Chapter Text
The path that a body follows in space is called a trajectory. The displacement is the change in position from one point to another. Kinematics is basically that — at least, that’s what the heavy book says.
When the sky begins to blend shades of yellow and red, most students head home. You can even start using the chairs in front of you as a footrest.
Green didn’t really check, but it’s safe to assume that in about an hour, the librarian will — politely — shoo them out of their resting spot. And in this case, that resting spot is just a physics book.
They chose a really funny font for the book’s text. If you tilt your head at just the right angle, the letters start looking like wobbly drawings.
“Is this page interesting?” Green nearly jumped. Blue had their head tilted close to them.
“Wha- oh, this one?” The font wiggled in a silly dance. “Not much. Why?”
“You’ve been staring at it for the past ten minutes.”
“Oh.”
The sound of the chair scraping across the floor made Green grimace. They could catch a glimpse of the yellowed pages in the reflection of Blue’s glasses.
“So, whatcha reading?” Green tore their gaze away from the physics book, squinting.
“A novel.”
Green set the book down, open. “Cool, cool.”
They went back to watching the words and how they moved on the pages.
For a while, there was just the rustling of papers, along with Blue's soft hums.
“How about you?”
“Me? Oh, uh… physics. Kinematics.”
“Freshman year is challenging, isn’t it?”
“Ah… a little, yeah.” They gave a small chuckle.
There was a really beautiful drawing on the next page. It was robust, yet delicate. The lines knew exactly where to go, from the starting point to the end — a definite destination.
Green turned the page.
“Do you… do you find White intimidating?” Their voice almost got stuck inside.
“White?” Blue placed a bookmark on the page. “Are they your classmate as well?”
“Yeah.”
Blue took a deep breath. Green just shifted their feet on the chair.
“They’re- they’re my class representative, y’know?”
“Intimidating… well, not really.” The book made a light sound as it was placed on the table. “Don’t get me wrong, they’re very smart, but…”
The curves of the drawing fit together. Just slanted words wiggling, and Green’s grip growing tighter.
“Sometimes, that’s not enough to intimidate someone.”
They looked away from Blue. “Oh. I see.”
Green held their breath for a moment, their fingertips tapping lightly on the table. The scene paused for a while.
It seemed like the library had reached a steady state of traffic — people and books wise. Fewer people, more books. They felt the sun’s warmth gradually receding.
“You’re very smart, Blue.”
They nodded slowly, Blue's hands playing with the pages of the book. The tip of the hardcover made a light tap-tap sound.
Green tucked their legs under the chair in front of them.
“You’re very smart as well, Green.” Blue rested their gaze on the pages of the physics book. “Sadly, that’s not enough for us to fit in here.”
They turned the book back to the correct angle.
“That’s why I don’t view White as intimidating. They never had to fit in; they were born belonging.” Their glasses reflected the sunlight. “You, on the other hand… you have to shape yourself to earn a place here. I know what that feels like.”
Blue opened the book to the marked page, their fingers struggling to turn it. Green looked back at the drawing.
“That’s why I think you’re a lot more intimidating than White. In a good way, that is.”
The room was empty enough to echo. Just Green, Blue, a few books, and the librarian. They turned the page; no drawing, only words in that funny font. A soft chirping of crickets accompanied a few more turns of the page.
Eventually, the door creaked closed.
The path home was peaceful.
-
Boxes aren't always a bad thing. Sometimes, it's just easier to navigate that way. A pizza without a box just has to find its own — simple as that.
Green took their slice and made room in line. It had a single, small piece of pepperoni in the center, since the other one had already been popped into their mouth.
Today was the same old dilemma: tables and seats. The downside is that, this time, Cyan can’t just wave their metal bracelets at Green and plop them down in the middle of everyone. After all, they have other friends — and when Black says the sound of water running from the bathroom sinks makes for a great dining atmosphere, they mean it.
It’s funny how there hadn’t been a single new student since Green started at the school, yet the cafeteria had fewer and fewer seats available.
