"Hi?" Martin repeated, the word a placeholder for his confusion. The cold weight of the sodas in his hands felt suddenly trivial.
"You're Martin Cologne," the girl stated, her voice flat.
"Cologna," he corrected, a reflex. "Do I know you?"
"Whatever." She waved a hand, dismissing his name and his question. "Consider this a warning. Our school isn't big enough for both of us. You have a choice. Leave voluntarily this term, or…" She let the sentence hang, her cold eyes finishing the threat.
Martin blinked. "Oh. We go to the same school." He forced a thin, humorless smile. "Great."
Across the lobby, a different conversation was unfolding. Andella had Jennifer and Caleb cornered with maternal concern.
"Jennifer! Caleb! It's been so long," Andella said, her smile warm. "How have you both been?"
"We're good, Miss Andella," Jennifer replied, her voice calm though her eyes kept flicking toward Martin. "Just… you know. School."
Caleb said nothing. He stood with his arms crossed, his signature frown etched so deeply it looked permanent, his gaze locked somewhere in the middle distance.
Andella's smile softened with concern. "Caleb? Are you alright, dear?"
"No," Caleb said, the word a blunt stone dropped into the conversation. "Not really."
"Why? What's wrong?"
Caleb's dark eyes finally focused, shifting from Andella to the scene of his friend being cornered. "It's about your son and my sis—"
Jennifer's hand shot out, clamping over his mouth. "He's fine!" she chirped, her voice strained. "Just… tired! Long day!"
Andella's gaze followed theirs, landing on Martin and the trio of girls. Her maternal smile faded. "That doesn't look like a friendly chat," she murmured.
Back at the concession stand, the girl—Ava—leaned in, her voice dropping to a venomous whisper. "You have one week to decide. That's me being kind. Leave the school, or face the consequences."
"What consequences?"
The new voice, sharp and clear, made Ava flinch. Jennifer and Caleb had arrived, flanking Martin. Jennifer stood with her hands on her hips, her earlier nervousness replaced by a protective glare.
Ava recovered quickly, her composure icy. "He knows what I'm talking about."
Caleb turned his dead-eyed stare from Ava to Martin. "She giving you trouble?" he asked, his tone devoid of inflection. "Just say the word. I'll show her why they held me back in primary school. Violent tendencies."
Jennifer leaned toward him. "I thought you were held back because you failed" she whispered.
"Shut up, Jennifer," Caleb muttered without looking at her.
One of Ava's friends tugged at her sleeve, her voice nervous. "Let's go, Ava. You told him."
Ava took a step back, her eyes never leaving Martin's. "One week," she repeated, the words a final, chilling promise. Then she turned, and with her friends in tow, melted back into the thinning lobby crowd.
Caleb watched them go before turning to Martin. "What was that?"
Martin shrugged, trying to inject nonchalance into his voice. "Nothing. Just some brat trying to play bully. Don't worry about it. I can handle a girl."
"Can you?" Jennifer asked, her eyebrow arched. "Because in Primary Two, you stayed home for two days after our class goldfish died. We'd had it for three hours."
"That was a tragedy!" Martin protested, his cheeks flushing. "He had… potential!"
"He was floating upside down in a plastic bag."
"That was a long time ago," Martin insisted, fidgeting with the soda bottles. "I've changed."
"I hope so," Jennifer said, though her tone was more worried than skeptical.
"Look, the only things that'll keep me from school now are a terminal illness, actual death, or the release of First Thunder Gate 2," Martin declared.
"A video game is more important than school?" Jennifer gaped.
"Obviously."
"MARTIN!"
Andella's voice cut through the lobby like a whip. Heads turned. Martin winced. "Oh, damn."
"Where in the world are my drinks?!" she called, striding toward them.
"Coming!" Martin gritted out through a forced smile. He rushed over, thrusting sodas into Jennifer and Caleb's hands before finally presenting one to his mother with a flourish.
"What were you doing?" Andella asked, taking the bottle. "They're about to announce the winners."
"Sorry," he mumbled.
The four of them moved back toward the auditorium doors. As Martin walked, a wave of lightheadedness washed over him. He shook his head, blinking hard. Just need to eat, he told himself.
He took another few steps. The dizziness returned, stronger this time. The murmur of the lobby, the distant clatter from the concession stand, it all began to sound warped and muffled, as if he were underwater. Then, the pain. It wasn't the sharp twinge from before. This was a deep, crushing pressure in the center of his chest, a fist of iron squeezing the air from his lungs.
A gasp escaped him, then a choked sound. He stumbled, clutching his chest.
"Martin?" Andella's voice, laced with alarm, sounded far away.
"Marty?" That was Jennifer, closer.
The pain intensified, white-hot and terrifying. A raw, involuntary scream tore from his throat. He saw their faces—Andella's wide-eyed panic, Jennifer's shock, Caleb's frozen scowl—swimming in his blurring vision. They were calling his name, but their voices were echoes in a deep tunnel.
His legs gave way. The world tilted violently. He felt strong arms—Jennifer's—catch him as he fell, slowing his collapse to the hard floor. The sound faded completely, replaced by a roaring silence. The last thing he was aware of was a terrifying, fluttering struggle in his chest—a frantic, failing drumbeat—that stuttered, weakened, and then simply… stopped.