(Public School 12, Earth)

  The bell shrieked—sharp and sudden. Zoe flinched. It wasn’t supposed to ring at this time.

  She put her pen down and looked around. The other students responded the same way—confused, unsure what had just happened.

  Behind her, Alta groaned and stretched like a cat who’d overslept through every class.

  “Finally! We get to go home early again. It’s been ages,” he said between yawns.

  Right. Ages.

  He hadn’t been conscious for more than twenty minutes total. And somehow, he was the first one to realize this meant they were going home early?

  Keyla, across from Zoe, slammed her books into her bag like they’d betrayed her. “Ugh, Really? After I worked all night long on that assignment? Now we go home early?.”

  Zoe bit her lip to hold back a smile as she put her history book into her backpack.

  “Alhamdulillah, I didn’t finish Mr. Bachtiar’s assignment anyway. Haha!” Alta's voice cut in with that smug little edge he always had when he didn't do something.

  Keyla glared at him as though she was ready to slap him. “Whatever…”

  She cut her eyes toward Zoe. “Hey, Zoe, wanna go to Pak Ahmad’s stall out front later? No point heading home yet, right?”

  Zoe checked her watch. 10:30. That felt… illegal. Too early. “Sure, but you gotta take me home after.”

  “I’ll take you home,” Alta said way too fast.

  Zoe didn’t even have to look up to know Keyla’s eye-roll could have spun her skull.

  “As if! Who even invited you?” Keyla snapped. “Just come with me, Zoe. Going home with him is sketchy—he’s probably got an agenda.”

  Zoe coughed into her sleeve to hide the laugh. Yeah, Keyla. I’ll just go with you. Alta’s kinda sus.

  Alta groaned, slinging his empty looking bag back. “Playing it cool, huh? Fine. Still going to the stall. Might call the guys. Card game sounds good.”

  The class emptied.

  Zoe walked out with Keyla. Alta followed, mumbling something about the newest series that he watched.

  (Pak Ahmad's food stall)

  Zoe elbowed past a swinging backpack, ducked under a tray of noodles, and dropped into the last seat before someone else could claim it. Her knee smacked the table leg—she didn't care. She got the spot near her friends. That was what mattered.

  The rusted steel roof above her clattered with every gust. The air reeked of fried oil and reheated broth. She didn’t breathe too deep.

  Her friends were already engaged in an UNO card game. She put her spicy and crunchy Basreng on the table, offering some to Keyla next to her.

  One round later, she got into the game as well. The rule was simple, the loser of the round would be punished. Their fingers must be tightly wrapped in rubber bands.

  Confident in her ability, she took her card in and played along.

  One round,

  Two rounds,

  Three rounds,

  She kept losing all three of them back to back.

  Across from Zoe, Alta tried not to smirk as he and zoe were the last remaining players in that round. He could've won a while ago, but he waited till the end to duel her.

  Keyla nudged her side, eyes sparkling with hope. “Okay. Wipe that smug look off his face.”

  Zoe didn’t answer. Three fingers wrapped in rubber bands. Her left thumb throbbing. Her pride? Already in the grave.

  But her cards looked good.

  This time she should be able to win, easily. She played her cards.

  A green skip.

  Then a blue skip.

  Then—smirk locked in—she slapped down a blue +2.

  Alta blinked. Then grinned like he’d just been fed.

  He dropped two +4's of his own.

  “UNO! UNO GAME!” Alta smacked his last card down like it was divine punishment and leapt up with both fists in the air. “Haha! Time for another rubber band!”

  Zoe stared at her hand. Her real hand. Then the cards. No way.

  “Forget it,” she grumbled, rubbing her sore fingers. “I’m done.”

  Alta tapped the deck, still laughing uncontrollably. “C’mon, one more? You’ll bounce back, right?”

  Zoe gave her a flat look. “Shut up Alta. You did that on purpose, didn't you?”

  Alta's laugh simmered down, gathering the deck. At least he didn’t push. Just shuffled slowly, whistling some nonsense tune.

  Zoe sighed and peeled the rubber bands off her fingers. Keyla slid the last one off for her, gentle, like Zoe’s fingers might crack if she wasn’t careful.

  Zoe bailed before Alta could gloat again, beelining for the stall.

  Buavita, Guava flavor. The only thing cold enough to fix the sting in her fingers and the bruised ego underneath.

  The vendor handed it over, dripping with condensation. She cracked the cap, took a long sip.

  To her left—Boys' voices. Loud ones.

  “Dude, look at this! Brandon Swanson case.” One of them wore a One Piece hoodie, red and loud, glasses slipping down his nose. He held up his phone like it was sacred. “Drove home after a party, called his dad when his car went into a ditch—then just vanished. Like, they never found him.”

