A “maybe” friend?

Zoan was good at sneaking; she could probably crawl to the back of the classroom and up to her seat if only she weren't wearing a skirt. 

Instead, she tiptoed at the back, her teacher busy writing on the board as she slowly sat beside Jiho, gritting her teeth as she tried her best to be as quiet as possible.

"Ms. Porifera, you're late," the teacher said, her back still turned. Zoan groaned, wincing as everyone turned to her, their eyes burning into her.

Zoan stood up, patting her skirt down and smiling nervously. "I—I'll try not to do it again, miss," she said as the teacher turned back to her, nodding. "It's alright; I'll let this pass, but hopefully you won't be doing this anymore. Golden High is not for students who take things as a joke."

Zoan sat down, feeling defeated. Jiho turned to her. "Why are you late?" she asked. Zoan shook her head. "Woke up late, I guess. My alarm didn't wake me," she grumbled, pulling out her notebook.

The class today, by the looks of it, was—cooking? Was Tuesday the specialized class? "It's a specialized class today," Jiho whispered, as if she knew that was what Zoan was thinking.

Or maybe she knew because she was peering over Zoan's notebook. "Ah… cooking?" Zoan murmured—she was pretty sure she saw this on her schedule, but she kind of assumed it was a class you had to choose, and she hadn't picked this one.

Unless—

"It's required; all girls must learn how to cook, sing, sew, do art, and more," Jiho says as Zoan stifles the urge to groan.

What even is this? Why not teach these skills to boys as well? Isn't this supposed to be general education? Why is this called a specialized class, and why are only women getting this?

"You don't look too happy. I kind of thought you would like art class… because you look like someone who watches anime—a lot," Jiho murmurs, focusing on her notebook and jotting down important notes from the board.

Zoan clicks her tongue, unsure how to respond. Sure, she watches a lot of genres, not just anime. What does Jiho even mean by looking like someone who watches a lot of anime?

A weeb? Is that what Jiho is talking about?

Aren't those people considered weird?

What the hell?! Zoan is not weird!

"Are you calling me a weeb?" Zoan blurts out later at lunch, both of them just finishing their cooking and sewing classes. Jiho had asked Zoan to eat with her outside on the gazebos, looking worried, though Zoan wasn't sure why—unless Jiho just wanted fresh air, which she could understand.

"A what?" Jiho asks, caught off guard. She's in the middle of answering her assignment, one hand on a pen and the other holding a spoon. Zoan had already finished her assignment before their sewing class ended; the moment it was given at the start of the class, she sped through it like a woman on a mission.

"The answer is A," Zoan says offhandedly as Jiho looks back down at her paper, letting out a surprised noise. She quickly erases her answer, switching it from B to A.

"Thanks—and where did that question come from?" Jiho stutters, surprised, as Zoan lets out an 'Augh' and lowers her head, stuffing bread into her mouth. "Earlier, you said I look like someone who watches anime… daily," Zoan glares as Jiho wilts.

"It's not a bad thing!" Jiho argues, her face red as Zoan chuckles. "Relax, I was just asking—and no, I don't watch anime. In fact, I don't have time to watch anything."

Jiho pauses, biting her lip—she looks guilty for judging Zoan, her hand holding her spoon loosely. "You're going to drop your spoon," Zoan points out, and Jiho lets out a yelp, nodding as she takes another bite.

"Right—it was my mistake for judging you based on appearance… and the braids look nice on you," Jiho flushes as Zoan absentmindedly twirls the braid with her finger.

"Really? Then I should keep this?" Zoan asks, not noticing Jiho wince while forcing a smile. "I—I suppose?" Jiho murmurs.

Zoan's eyes trail toward a strange black spot on Jiho's hand, slightly covered by the sleeve of her blazer. Without thinking, she grabs Jiho's hand and stares at it.

"Is this a bruise or something?" Zoan asks as Jiho lets out a surprised noise, looking at the spot where Zoan is looking.

Her eyes widen, and she pulls her hand away, tugging her sleeve to cover it. "It's nothing! It must have been ink from when I was writing earlier," Jiho stammers, swallowing as Zoan turns to her, curious.

"Ah—but it doesn't look like ink, does it? It looks like—ehm… some kind of bruise, I suppose." Zoan tapped her chin in thought, oblivious to the cold sweat on Jiho's face or how she paled at the sight of a group of girls approaching.

"Hi, Jiji! I couldn't see you earlier in your classroom! Turns out you're just here!" a girl exclaimed, her voice carrying a strange lilt. Zoan turned her head. The girl was at least as tall as Zoan, maybe inches shorter now that she is closer to Zoan's vision, with hair dyed gray—or was it silver? It was hard to tell.

Her hair was tied in a lazy ponytail, with strands falling over her face. Behind her were two more girls: one blonde, her face caked in so much makeup that Zoan thought she could probably swim in it and not resurface.

 The other girl had hair that looked like a unicorn had thrown up on it and appeared to be someone who wrestled for fun—definitely beefy.

