The assembly hall felt different that morning.
Maybe it was the spring sunlight pouring through the tall windows, washing everything in gold. Maybe it was the absence of Kevin's presence—that lingering tension that had hung over Goldridge like smog for months. Or maybe it was simpler than that: the students knew something was coming.
Something final.
Headmaster Harrington stood at the podium, his usual stern expression softened by what might have been nostalgia. Behind him, the faculty sat in a neat row, and for once, even they seemed less rigid.
"Good morning," Harrington began, his voice carrying across the silent hall. "As you all know, this year has been... eventful."
A ripple of quiet laughter. Eventful was putting it mildly.
"But despite the challenges, you—our final year students—have persevered. You've completed your SATs. You've represented Goldridge across multiple branches. And now, it's time to prepare for the moment that will define your time here."
He paused, letting the weight settle.
"Your graduation ceremony will take place on July 18th, here at the UK branch."
The hall erupted—not in chaos, but in a wave of excited murmurs, gasps, and the rustling of students turning to whisper to their neighbors. July 18th. Less than two months away.
Mabelle felt her chest tighten. Two months. That was all they had left.
Beside her, Mikey leaned over. "Yo, that's actually soon."
"Too soon," Celeste muttered, though her expression was unreadable.
Zion sat a few seats down, arms crossed, face calm. But Mabelle caught the slight tension in his jaw. He felt it too.
Harrington raised his hand for silence. "This year, we're doing something unprecedented. All final year students from every branch—UK, US, Sweden, Dubai, Tokyo—will graduate together, here in London. This ceremony will be a testament to the unity and excellence Goldridge Academy represents worldwide."
More whispers. The idea of all branches converging was both thrilling and terrifying.
"To ensure this ceremony reflects the caliber of our students," Harrington continued, "we're forming a Graduation Planning Committee. This committee will handle every aspect—venue, themes, speeches, performances, logistics. And their proposals must be approved by both the committee majority and the entire final year class via vote."
Mabelle straightened. A committee. With real power.
"We're looking for leaders," Harrington said, his eyes scanning the crowd. "Students who can coordinate, collaborate, and execute under pressure. If you're interested, submit your application by the end of the week. We'll announce selections on Monday."
The assembly ended with a buzz of energy that hadn't existed in months.
Later That Day – The Courtyard
The friend group gathered under their usual tree, the same spot where they'd spent countless lunches dissecting drama, celebrating victories, and surviving chaos.
"So," Mikey said, stretching his legs out on the grass. "Who's applying for the committee?"
Celeste raised her hand immediately. "Me. I'm not letting some random people plan the most important day of our lives."
"Same," Mabelle added. "If it's going to be chaotic, I'd rather be in the room where it happens."
Mikey grinned. "Hamilton reference? Really?"
Mabelle shrugged, unapologetic.
Isla sat quietly, picking at the grass. "I don't know if I should apply. After everything with Lucian, I just... I don't know if I have it in me."
Celeste reached over, squeezing her hand. "You're stronger than you think. And honestly? Staying busy might help."
Isla hesitated, then nodded. "Okay. Maybe."
"What about you, Z?" Mikey asked, turning to Zion.
Zion had been silent, staring out across the courtyard. "I don't know. Feels like I've done enough damage for one year."
"That's exactly why you should do it," Mabelle said firmly. "Show people you're more than what happened with Kevin. Show them you can build something, not just tear it down."
Zion looked at her, and for the first time in days, something like warmth flickered in his eyes. "You really think I should?"
"I know you should," Mabelle said.
He nodded slowly. "Alright. I'll apply."
The Following Monday – Committee Announcements
The list was posted outside the main office at 8 a.m., and by 8:05, a crowd had formed.
Goldridge Academy Final Year Graduation Planning Committee:
UK Branch:
Mabelle Carter Zion Vale Celeste Duval Isla Monroe
US Branch:
Amara Kingsley (returning from the Dubai trip, still sharp as ever) Dante Miller (the basketball rival who'd clashed with Zion before)
Sweden Branch:
Elias Norén (the disciplined captain who'd gone head-to-head with Mikey in soccer) Astrid Bergman (a new name—tall, blonde, with an intimidating presence and a reputation for flawless event coordination)
Dubai Branch:
Tariq Al-Farsi (quiet, strategic, known for his business acumen and family connections)
Tokyo Branch:
Yuki Tanaka (soft-spoken but brilliant, with an eye for aesthetics and detail)
Ten people. Five branches. One ceremony.
Mabelle read the list twice, her stomach flipping. This wasn't just a committee—it was a powder keg of egos, rivalries, and unresolved tension.