  Zoe paused mid-sip. Her ears stayed locked in. She got weirdly invested in the discussion. Maybe it was due to their passion and enthusiasm.

  Another boy leaned closer to the screen. “Crazy.”

  The boys' voice jumped up and down like this was a horror podcast.

  Zoe blinked hard, pulling herself back just as Keyla nudged her arm.

  “Sorry—gotta take a call,” she said, already stepping away.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  Zoe grabbed the chocolate bars and juice boxes off the table. Sticky plastic against her palms. She took them back to the bench without saying much.

  The boys on her table stood. Alta tossed his empty bottle into the trash, and missed. He didn’t care.

  “Me and the boys are heading to the court,” he said, already half-turned. “Sorry about the game just now. We good right?”

  Zoe nodded, still upset at him. “We’re good.”

  Alta flashed a peace sign, jogged off with the others.

  Zoe waved back reluctantly.

  Keyla’s call dragged. Arms flying. Face sharp. That was her dad on the other end—had to be. Same way she always argued with him, like it was a game she was sick of playing but couldn’t stop.

  Zoe flipped her phone open. Closed it. Open. Refresh. Nothing.

  Sunlight burned through the rusted roofing. Her back stuck to the plastic seat.

  They fight all the time. She’ll cool off. I’ll grab snacks, queue something dumb, and everything goes back to normal.

  Keyla came back. Her face was pale. She put her glasses back on.

  She took a sip of her drink.

  And.

  "Zoe… I have to move."

  Zoe blinked. “Huhhh? Like… move houses?”

  Keyla didn’t answer.

  (Three days later, Gelombang Cinta Cafe)

  Keyla's words hadn’t stopped playing in Zoe's head.

  Zoe sat at the edge of the counter, thumb dragging through the chat. Line after line—jokes, rants, dumb in-jokes. Too familiar. Too far away now.

  She’s really leaving?

  Keyla’s recent texts tried too hard. Smiley faces and fake energy. Zoe didn’t touch the topic at all. She only sent memes and talked about everything else.

  But whatever they had—this friendship—it was slipping.

  She hovered her fingers on her phone, typing "Please don't leave Key. You're the..."

  Of course she wasn't about to send it. With a sigh, she deleted the message.

  “Heh, must be nice playing on your phone during work.” Zoe jolted.

  One of her coworker, Intan, breezed past with two trays stacked like Tetris. “Hurry up and help out, a lot of people are waiting for their orders.”

  “Hehe, sorry, Kak Intan.” She almost forgot the rule not to use one's phone during shift. She shot up and headed for the tables.

  She helped her tables and others where the servers had too much on their plate. Until, a shift in energy snapped her out of it.

  That bald head, there was no mistake. Crap, it's that annoying food reviewer.

  Two guys flanked him with their phones recording him as he entered the Cafe.

  With no senior staff around, Zoe had no choice but to greet him herself. She took a breath, straightened up, and did her best to sound professional.

  “Welcome,” smooth. Smile locked, words clean.

  The bald man took a seat and ordered everything normally.

  Zoe slipped into the kitchen, voice low. “Code Bald. Season everything. Make it pretty. Big portions.”

  The team moved like it was war. Dishes came out fast. Neat. Hot. He took bites, nodded. Things looked okay.

  Until—

  He noticed it.

  Zoe wasn’t in uniform. Unlike the other servers, she wore a plain shirt and jeans. He raised an eyebrow and made a show of it on camera, complaining like it was some unforgivable sin.

  Zoe silenced, caught off guard. Fuck you, baldie… my uniform’s in the laundry. I’m a student, okay? I have assignments, and I was nearly late this morning!

  She swallowed those words. Before she could come up with a proper response, her phone rang—loudly. Nooooo... why now?!

  Panicked, she fumbled to silence it without even checking who was calling.

  The food reviewer, already in performance mode, took this as fuel. He escalated the situation, pointing to the phone incident like it confirmed his narrative. His voice rose just enough to start turning heads, and soon, other customers were glancing over, distracted by the drama.

  Just as Zoe felt like melting into the floor, Intan stepped in like a boss.

  She apologized calmly and offered compensation. He, smug as ever, agreed—but only if all his food was comped. Intan hesitated for a moment, clearly weighing the cost… then nodded.

  He left with free food and more content for his followers. And Zoe?

  She just wanted to disappear into the dish rack.

  (On the way home)

  Intan had offered to drive her home, and now they sat in silence as the sleek BMW M4 cruised through the city streets.

  She sat stiff in the passenger seat. One hand curled around the seatbelt, the other on her lap, thumb pressed hard into the fabric of her jeans.