Zoan raised an eyebrow as the silver-haired girl slung an arm around Jiho. She must be Jiho's close friend, Zoan thought, not giving it much further consideration as the girl poked Jiho's cheeks playfully. "Ahhh, what are you doing out here? I thought we agreed to meet in your classroom?" the silver-haired girl asked with a teasing tone.

Jiho only managed a nervous laugh, her eyes darting to Zoan, who remained as confused as ever. The silver-haired girl's gaze shifted to Zoan, a broad grin spreading across her face as she scanned her like a piece of meat.

Zoan narrowed her eyes—she didn't like that one bit. Perhaps Jiho had some questionable friends after all, even if she seemed kind.

Guess it wasn't avoidable, Zoan thought.

"You're the new girl, right? The one who got the position in class 1? Ahhh, how amazing! You must be really smart, like my girl Jiji here," she giggles, shaking Jiho lightly by the shoulder.

Jiho laughs nervously, her eyes darting back and forth between Zoan and somewhere else, as if unsure where to look—she appears troubled and embarrassed.

"I guess you could say that," Zoan replies, shrugging halfheartedly. The silver-haired girl grins—like a predator spotting new prey—as she slides over to Zoan, throwing her arm around her shoulders.

"We should be friends then! I came from class 4; it's not every day I have friends from class 1," she smirks, while Zoan gives her a puzzled look.

Turning back to Jiho, Zoan notices the rainbow-haired girl and the blonde teasing her, flicking her hair and blowing air into her eyes, causing Jiho to blink wildly and lower her head in shame. Her hands are clenched so tightly they're turning white, and they're shaking.

Zoan narrows her eyes, pulling away from the silver-haired girl, her arms falling to her sides. "No, thank you. I don't associate with idiots," Zoan states, standing up and grabbing Jiho's arm.

"Come on, I hate it here. It's getting too hot, and I can't stand the heat," Zoan scoffs. Jiho looks up, surprised, but nods hastily, standing up to follow after Zoan, who has already started to walk away.

—

They walked in silence back to their room. "Sorry, my friends… they must have made you uncomfortable," Jiho murmured, her head lowered as Zoan stuffed her hands into the pockets of her skirt.

So they are her friends? Zoan thought. It certainly doesn't look like it; it almost seemed like they were stepping over her, as if she were some kind of stepping stone.

"It's fine. Maybe next time don't hang out with those kinds of people, hm?" Zoan tilted her head as she slid the door open to their room, letting Jiho enter first before following.

Not many students were in the room yet; it looked like everyone preferred eating outside rather than inside the room. Zoan noted this as she sat beside Jiho, who had fallen quiet since Zoan had mentioned her so-called friends.

"Who was that anyway? I thought it wasn't allowed to have your hair dyed," Zoan asked. Jiho bit her lip. "Most students from class 4 tend to be… um, lawbreakers. They don't follow the school rules much," she said, twirling her hair nervously as Zoan nodded in understanding.

Looks like even Golden High has those kinds of students—Zoan had expected a lot, she supposed. She kind of expected everything to be perfect. Oh well, not everything can be perfect.

"You shouldn't have said that, though… I—I…" Jiho stammered, her hands gesticulating as if she struggled to explain herself. "Say what? Say the truth? I mean, she kind of looks like an idiot, so I don't know about that," Zoan shrugged, scratching the back of her neck nonchalantly.

Jiho let out a frustrated sound. "Yes! But—you should have just let her talk. I don't want you to—" She mumbled the last few words, and Zoan couldn't catch them.

"Say what?" Zoan asked as Jiho's face darkened, her lips thinning into a line before she shook her head. "Nothing… How about you copy from my notes first since you weren't able to copy the first few from cooking?" Jiho suggested, bringing out her notebook, and Zoan's eyes lit up.

"Perfect! Thank you so much, Jiho! God, you are a lifesaver," Zoan says excitedly, a grin on her face as she pulls out her notebook. Jiho hands hers over, and Zoan gives her a small thank you again before starting to copy what she had missed.

"I guess studying is life for you too, huh? No wonder you're in class 1," Jiho giggles, now only seeing Zoan's smile, which is surprising considering it's just some measly notes she had missed earlier.

"In this generation, education is important—and I also made a promise to my father to take things seriously," Zoan murmurs, scribbling in her notebook.

It was easy to understand Jiho's notes. Her handwriting was beautiful—quite different from Zoan's almost chicken-scratch style. Zoan's writing was inconsistent; sometimes it was readable, and other times it looked like she had lost control of her wrist, turning into a scribble.

Jiho's handwriting was neat and even annotated. How cute.

"That's true… My mother wanted me to take my classes here at Golden High because they offer a good education," Jiho says. "I'm not really rich—so I'm kind of a working scholar. I have to work every day, even on school days."

Jiho rubs her neck nervously as Zoan turns to her, surprised. So Jiho was a working student?

It was then that Zoan noticed the tired look in her eyes and the slanted smile. "You should get more rest then," Zoan smiles at her, causing Jiho to flush. "I-I do! But thank you," she replies, looking away, embarrassed.

Zoan just grinned.