A Gamble

You ever had a close friend—like, your boy—and then one day, he's suddenly talking to some rando like they're besties and you're just standing there like, the fuck?

Yeah. That's my life right now.

Name's Kurt. That's right—I'm him. The guy standing on the sidelines watching this mess unfold like it's a drama I didn't audition for.

We were chillin' in the cafeteria, talking about how Josh is apparently getting tight with that sketchy crowd—you know, the ones with the permanent dead-eyes and too much free time. And yeah, sure, he beat one of those dudes up to the point of bleeding, but I swear that had to be staged. Like come on—Josh wouldn't hurt a fly. He's got soft-boy energy, even if he tries to act tough.

But then—boom.

One of them walks over. Short. Sharp eyes. Cold as hell. She's got that whole "don't talk to me unless you can solve a Rubik's cube blindfolded and don't ask if I can" vibe going on. Naturally, I was like, Okay... what the hell does she want?

Before I can even blink, Meljasher greets her like she's a long-lost cousin or something. Next thing I know, they're deep in conversation, heads close, all serious. Meljasher's nodding like she's dropping world secrets, and the rest of us? Ignored.

Whatever. I'm just sitting here, drinking my soda, acting like I'm not listening. But I am.

I just ain't gonna say nothin'.

Meljasher's POV

Gosh, somebody help me.

How the actual hell does this girl know I'm dating someone from class? I haven't even told Kurt yet, and he's practically the nosiest one in the group.

She leans forward, arms crossed, eyes like she's already ten steps ahead.

"So. Now that you know that I know about your secret," she says, slow and calm—way too calm. "You're gonna do something for me."

Then she adds, almost like an afterthought:

"And your friends too. Or else."

She doesn't even finish the sentence. Just let it hang there like a loaded gun on the table.

And you know what? I'm not even gonna test her. She's a senior. She probably has dirt on half the school.

So I force a smile, ignore the panic rising in my gut, and say,

"Sure. What do you need help with?"

"Karong hapon alas tres, magkita ta sa Tech Club. (This afternoon at 3 pm, meet me in the Tech Club.)"

Holy Shit. 

Holy Flying Disgusting Black Shit. 

SHE CAN SPEAK CEBUANO??

"Sure… Kabalo lagi ka mo-Bisaya? (How'd you learn to speak Bisaya)" I replied, leaning in, I bet she knows that I can speak it.

"I knew you could speak it. I'll answer all of your questions in the tech club. Okay?" Before she could stand up to leave, she stopped herself-- "Oh--and, make sure to bring Bernard. I need his coding in this one." With that, she walked off. 

"Yooo…" Kurt whispered under his breath, I nodded in return, still tryna process. 

Yooo indeed.

3rd Person POV

Jazzi stood behind Josh, arms crossed, dripping with paint in bold splashes of red, blue, and yellow—like a walking modern art piece with murder in her eyes.

In front of her, Josh was laughing—hard—at the footage playing on his phone: her and Blanche, mid-war, flinging paint at each other like it was a color-themed apocalypse.

And who "won"?

If by won you mean who got dragged to the principal's office—then yeah. Blanche.

"If by any chance—why are we in the gardens while Siam isn't here?" Iresh huffed, crossing his arms as he ran a hand through his perfectly gelled hair—messing it up without a second thought.

Fred sat quietly on one of the benches, typing away on the laptop Siam had handed him earlier. He didn't look up, not even when Josh plopped down beside him and leaned over curiously. With a small sigh, Fred tilted the screen, adjusting it just enough so Josh could see without needing to ask.

"No one's fucking answering me?" Iresh snapped, his voice sharp and impatient. A vein throbbed on his forehead like it was about to burst.

Meanwhile in the Tech Club

"You want me to… discover how to make a sandwich?"

Bernard blinked, adjusting his glasses as he stared at the girl like she'd just asked him to hack into the AI's system.

Which—technically—she had.

He sat on a worn swivel chair surrounded by metal desks cluttered with wires, broken gadgets, and labeled toolboxes. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed faintly, casting a bluish hue over the room. Old monitors flickered in sleep mode across the walls. In front of him sat an older laptop—its lid already up, cursor blinking on a blank terminal screen. Siam had handed it to him earlier, and he hadn't dared touch it until now.

"Do you think I'm some kind of genius?" he asked, half-joking, half-dreading the answer.

She nodded. Calm. Too calm. "Yes. While you work on that, Kurt and Meljasher will follow me. I'll give you a great reward, I promise."

It was tempting. Dangerous, even.

She already knew two of Meljasher's secrets. What if she knew him, too?

Bernard's eyes flicked toward the laptop in front of him again. The blinking cursor almost seemed like it was waiting... listening.

He hesitated for just a second. Then:

"Alright. Just… make sure I get that reward."

She turned to leave, nodding at Kurt and Meljasher to follow. As she stepped toward the door, she pointed casually at the old walkie-talkie sitting beside the laptop.

"You can contact me through that… thing." Her tone was dismissive, but her eyes flicked toward the corners of the ceiling—where hidden mics might be. She knew the AI was always listening.

Bernard straightened up, fingers hovering over the keyboard.