"Well," Celeste said, appearing beside her. "This should be fun."
"Fun isn't the word I'd use," Mabelle muttered.
Across the courtyard, Zion stood with his hands in his pockets, staring at the list. Amara and Dante. Of course. The universe had a sense of humor.
Isla joined them, her expression nervous but determined. "I made it."
"You did," Mabelle said, pulling her into a side hug. "And you're going to be amazing."
First Committee Meeting – Wednesday Afternoon
The meeting room was sleek and modern, all glass walls and polished wood. A long table stretched down the center, ten chairs arranged precisely.
Mabelle arrived early, settling into a seat near the middle. Zion came next, taking the chair beside her. They exchanged a brief look—no words, just acknowledgment.
Celeste sat across from them, already pulling out a notebook. Isla slipped in quietly, choosing the seat next to Celeste.
Then came the others.
Amara walked in like she owned the place, her heels clicking against the floor. She nodded at Mabelle and Celeste but ignored Zion entirely. Dante followed, his broad frame filling the doorway. He grinned at Zion, all teeth. "Vale. Didn't think you'd show."
"Wouldn't miss it," Zion replied coolly.
Elias entered with his usual calm authority, followed by Astrid, who surveyed the room with sharp, assessing eyes. Tariq was next, quiet and composed, his presence understated but undeniable. Yuki came last, carrying a tablet and a cup of tea, bowing slightly before taking her seat.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Then Astrid cleared her throat. "Shall we begin?"
Her accent was crisp, her tone commanding. She didn't wait for agreement. "We have seven weeks to plan a graduation ceremony for over three hundred students from five branches. This is not a small task. We need structure, roles, and most importantly—agreement."
"Agreement on what?" Dante asked, leaning back in his chair.
"Everything," Astrid said. "Venue, theme, budget, speeches, performances. Every proposal must pass through this committee first. Majority vote. Then, it goes to the full final year class for approval by show of hands."
"So we can't just decide things ourselves?" Amara asked, clearly annoyed.
"No," Astrid said firmly. "Goldridge is about unity. If we're planning this together, we do it together."
Mabelle found herself liking Astrid already.
"Let's start with roles," Elias suggested. "Who's handling what?"
The room fell into discussion.
Final Assignments:
Venue & Logistics: Tariq and Elias Theme & Decorations: Yuki and Isla Performances & Entertainment: Dante and Amara Speeches & Program: Mabelle and Celeste Budget & Sponsorships: Zion and Astrid
"Wait," Dante said, grinning at Zion. "You and the Ice Queen are handling money? This should be good."
Astrid's expression didn't change. "I don't do drama, Mr. Miller. I do results. If you can't keep up, stay out of my way."
Dante's grin faltered slightly.
Zion smirked. "Looking forward to working with you, Astrid."
She nodded once, already typing notes on her tablet.
After the Meeting – The Conversation
Mabelle caught Zion in the hallway as the others filed out.
"Hey," she said softly. "Can we talk?"
Zion hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah. Let's walk."
They ended up at the garden behind the library, the same place they'd spent so many quiet moments before everything fell apart.
Mabelle sat on the stone bench, and Zion joined her, leaving just enough space between them to feel the distance.
"I'm sorry," Mabelle said suddenly.
Zion looked at her, surprised. "For what?"
"For making you feel like I wasn't on your side," she said, her voice steady but soft. "I was trying to protect you—from yourself, from becoming someone you'd regret. But I should've supported you more. I should've trusted that you knew what you were doing."
Zion exhaled slowly. "I didn't know what I was doing, Mabelle. I was angry and reckless, and I dragged you into it."
"You didn't drag me," she said firmly. "I chose to stay. Even when it was hard. Even when I didn't agree with your methods. Because I care about you. And I'm not going anywhere."
Zion's walls cracked, just slightly. "I thought I lost you."
"You didn't," Mabelle said, reaching for his hand. "But we have to be honest with each other. No more secrets. No more shutting each other out."
Zion looked down at their intertwined fingers. "I don't want to lose you. Not when everything else is ending."
"You won't," Mabelle promised. "We've got two months left here. Let's make them count."
Zion pulled her closer, resting his forehead against hers. "I love you, you know that?"
Mabelle smiled, her heart full. "I know. I love you too."
They sat there for a long time, the world moving around them, but for once, everything felt still. Steady. Right.
And when they finally stood to leave, walking hand in hand back toward the main campus, Mabelle knew one thing for certain:
Whatever came next—graduation, goodbyes, the future—they'd face it together.