Chapter 1
Everything started with just a small cartoon of milk.
Innocent. Harmless. The kind of harmless that later shows up in court as Exhibit A.
It was a Monday afternoon. I was leaning back in my chair, sketching like the world owed me an art award.
Then—
Splaat.
Something white??
Cold.
Personal.
"What the heck—?"
I turned around.
Amber.
Standing there like she had personally declared war on my existence.
Oh no.
This is not a drill.
This is a funeral. My funeral.
"Care to explain?" I asked, already knowing this was going to end badly.
"No," Amber snapped. "You should know what you’ve done."
I don’t know.
But I’m suddenly very sorry.
"I… don’t remember," I said.
Wrong. Answer.
"You little piece of cow dung—what did you do with my project?"
And then—
Flashback hits like dramatic background music.
Her project.
The masterpiece.
The Mona Lisa of school assignments.
The one I touched.
Gently.
Respectfully.
Like an idiot.
And then—
SMUDGE.
Not a small smudge.
No. A bold, confident, “I ruin lives” kind of smudge.
Back to reality.
"Oh," I said. "That project."
Amber’s eye twitched. "Oh? OH? That’s all you have to say?!"
"I mean… it’s still technically there," I offered weakly.
"TECHNICALLY?" she repeated, looking like she might throw the rest of the milk at my soul.
"You think this is funny?" she said. "You ruined it on purpose, didn’t you? Because you can’t stand someone drawing better than you?"
"Whoa, whoa—better?" I said before my brain could stop my mouth. "Let’s not say things we can’t take back—"
The class collectively gasped.
Somewhere behind me, someone whispered, "Yeah… they’re not surviving this."
Amber stepped closer. Dangerously close.
"I worked on that for three days," she said.
"And I ruined it in three seconds," I admitted. "Efficiency is kind of my thing."
Silence.
Heavy. Judgmental. Slightly impressed silence.
Amber blinked.
Once.
Twice.
"Did you just—" she started.
"Look, in my defense," I said quickly, raising my hands, "your drawing was so good my hand just… slipped out of respect."
"Out of respect?"
"Yes. It was overwhelmed."
"My hand was overwhelmed."
"Extremely. Emotional, even."
Someone snorted.
Amber looked like she was deciding between slapping me or laughing.
"You’re unbelievable," she said.
"I’ve been told," I replied.
She stared at me for a long second… then groaned, dragging a hand down her face.
"I hate you."
"That’s fair," I said. "I’d hate me too."
"It's useless to talk to you. Anyways, from now on, I hope you stay away from me… no, I’m begging you," she said, turning and leaving.
Just like that?
No shouting. No revenge. No dramatic scene.
That’s it?
Stay away from her… yeah, I’d like to.
But for some reason… I can't? Also there is only two more day for submission
And I felt… bad.
Because in these two years of being in the same class, we never really clicked. But every assignment, every competition—
Same marks.
Can you believe that?
Not even one mark difference.
So if she loses just because of my stupid mistake… that’s not right.
I finished my work quickly and went looking for her.
Her friend, Ashley, was near the corridor, scrolling through her phone like she had no stress in life.
"Hey, Ashley, where’s Amber?" I asked.
She looked up, raised an eyebrow. "Wow. You? Looking for Amber? Should I call the principal?"
"Very funny," I said. "Just tell me."
"Relax, Picasso," she smirked. "She left."
"Left? Already?"
"Yeah. Unlike you, some people have emotional damage to process."
"Ouch," I muttered. "Did she say anything?"
Ashley tilted her head. "Yeah. Something about staying away from her. Ring a bell?"
"…I’m working on that," I said.
"Mm-hmm. Good luck ," she added cheerfully, going back to her phone.
Guess I’ll help her tomorrow :i thought
I rode back home on my bike.
"Mom, I’m home," I called, stepping in.
"Oooh, Dan!" she popped out of the kitchen like she’d been waiting dramatically. "Why do you look like someone threw dairy products at you?"
"Because someone did throw dairy products at me."
She paused. "…Low-fat or full drama?"
"Full drama."
"Good. At least it’s premium," she nodded seriously.
"Mom."
"What? Did you deserve it?"
"That’s not the point."
"That means yes."
"Mom."
"Okay, okay," she laughed. "Go change, i will get you somethingto drink"
I got bored at home.
So I threw on my jacket, slipped on my shoes, grabbed my headphones 🎧, and stepped out.
Cold air. Quiet streets.
The park was still alive though. Kids running around, elders chatting, couples pretending they weren’t people-watching.
And then—
A familiar figure.
Cream cardigan. Dusty pink skirt. Uggs. Matching scarf 🧣.
Oh.
It’s her.
I walked closer.
"What are you doing here?" I said, dropping onto the bench beside her.
She flinched slightly. "I think I told you to stay away from me."
"Yeah… about that."
"How far?" I asked.
"Ten feet."
I laughed. "What are you going to do about your painting?"
"Hmm… I’ll think about it," she said calmly, staring ahead.
"Eeh?"
"What? You expected me to cry about it?"
"No— I mean, I could help you. No, actually, I will help you if you want to start over."
"Mm. I’m not starting over. Let’s see where it goes."
"Are you crazy? It was my mistake, so let me—"
"Shh," she cut me off. "Can you shut up for a moment? Let me watch."
I followed her gaze.
A tiny kid wobbling on his feet, trying to take his first steps. His older sister stood a few feet away, arms open, cheering like this was the Olympics.
"You like kids?" I asked.
"You don’t?" she replied, not even looking at me.
We watched in silence.
"Okay, five steps," I whispered. "I bet he falls at five."
"No way. He’s making it to her," she said.
"Four," I counted.
"Shh!"
The kid wobbled. Paused. Wobbled again.
"Come on, come on—" she muttered under her breath.
"Five—"
The kid took one more step and plopped right into his sister’s arms.
"YES!" she whispered, almost clapping.
"That doesn’t count, she caught him!"
"That’s literally the point!"
"That’s cheating."
"You’re cheating."
We both stopped—
Then looked at each other.
Then looked away.
---
" Amber—"
"What?"
"Yo—"
"Bro, leave me alone. I’ll deal with it, don’t worry. I won’t rat you out."
Oh.
She thinks I’m doing all this to save myself.
"Look, woman," I said, a little more serious now, "I know I’m a jerk, but I’m actually trying to help here."
She stared at me.
Then suddenly—
She laughed.
"Yo… that was funny," she said, still laughing.
And Then ,
A small boy walked up to us.
"Here is a candy for you, pretty lady," he said, handing it to her.
"Aww, thank you," she smiled.
"What about me? I don’t get one?" I asked.
The kid looked at me.
"This lady is pretty. I like her. But this uncle looks scary" he said—and ran.
I froze.
Uncle?
Me?
I looked down at my outfit.
Black t-shirt. Black coat. Black pants. Black shoes.
…Okay, but still.
"I’m just 20," I muttered.
"Oo, Uncle Dan," she said, handing me half the candy. "Here. Even though I don’t want to."
"Fine."
I took it.
And somehow… it tasted better than it should have. 🍬
