Head in the clouds

When Zoan flopped onto her bed, a realization hit her like a slap to the forehead—literally.

"Fuck," she muttered, smacking her own head. The arts club still didn't have a permanent teacher leading it.

The next morning, Zoan woke up early, groaning at the memory of her late-night revelation. She quickly fired off a text to Jovi about the issue before biking to school. They agreed to meet an hour earlier than usual.

By the time Zoan arrived, the club room was empty, save for Jovi, who was already there, pacing nervously.

"Gosh, I knew I forgot something!" Jovi exclaimed, punching her palm as Zoan sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"It's not your fault," Zoan said, trying to keep her tone calm. "With the club room getting trashed and tests piling up, we've been busy. When's the deadline?"

Jovi fumbled with her laptop, typing in her password with jittery fingers. She opened her email, her eyes scanning the screen frantically—until they widened. A gasp escaped her lips.

"Today. Before school ends." Her voice cracked. "I'm so sorry!" She buried her face in her hands, groaning.

"Hey, what are you apologizing for? Didn't we already have a teacher lined up?" Zoan asked, placing a steadying hand on Jovi's shoulder. "You told me she agreed to lead the club, but she just got sick, right?"

Jovi looked up at her, pouting. "She quit the job."

"What?" Zoan blinked, leaning closer. "When did you find this out?"

Jovi winced, twirling a strand of her hair. "A… few days ago…"

"A few days ago?" Zoan echoed, her voice rising. "You're telling me you knew and didn't tell anyone? Jovi, we're at risk of losing the club you worked so hard to start!" She pressed her palm to her face, resisting the urge to lie flat on the ground in despair.

"I know, I know!" Jovi stammered, giggling nervously. "I'm sorry!"

—

By mid-morning, Zoan found herself standing in front of Atiro's desk, feeling uncharacteristically self-conscious.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Atiro," Zoan began, her voice faltering. "It's just—we don't have a lead teacher for the arts club. And I was hoping…" She hesitated, fiddling with the hem of her sleeve. "...if you'd consider becoming our permanent lead teacher?"

Atiro froze mid-click of her pen, looking startled. "Oh! Well, um…" She rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly. "I mean, it's fine by me, but I'm not exactly great at art, you know." Her face reddened as she remembered a time she'd tried to draw an apple, only for it to resemble something far less flattering.

"That's fine!" Jovi suddenly exclaimed, slamming her hands on Atiro's desk in excitement. Both Zoan and Atiro turned to stare at her, startled.

"Ah, sorry," Jovi mumbled, stepping back with an embarrassed grin.

Zoan cleared her throat, regaining Atiro's attention. "Are you sure, though? I mean, being a homeroom teacher must already be exhausting, and now we'd be adding club activities to your workload…"

Atiro waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, no, no. Being a homeroom teacher is probably the easiest job here! All I do is help other teachers with their files. Honestly, this feels like a breath of fresh air!" She smiled warmly. "Now, hand me the form. I'll sign it and take it to the office."

Zoan quickly pulled the form from her bag, handing it over. Atiro clicked her pen open again and scribbled her name at the bottom, then passed it back with a triumphant grin.

"I'm glad to be part of your team!" she said cheerfully. "Let's make this school year one to remember!"

Her enthusiasm was slightly too much for 6 a.m., but Zoan managed a polite nod while Jovi clapped along with Atiro, both of them practically glowing with excitement.

"Alright, off you two go!" Atiro said, grabbing her purse. "I've got work to do—and I'm meeting my sister later, so I won't be here after school. Good luck with the club!"

"Thank you!" Zoan and Jovi said in unison, waving as they left the room.

Walking down the hallway, Jovi let out a sigh of relief. "Ms. Atiro is so nice. I wish our homeroom teacher was more like her."

"How so?" Zoan asked, glancing over.

Jovi winced, rubbing the back of her neck. "Our teacher's just… really strict. Like, hate-your-guts strict. And I swear, she thinks we're the worst just because we're Class 3."

"Blatant hierarchy, huh?" Zoan muttered, shaking her head.

Jovi shrugged. "It's always been like that. This school's super competitive, but it's also a ticket to a good college and a stable career. So… you put up with it."

They reached the fourth floor, and Zoan stopped abruptly. Jovi tilted her head, confused.

"Let's get the form to the dean's office quickly and make this official," Zoan said, flashing a small smile.

Jovi's face lit up. "You're right! Let's go!" She clutched the form tightly, practically skipping as they descended the stairs.

"We should probably keep this from Jiho and Ving," Jovi muttered as they reached the fourth floor, their footsteps echoing softly as they continued descending the stairs.

As they walked, Zoan glanced at her. "Why didn't you want Jiho and Ving to know about the teacher situation?"

Jovi's face flushed. "Because I don't want them to know how stupid I was," she admitted, sighing.

"You're not stupid, Jovi. You've been handling a lot," Zoan said gently.

"Yeah, but I forgot important stuff, Zoan. That's the problem." Jovi shook her head, gripping the form harder. "If it weren't for you remembering, the club would've been shut down."

Zoan chuckled softly. "Relax. Look on the bright side—we've got the form, and it's signed by a teacher who's actually excited to help us."

Jovi nodded weakly, a small, determined smile forming on her lips. "You're right."

Zoan gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Why don't you take the form to the dean? I need to stop by the restroom real quick. I rushed here and… uh…" She trailed off, unsure how to explain that her wig felt loose.

Jovi waved her off, giggling. "It's fine—I'll go ahead!" She skipped off down the hall, leaving Zoan behind.

The restroom was empty, giving Zoan the privacy she needed. She plucked the wig off, adjusted the pins, and smoothed it back into place. After a moment of fussing, she washed her hands at the sink, only to find the tissue dispenser empty.

"Seriously?" she muttered, shaking her hands dry with an annoyed sigh.

That's when she heard it—a soft sniffle, barely audible over the hum of the fluorescent lights. Zoan froze, her eyes darting toward the stalls. She crouched slightly, peeking under the doors, and spotted a pair of shoes in one of the stalls.

Someone was in there.

Her first instinct was to leave quietly. Whoever it was, it wasn't her business. Another sniffle echoed, tugging at her curiosity—but Zoan bit her lip and forced herself to walk away, deciding not to intrude. Some things were better left alone.