The spot where their little three-person gang usually sat had been overrun by volleyballs. Green was grateful no one had recruited them for one of the sports clubs instead — otherwise, they would have a big round bruise on their face for the next few weeks.
Good thing they were looking at the floor as they walked; the gradual sound of rubber bouncing came to a stop right in front of them. Green balanced their tray in one hand, but didn’t dare make a sudden move before grabbing the ball.
“Greenie!” The tray almost crashed to the ground.
Out of the corner of their eye, they could see someone jogging toward them. It took a moment, but there was no mistaking someone who could call their nickname so naturally.
Green almost choked from the slap on their back. “I knew someone would catch our ball, ha!”
“Red- hey. Is this, uh- is this your volleyball?”
“Yeah, we were kinda playing a three-pass-and-hit drill, and, let’s just say one of our new members is a bit of a butterfingers. Uh-oh!” Red didn’t seem to mind resting their arms around Green’s neck.
They gave an awkward chuckle. “Wowie, no, yeah- these are the worst!”
“D'ya like volleyball?”
Green almost choked. “Oh, me? Volleyball? Not… not really, no.”
“Huh. Just debates and pepperoni pizza for you, then. Not a single pineapple on ‘em?”
“Uhh…”
“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” They took the ball from their hand. “Relax, no biggie. I’ll beat Purps next time.”
“I bet you will, cap’n!”
Red gave a soft smirk, rolling the ball between their hands.
They always seemed to be leaning against an invisible wall, hands on their hips and their shoes untied.
“So, Green. Heard you’re having a hard time at the club, huh?”
The teenagers’ voices became louder. Green didn’t say a word.
“...What White said wasn’t very nice.” Red twisted their mouth.
“Oh, yeah. That.” They snorted lightly through their nose. “It’s- no biggie, right?”
By now, their pizza must be cold. Good thing they always eat half of it before they even sit down.
No biggie, then…
“Y’know…” The ball bounced quickly on the floor. “I could teach you a thing or two. Like, how to be assertive, how to improv… the basics.”
Green’s eyes lit up instantly. “Really?! You’d do that?! For me?!”
“Why, of course! I was once a clueless little newbie just like you. Trust me, you’ll be a master of debate in no time!” The breeze got waved away by them.
Training with the debate club captain? And becoming a master of debate?! Green hadn’t known they wanted that until this very moment!
This was- wow… just- wow.
“You… are you sure?!”
“If you ask again, I might not be.” Green's face looked stormy. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding… look, ‘gullible’ is written on the ceiling!”
The two simply stared at each other for a few seconds.
“Kay, not so bad…”
“Captain- Gosh! I’m so- I swear I won’t let you down!” They just barely managed not to start jumping up and down because of a certain tray and slice of pizza.
“Then I have your first chore!”
“Really?! Well, what is it?!”
Red cleared their throat, adjusting their tie. The tips of their shoes tapped gently on the floor as their hand reached into their pocket.
Their first task as the captain’s apprentice! Green had already bitten all of their nails.
“Can you put this in the trash?” The captain placed a small one-slice pizza box into their hand. “It’s too far away.”
They held the box, their hands too scared to even touch it. A random box that had been in the captain’s pocket for who knows how long…
Green set their own tray down on a random table, the cheese already hardened.
“On it, cap’n!”
They walked as fast as was acceptable in the cafeteria, their goal crystal clear: to toss some (captain's!) junk into the trash can. They could feel a bit of the grease through the cardboard.
Green opened the dry trash can. Several other pizza boxes had already been tossed inside.
The box fell on top of the others.
-
“So that’s why I believe- no, too uncertain...”
That’s why mirrors are the best audience: there’s no one really listening. And the echo in the bathroom made Green’s voice bounce back to their ears faster.
Their lips pressed together. “And that’s why hot dogs aren’t a type of sandwich!”
A drop from the faucet hit the granite; Green went out of their way to point at it.