  No music played. Just engine and road.

  Tear tracks clung to her cheeks. She didn’t bother wiping them. Let them dry.

  Her manager hadn’t even bothered to hear her side—He just saw the viral clip and snapped. The uniform thing had never been a real issue… until today.

  Now it was everything.

  He threatened to fire her if it ever happened again.

  Intan tried to lighten the mood, cracking a few jokes and reassuring her that that bald reviewer was always a drama magnet.

  It helped. A little.

  Zoe leaned her head against the window.

  Cold.

  Her breath left a cloud. She didn’t wipe that.

  She pulled out her phone for the first time since the incident. Her inbox was flooded with texts from Alta. Meme after meme, completely unnecessary. Yet, she laughed, despite everything.

  “What’s so funny?” Intan glanced over, trying her best to engage with her upset junior.

  Zoe angled her screen slightly. “It’s Alta. He keeps sending me memes. What a weirdo.”

  “Oh, he might be into you.”

  “No way. He has too many 'girl friends' you know? He would flirt with a vending machine if it had boobs.”

  “Yeah? that boy with beat-up Honda?” Intan smirked. “Gotta hand it to him. Confidence really is a cheat code.”

  Zoe laughed with her. Still, she wasn’t about to roast Alta’s ride—after all, he was the one who gave her lifts when Keyla wasn’t around.

  The car slowed at a red light. Intan drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. “So,” she asked, “what’s the plan after high school? College or full-time work?”

  Zoe exhaled, looked out the window again. A noodle cart passed, steam rising off the pot.

  “I don’t know yet, Kak. Even if I wanted to go to college, I’d have to retake the entrance tests. My grades suck. It’s hard to get a scholarship when you’re not poor enough or smart enough.”

  “Haha, true though. It’s tough when your life story isn’t tragic enough to be inspiring.” Intan shot her a grin. “But for now, just focus on school. We’ll figure it out later.”

  She swallowed. “Thanks, Kak. You’ve been really good to me.”

  “Oh, stop it. You sound like you’re giving a farewell speech.”

  They pulled into her neighborhood. The chipped green gate of her apartment still hadn’t been painted over.

  She unbuckled her seatbelt but didn’t open the door yet. “Wanna come in for a bit?” Zoe offered.

  “I’d better not. The others are waiting.” Intan pulled out a cigarette and slipped it between her lips, "Now, get out."

  Zoe nodded and exited quickly. “Right.”

  “Oh—and no shifts for me tomorrow. I’ll drive you to school.” She lit the cigarette and took a drag.

  “No, it’s fine, Kak. I can grab a ride.”

  “Don’t be silly. See you in the morning.”

  The car rolled away before Zoe could argue again. She stood in the street, arms wrapped around herself even though the air wasn’t cold. Why does someone with a car this nice end up working at a café anyway?

  The tail lights faded. Only then did she pull out her keys.

  Zoe collapsed into her chair and unlocked her phone. One last scroll before math homework.

  At the top of her notifications—a missed call. Rejected earlier without thinking.

  Aunty. One missed call, several messages.

  "Sorry to bother, Zoe. How's my favorite girl doing? We just got to Lombok, and it’s gorgeous here. You should come next time—maybe after you graduate."

  She typed out a reply, “Sorry Aunty, I was window shopping with my friends and rejected the call by mistake. luv u.”

  Yeah. That covered it. She’d call tomorrow.

  No point telling her the allowance barely covered rent, let alone school stuff. Side jobs were the only reason she wasn’t drowning.

  She closed the chat and opened her math book. The desk lamp threw light across old receipts and tangled earphones.

  Statistics.

  The numbers blurred together. She tapped her pen against the page.

  Once.

  Twice.

  Three times.

  Reread the same question again. Still made no sense. She exhaled through her nose, dropped the pen.

  Swiped back to her browser and typed in “frequency distribution tutorial.”

  A notification popped up. A new let’s play video of the new anticipated game Elden Ring from her favorite YouTuber. The thumbnail alone had her smirking. Five minutes. Just five minutes.

  She propped the phone against her phone charger, leaned in, eyes glued.

  Seconds slipped into minutes.

  Her breathing slowed. Muscles unclenched.

  Her chin slipped.

  ...

  Then—

  Her head jerked up. I fell asleep? Fuck, my math homework!

  The screen was still playing, casting faint light in the darkened room. She wiped her face, realizing a few strands of her blonde hair had slipped into her mouth.

  Then—A glow. Above her.

  Bright.

  Growing.

  Expanding.

  Zoe’s breath hitched. She tried to move, but her body wouldn’t budge. What the hell is that?! Aaaaaaaa!

  The room exploded in white. And Zoe—

  Was gone.

  —