Chapter Text
THE SCHOOL CALLED. AGAIN.
The call comes at 10:17 AM.
Film knows it’s bad because the school never calls this early unless something has gone horribly wrong… or, more specifically, Lunar-shaped wrong.
By 10:19, Film is pacing. At 10:20, she’s already apologizing to a situation she hasn’t even heard yet. “I told her this morning to behave,” Film mutters, running a hand through her hair. “She nodded, Namtan. She nodded like she understood—”
From the couch, Namtan doesn’t even look up from her phone. “She did understand,” she says calmly. “She just chose not to comply.”
Film stops pacing. “That’s worse.”
Namtan finally glances up, completely unbothered. “I’ve been expecting this call since she learned how to walk.”
Film is already tense the moment they step inside, hands clasped together like she’s about to beg for forgiveness. Namtan, on the other hand, walks in like she’s attending a mildly inconvenient meeting.
Behind the desk sits Lunar’s teacher. There is a folder in front of them. It is thick and labeled: “LUNAR INCIDENTS (THIS WEEK)”
Film makes a small, strangled noise. “Oh my god.”
Namtan exhales slowly, dragging a hand down her face. “That’s new. It used to be a pamphlet.”
The teacher doesn’t laugh.
That’s when Film knows it’s serious.
“Thank you for coming in,” the teacher says, voice measured in the way of someone who has had to rehearse this conversation multiple times. “We wanted to discuss some… behavioral concerns regarding your daughter.”
“I am so, so sorry,” Film blurts immediately. “We’ll talk to her, we’ll fix everything, she’s usually very sweet, I don’t know what happened—”
“Film.” Namtan’s voice is gentle, but grounding. “Let her finish, honey.”
Film nods rapidly, though she still looks like she might dissolve into the floor.
The teacher opens the folder. There are tabs. “First,” she begins, “Lunar has… initiated what appears to be a snack distribution system.”
Namtan tilts her head. “Distribution.”
The teacher blinks. “Yes.”
Film leans forward. “What does that mean?”
The teacher slides a paper across the desk.
It’s a chart. There are columns labeled:
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Product
-
Price
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Peak Demand Time
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Preferred Clients
Film stares at it like it personally offended her. “…What am I looking at?”
“According to several students,” the teacher says, “Lunar has been trading snacks. However, she does not accept trades of equal value. She sets prices.”
Film slowly turns to Namtan.
Namtan is staring at the chart. She wasn't horrified, instead she was analyzing. “Oh,” Namtan murmurs. “She adjusted pricing during lunch rush.”
Film grabs her arm. “Do not sound impressed.”
“I’m not,” Namtan says, still looking at the paper. “I’m observing. Wow, this kid—”
“It doesn’t stop there,” the teacher continues.
No one was surprised.
“There have been reports that she assigned roles to other students.”
“Roles,” Film echoes weakly.
“Yes. ‘Runners.’ ‘Suppliers.’ One student claimed to be in ‘customer retention.’”
Film puts her face in her hands. How does a kid like Lunar even know these terms, she still wonders. “Oh my god, she built a company.”
Namtan leans back in her chair, crossing her arms. “…Did she keep records of profit?”
Film lifts her head so fast it’s almost alarming. “Namtan.”
“I’m asking for context.”
“You are encouraging her.”
“I am assessing the situation, honey.”
The teacher clears their throat. “There is also the matter of the… ghost.”
Film freezes, her eyes blinking. “I’m sorry,” she says slowly. “The what?”
“The ghost,” the teacher repeats, with the patience of someone who has said this sentence too many times today. “Lunar has convinced a significant portion of the class that there is a ghost living in the supply closet.”
And as if on cue, a scream echoes from down the hall.
“IT MOVED AGAIN!”
Film visibly flinches.
Namtan raises an eyebrow. “…Impressive timing.”
“Half the class refuses to retrieve materials now,” the teacher says flatly. “We are… experiencing disruptions.”
Film looks like she’s about to apologize again, but no words come out this time. Just a soft, horrified wheeze.
“And finally,” the teacher says, flipping to another tab, “Lunar reorganized the classroom seating chart.”
Film blinks. “Even that?”
“She said the previous arrangement had ‘bad energy.’”
There is a printed diagram, with arrows, and notes. One of them reads “These two talk too much. Separate.” And another says, “This group has potential.”
Namtan lets out a breath through her nose.
Film turns to her slowly. “…If you laugh, I will leave you here.”
“I’m not laughing,” Namtan says, though there is definitely something happening at the corner of her mouth. “Our daughter has a knack in optimizing.”
Then the teacher folds their hands. “We’re concerned that Lunar may need… behavioral correction.”
Film straightens immediately. “Yes. Yes, of course, we’ll do whatever is necessary—”
Namtan leans forward slightly. “Before that,” she says, “we’d like to hear her side.”