“Yes, one could argue that the definition of a sandwich is a filling inside a piece of split bread, and that’s exactly where my point stands!”
The faucet fell silent, but the sounds from the hallways were still muffled in the distance. Just a few more minutes.
“The bun is hinged! Sandwiches aren’t a single piece of bread, they’re, uh- okay, I just stumbled there… dang it!” Their hands slapped against the cold stone of the sinks.
Green looked up. The stalls behind them were still ajar from the last people to leave the restroom. The paper towel in their hands crumpled slightly.
“Okay, starting over…” A long sigh. “Although buns and bread come from the same family-”
The loud ring of the bell echoed. Oh. Class. Right.
Green cleared their throat, the paper already crumpled into a ball. With a gentle flick of their wrist, they tossed the paper into the trash can. It fell to the floor.
“Oops, hah…” They looked around.
No point in trying to throw a piece of paper over long distances — it’s better to leave that to the basketball club.
Their hand almost slipped as they turned the doorknob; the door let out a soft creak. Green ran their hands over their shirt — no one was even looking, anyway…
“Whoa!” An almost head-to-head collision made them bite their tongue. “Oh- Green! Sorry, I’m running late- oh, fuck, my water!”
They looked down; a small puddle of water was very close to soaking their sneakers. They looked up; Purple was holding an open bottle. Green took a step back, their leg ready to just keep going and make it to class.
A march toward the two of them could have been heard from meters away.
“No no no no!” If Orange could, Green is sure they'd walk around with a whistle. “We have to close off this area! Did you know that water puddles are the leading cause of slips?”
“Oops, my bad.” Purple snarked and wiped their loafer on the water.
You could hear them choking on their words. “No no no- Purple, I have to bring the wet floor sign; you just made it worse!”
“It’s just… water.”
Probably the best option for Green was to close the bathroom door and pretend nothing had happened. But their fight-or-flight instinct always chose to freeze.
They stood there staring at each other for a while as the hallways emptied, the last slams of lockers echoing.
“Green.” They shifted their gaze to Orange. “You can’t leave until the puddle has been contained. Purple, go get the sign.”
Purple’s click of the tongue came along with a snort. “This is bullshit! We have classes to attend. We can’t just waddle around like we have nothing better to do, unlike some people!”
So hot dogs aren’t sandwiches because the bun is a single piece… but if the bun is split, does it become a sandwich?
“Green!” Their tone of voice made Green shudder. “Go get some paper towels so we can get the hell out of here.”
“No no no, that wouldn’t be efficient! Actually, that would only cause even more problems.” Purple gritted their teeth. “Just- stay here. I’m going to the closet to get the sign.”
Orange disappeared through a series of doors, their steps squeaked as they walked away.
Only two students plus a puddle of water remained.
“Let me tell you… sometimes Orange goes overboard. If not every time.”
“Uh, well… I think- I think they have a point.” Purple shot them a look. “It’s dangerous to leave a puddle of water on the floor because it’s see-through, and you can easily slip on it.”
You could hear the faucet in the bathroom dripping slowly.
“Did you know that one of my cousins had to get stitches because of a water puddle? Actually- it wasn’t really water — it was milk. And they didn’t really, actually slip; it was because of the cow’s kick-”
“Mm-hmm.”
“But! The point still stands. Though… I get what you mean.”
Their face seemed to relax a little. Purple slowly uncrossed their arms.
“It’s not something worth missing class over, and the people here are pretty strict. I just hope we can get away with it…”
A yellow sign fell right in front of them. “There! Now you’re free to go! Just go around it.”
“If Green could simply go around the puddle, why did you make them get stuck in the bathroom in the first place?”
They could hear the wind rushing past Orange’s head. Purple only massaged their temples, grunting.
“Just- just sign our permission slips so we can go to class.”
Orange simply pulled a carbon-copy form from their pocket and initialed the bottom.
“Student Green has been excused from the fifth period for student council matters that are not subject to outside inquiry. Signed by Orange.” The detachable slip fell into their pocket as they walked toward the classroom.
