my mum.
Immediately, his posture changed. His shoulders straightened, and the playful grin vanished.
"Oh—good afternoon, ma!" he said quickly.
Amanda followed his lead.
"Good afternoon, ma."
My mum smiled warmly.
"Good afternoon. You must be Sharon's friends."
Chris nodded. "Yes, ma. I'm Chris, and this is Amanda. Sorry about the way I knocked earlier. I didn't know you were home."
My mum waved it off.
"Don't worry. I've heard much louder noises at the hospital."
That broke the tension a little, and everyone laughed.
Chris looked around the room. "Where's Daniel?"
"He hasn't arrived yet," I said.
Chris checked his phone. "Well… it's still not five yet."
My mum gestured toward the couch.
"Sit down first," she said. "Let me get to know the people who are taking my daughter's time."
I watched in quiet amusement as Chris and Amanda suddenly became the most polite human beings on earth.
They sat neatly.
"Yes, ma."
"No, ma."
"School is fine, ma."
If someone had walked in right then, they would think these two were the most disciplined students in Briston High.
My mum asked them about school, their homes, and how they knew me. They answered politely, though Chris occasionally glanced at me like he wanted to laugh.
Then came another knock.
This one was calmer. Two steady taps. I walked to the door and opened it.
Daniel stood there, slightly out of breath, as if he had hurried.
"Hi, Daniel," I said.
"Hi."
The moment we walked back into the living room, Chris raised his hand.
"There he is!"
Amanda smiled. "Right on time."
Daniel greeted my mum politely.
"Good evening, ma."
"Good evening," she replied kindly.
Since everyone had arrived, I gestured toward the stairs.
"My room is upstairs."
Chris clapped his hands once.
"Alright, team meeting!"
My mum stood up and stretched.
"I'll leave you all to your project," she said. "I need some sleep before my night shift."
We all said good night as we headed upstairs. My room suddenly felt smaller with four of us inside.
Chris sat on the floor immediately like he owned the place. Amanda sat on the edge of my bed, Daniel leaned against my desk, and I took my chair.
For a moment, nobody said anything.
Then Chris sighed loudly.
"Okay. Let's face reality."
Amanda crossed her arms.
"We don't even have a group name yet."
Daniel added calmly, "And we still don't know what we're presenting."
I stared at my notebook. Everything that had happened since yesterday felt sudden. Too sudden.
Group formation. Leadership. Assignment. And somehow I ended up leading it.
Chris snapped his fingers suddenly.
"A drama!"
Amanda tilted her head. "That could work."
"But this is a literature club," Daniel said. "There should be poetry involved."
I spoke without really thinking.
"What if it's both?"
They all looked at me.
"A poetic play," I said slowly. "A short drama… but written in poetry."
The room went quiet for a second.
Then Chris grinned.
"Wait… that's actually brilliant."
Daniel nodded thoughtfully. "It shows creativity and performance."
Amanda leaned forward excitedly. "Yes! Each character could speak in poetic lines."
I quickly started writing as ideas began forming.
"Okay," I said. "What should the story be about?"
Chris immediately raised a finger.
"Love."
Amanda rolled her eyes.
"Of course you'd say that."
Daniel chuckled.
"What about dreams? Or fear of failure?"
That made me pause. Fear. Hope. Dreams.
Something clicked in my mind.
"What if the story is about someone struggling to find courage?" I said.
Amanda nodded slowly. "That sounds powerful."
Daniel added, "We could represent emotions as characters."
Chris leaned forward. "Like what?"
I started listing them.
"Fear."
"Hope," Daniel added.
"Doubt," Chris said.
Amanda smiled. "And courage."
I wrote the words down.
"Four characters," I murmured.
Chris leaned back.
"This is starting to sound serious."
Daniel pointed at my notebook.
"And Sharon writes the poetry."
I looked up immediately.
"Wait—me?"
Amanda smiled.
"You're the poet."
Chris nodded. "You're the brain of the group."
Before I could respond, my mum's voice echoed from downstairs.
"Sharon!"
"Yes, Mum!"
"Come take these fries for your friends!"
Chris gasped dramatically. "Did she say fries?"
I went downstairs and came back with a tray.
Within seconds, Chris had already grabbed one.
"This meeting just became productive."
We kept talking while eating. Ideas bounced around the room. Characters. Dialogue. Scenes.
By the time the fries were gone, the sky outside had turned orange.
Daniel checked the time.
"It's getting late."
Amanda nodded. "We should go."
Chris stood up.
"But tomorrow," he said, pointing at my notebook, "we continue this masterpiece."
Downstairs, my mum was getting ready for work.
"Dinner is in the fridge," she told me. "Just warm it later."
I nodded.
"I will."
She kissed my forehead before leaving.
"I'll be back around eight in the morning."
After everyone left, the house became quiet again.
I sat at the dining table with my dinner and opened my notebook. Fear. Hope. Doubt. Courage. A poetic play.
I tapped my pen against the page. They believed I could write it. And somehow… I have to make sure I didn't disappoint them.
Outside, night slowly took over the sky. Inside my head, the first lines of the poem had already begun to whisper.