Sometimes, it’s nice to have someone who’s really listening.
-
You should know how to use each piece of cutlery at the table — that’s etiquette 101. Outside in; forks on the left, spoons and knives (with the blades facing inward) on the right. White learned this in elementary, if not earlier.
Plastic spoons are no silverware, but they’re fine for eating flan. Certainly better than dessert forks — life made it very clear that they should not be mixed with custards.
White took one last spoonful from their tiny container and closed the lid.
Everyone likes someone who knows the rules. Not that they have to be followed to the letter — something a certain hallway monitor should know — but if a rule exists, there must be a reason for it.
Why do cars drive on the asphalt? Because people walk on the streets! Why are dessert utensils placed in the middle of china? Because they’re the last ones to be used! That’s called logic; it’s not that hard.
The living room door was nearly blown off its hinges. “Kay, listen up!”
It was Red, papers in hand. Huh, to think that White would ever live to witness this — who would’ve thought?
“You were all assigned motions to research last week, and you’ll be paired up in duos to debate for or against them. That’s right, baby; we’ll have a 2v2 debate, an idea from your one and only captain!” Blue coughed from the back. “...With minor help from the vice-captain.”
A murmur went through the room, and soon everyone was asking each other which topic they’d been assigned and which side they were supposed to defend.
White glanced at their notes once more. This was the first somewhat more complex topic of the year — one that was unlikely to have come from Red.
“Since Orange did us the favor of scheduling a student council meeting right when we have our own meetings — ugh, I know — I will mediate today’s debate with Blue's supervision.”
Blue stepped forward. “It’s not ideal, but one cannot have the luxury of choice.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, just let me-” Slowly, Blue retreated further behind the stands.
A piece of pork collar would make a more competent captain than Red. White simply lined up their laminated cards.
“I’ll start with the first motion. None of Orange’s silly introductions — that’s kinda dumb, honestly.” They picked up one of the papers and tapped it lightly. “Oookay, first on the stage: should scholarships be given based on merit?”
So White would be one of the first to speak — that’s great. Raising the bar will encourage the whole club to do their best.
“Come to the stand: Brown and Black for, White and Green against!”
Green is their partner? The kid they helped with algebra? Who has no highlighter? Huh. Life really is unpredictable.
White stood up, adjusting their tie. Their opponents were already on the platform, a cracking sound coming from their knuckles. Meanwhile, Green gave a small step toward them.
Eventually, they arrived, fiddling with their shirttail. The backlight was turned off; everyone in their seats. White rested their forearms on the table, their fingers interlaced.
Black manages to turn everything into nihilism, and if Brown says two words at a time it's too much. This should be… manageable.
The captain sat down in one of the front-row desks and propped their feet on the table, the paper clearly more crumpled than before.
“Brown and Black, the floor is yours.”
Black scowled. “Rewards are the biggest motivation for studying. If you do well in school, you should get access to even better education. So why would you reward a student who doesn’t really give a shit about school in the first place?”
“With this method, students from all kinds of backgrounds can compete with other talented and dedicated students.” Brown's shirt wasn’t tucked into their pants properly. “It’s equality.”
“Plus, why should schools waste resources on people who don’t even care enough to participate in extracurricular activities, school workshops, and so on? That alone accounts for, like, half your grade.”
“Word.”
“Time’s up, I think…” Red glanced at their wristwatch. “Now let’s hear from White and Green.”
A hissing sound came from Green. White could catch a glimpse of an awkward smile and a look lost somewhere.
They simply assumed the appropriate posture for the situation.
“Don’t worry, I’ll lead this.”
Green’s distraction subsided. “Oh- uh, okay.”
“Standardized tests and GPAs have the only purpose to measure test-taking skills and school quality rather than the ability to construct texts and present arguments. How can you know that a student is eligible for a scholarship only by their capability of picking an option? It’s better to give the spot to someone who actually needs it.”
“And!” The table shifted slightly as Green rested their hands on it. “And… school isn’t a prize to be awarded; it’s- it’s a necessity! It’s a tool, and a way to teach basic skills for living and working. Heck, if you don’t study, how can you find a job to support yourself, or your family, or both?”
“Too many scholarship donors insist on awarding scholarships only to students who have achieved a certain level of success. Why? Because that’s more profitable, obviously. It lowers dropout rates, which is inherently beneficial for both the school and the student.”
“Okay, we’re done with the constructive speeches.” The captain slammed the papers down on the table. “Moving on to questioning — the defense has the floor.”
“What lesson are you teaching by giving someone something they haven’t worked for?” Black straightened their posture. “How can you know they won’t take it for granted and actually value the scholarship?”
Brown’s hands remained behind their back the entire time. “And even if the school does offer non-merit-based scholarships, GPAs still matter.”
“Mm-hmmmm, okaay.” They scribbled something on those sheets of paper — it hardly looked like words. “White and Green?”
“That’s hypothetical. How can you know they actually will take it for granted, too? Are you saying that everyone treats opportunities with disregard when they’re given one?” They tapped their fingernails on the wood.
“Hmm, and if GPAs are the same regardless of how scholarships are awarded, then why wouldn’t you want a system that prioritizes people who didn’t have the same opportunities as others, for example? I don’t think there are any downsides to need-based scholarships.”
Huh. In all of White’s research, they hadn’t come across that argument.
“And uh… I really believe that we, as a society, should be able to accept that we’ll never know what goes on in someone else’s mind.” They rocked back and forth on their heels.
“Interesting…” Humming to themselves, Red nodded. “Rebuttal?”
“Well, okay then, so you’re saying we should waste money that could be used to fund public schools that actually help even more people than a private one?”
“Uh…”
White tapped the podium lightly. “You’re going off on a tangent. Answer with something relevant to the topic.”
“Fine.” Their posture shifted dramatically, leaning forward more and more. “Even if need-based scholarships were the best choice, what happens when someone who actually studied for it loses their spot because someone with a lower income ‘deserved better’? Where do you draw the line?”
“No one ‘deserves better.’ That would imply there’s someone who isn’t worthy of an education.” White gestured slightly.
“Equality isn’t everything!” Black barely managed to keep from shouting.
“...You- you mean ‘equity,’ right?”
Neither of them said a word.
Green continued. “Isn’t your point that everyone has the same opportunity? That- when you say that ‘equality isn’t everything,’ you’re basically saying that merit-based shouldn’t be the only option.”
Their gaze slowly turned to their partner; Green was staring directly at Black and Brown.
“So, uh… need-based is the equity method. Not equality.” Just a random cough sounded in the background. “And, uh-”
“Time’s up!” Red clapped once. “That was good. I wish I had some popcorn right now, huh, guys?”
A slip of the tongue. Huh.
“Enough blabbing, let’s vote!”
The bag was passed around the classes until all the votes had been collected, then brought directly to the table in the center.
When Red went to pick up one of the slips of paper, Blue pushed their hand away. Thank goodness.
“Without further ado, since Blue took forever to count…” Not even two minutes had passed. “The answer to whether scholarships should be given based on merit is…”
The captain must be doing this on purpose. Every time they moderate a debate, it’s the same old story — something about tension being part of the experience or something like that. Tension actually increases stress and causes anxiety, so-
“No, it shouldn’t!”
Oh. They won.
I mean, of course they won, but… hmm. When they looked to the side, Green wasn’t there anymore.
“I did it, I did it!” They were hugging Cyan, jumping up and down.
“Yes! I knew you would!”
“It’s so fucking hard to argue when I believe both of them are correct.” Black stepped between the two of them, leaning against one of the desks. “I guess that’s why no one wants to join the debate club — too much effort for one extra number on their school record.”
“Really? You didn’t agree with all of it?”
They snorted. “Yeah, as if. Like meritocracy isn’t the dumbest shit ever.”
White took a step forward. Cyan wrapped one arm around both of them, their faces pressed close together.
Green was laughing gangly.
“Hey.” They stepped out from between them. “You did great. Nice job.”
“Oh- uh, thanks. You- you did a nice job too. Nice save when Black cornered me with the state schools.”
Their hand went to their pocket. “Your final argument was excellent.”
“Really?!”
“I knew it!” Cyan quickly chimed in. “That’s exactly what I expected from a Scorpio and a Pisces. I sensed it when I did Green’s birth chart!”
“Oh. So that’s why you asked if I was born via C-section or not.”
“Nope! That was just a fun little trivia!”
“...I’ll just forget that one of Cyan’s trivia nights might ask how we were conceived. I’m out.” They slipped out of the grip without any trouble.
The rest of the meeting was spent chatting, since it’s the captain’s specialty to drag out debates until the next week. White sat in their usual corner, their backpack open.
A little container with another flan. After all, didn’t they say that merit deserves rewards?
They grabbed a second plastic spoon and scooped out a small piece. Little by little, the custard disappeared, the caramel melting away. White didn’t hesitate to scrape the bottom — there are exceptions to the rule.
-
The first time Green went to the Chinese restaurant in their village was long ago. They can still remember being offered a fortune cookie; it was on the house — and who turns down a free treat?
People say they contain life lessons and ancient wisdom. So when they opened it and found a little slip of paper that read “you will be hungry in an hour,” it wasn’t exactly what they were expecting (even though it was right).
They already know what their friends are going to say about this story. Fate or a marketing ploy? That’s enough material for an entire meeting worth of TED Talk!
Green turned the doorknob, pushing the door open slightly. It came as no surprise that there was only one person sitting in the corner of the room, reading a book. After all, only the freshmen had been let out early, and considering there was only one other student in the club who was in their class, it was only a matter of time before they ran into each other.
They looked up from the book, turning the page shortly afterward. Green made their way to one of the desks in the front. They still had some schoolwork to do, so the time to kill could come in handy.
They pulled one of their textbooks out of their backpack, immediately opening it to today’s lesson. They reached for their pencil case to grab one of their pens, but it was already open — no pens in sight. Green just dug deeper into their backpack until they felt something solid, a little thicker than expected.
A package of strawberry cookies. They'd tossed it in with their stuff when they woke up late. It was new, probably pulled from the bottom of the drawer.
Well, since they were studying… a little cookie for a smart cookie, heh.
Green grabbed the seal on the side and ran their fingernail over it a few times. Then they licked their finger and tried to pull the plastic open, but their hand slipped — the package was a hair’s breadth from falling to the floor. A flick-flick filled the room for a moment.
Okay, they'd underestimated the seal’s strength. If Green had a pair of scissors, this battle would already be over. As a last resort, they brought the package to their mouth.
“Do you want help?” They lowered the book.
“Oh, uh-” Green reached out toward their class representative.
They came over, smoothing out their shirt, and took the package. With a flick of their fingers, the package was open. Green reached in slowly, staring at the first cookie inside.
“Thanks.”
The cookie was crunchy, the filling just the right balance of sweetness and texture. How could anyone not want more than one cookie?
Green picked up another one. “Uh… do you want one?”
“What brand?”
“Let me see…” Green turned the package over. “Chippyflippy? Strawberry.”
They raised an eyebrow. “No, thanks.”
Another one went into their mouth, in small bites. White went back to reading their book, crossing their legs. A rustling sound came as they turned the page.
The package was placed next to the book, and Green held another small piece in their hand.
“Well, it’s good.”
White just let out a brief hum without taking their eyes off the story. A few crumbs fell onto their notebook, and Green simply blew them away as they jotted a little more.
Eventually, voices from outside grew closer and closer to the room. They put away the package and their pens, zipping up their backpack.
Chippyflippys were no fortune cookies, but Green predicted they'd be hungry in about an hour.