The teacher nods. “…That would be helpful.”
The door opens. And there she was the star of the discussion. Lunar walks in like she’s not the subject of an entire folder.
She was suspiciously unbothered. “Hi Mâe,” she says to Film, then to Namtan, “Hi Má.”
Film melts instantly while Namtan gestures to the chair in front of them.
“Sit.”
Lunar obeys, her back straight, and hands on her lap. Like she’s about to present a report.
Namtan looks at her for a moment.
“Explain.”
Lunar nods. And without hesitation, “I identified inefficiencies.”
Film makes a small noise.
Namtan doesn’t react. “Go on.”
“The snack system lacked structure,” Lunar continues. “I provided solutions.”
“And the ghost?” Film blurts.
Lunar glances at her. “That was for crowd control.”
The teacher stares.
Film stares.
“…Effective,” Namtan mutters.
Film grabs her again. “Stop that.”
Lunar looks between them. The girl was completely serious. “I didn’t do anything wrong,” she says. “I improved things.”
And the worst part is that she believes it.
The teacher exhales, “I’ll… give you a few minutes,” they say, already halfway to the door. There’s a pause on her side, almost as an afterthought, “Please try to keep it… constructive.”
The door shuts behind them.
Lunar sits straight in her chair. Film stands in front of her, still trying to process everything. Namtan leans back against the desk, arms crossed, expression carefully neutral. Then she pushes herself off the desk.
She steps forward. Stops right in front of Lunar.
This is it.
The “strict parent” moment.
Namtan crouches down so they’re eye level. Her voice is calm. “How many times have you been grounded in the last three months?”
Lunar pouts, calculating, "Three... once every month."
Namtan breathes in and out, "Well, sweetie, you're grounded."
Lunar nods immediately. “Okay.”
Film blinks. That was… easier than expected.
But Namtan isn’t done. “What you did—” she continues, steady, “—was inappropriate. You disrupted your class, you scared your classmates, and you took advantage of them.”
Lunar frowns slightly. “I didn’t take advantage,” she says. “I provided options.”
Film makes a noise somewhere between a sigh and a whimper.
Namtan holds up a hand without looking at her. Still focused on Lunar. “Intent doesn’t erase impact, sweetie,” she says.
Lunar pauses at that.
“And the ghost,” Namtan adds, tilting her head slightly, “was unnecessary.”
“It improved efficiency,” Lunar replies.
“I’m sure it did.”
Film snaps her head toward Namtan. “That’s not the point.”
“I know,” Namtan says quickly. “I’m just—acknowledging.”
“You are doing more than acknowledging.”
“I am not—”
“You asked about her profit margin five minutes ago.”
“That was situational awareness, honey.”
Film presses her fingers to her temples. “Incredible,” she mutters. “I am parenting with a consultant.”
Namtan clears her throat, straightening a little.
She needed to be strict. Right.
She looks back at Lunar. “Don’t try to reorganize people’s lives because you think you know better,” she says.
Lunar’s shoulders shift, just slightly. “But it worked,” she says quietly.
Namtan exhales. There was that tiny crack she is trying not to show. Because she knows it did. “…That’s not the point,” she says, though there’s less force behind it.
Film shoots her a look. Stay on track.
Namtan tries again. “You scared your classmates,” she says. “They trust you. You can’t use that against them.”
Lunar looks down at her hands. “I didn’t think they’d be that scared,” she admits.
Film softens immediately, as she always does. She steps closer, kneeling beside Namtan. “Hey,” she says gently.
Lunar looks up.
Film’s expression isn’t angry. It’s not even disappointed. “You’re really smart, sweetie,” Film says softly. “We know that.”
Lunar blinks.
Namtan glances at Film, but doesn’t interrupt.
“You see things differently,” Film continues. “You solve problems in ways other people don’t. And that’s a good thing.”
Lunar straightens just a little.
“But,” Film adds, her voice just as gentle, “every action has consequences.”
Lunar’s fingers curl slightly in her lap.
“If people feel scared,” Film says, “or if they feel like they don’t have a choice… that matters. Even if you didn’t mean it that way.”
Lunar processes that.
“I didn’t want them to be scared,” she says quietly.
Film nods. “I know.”
“I just wanted things to work better.. and to be more fun.”
“I know,” Film repeats, softer this time.
Namtan watches the two of them.
Film reaches out, brushing a strand of hair away from Lunar’s face. “So we fix it, okay?” she says. “That’s what we do when we mess up. We fix it.”
Lunar nods slowly. “Okay.”
Namtan clears her throat.
She’s still a parent. She steps back in. “You’re still grounded,” she says firmly.
Lunar nods again. “Okay.”
“No negotiations.”
“Okay.”
“No… business activities.”
There’s the slightest hesitation.
“…Okay.”
Namtan narrows her eyes.
“Lunar.”
“I said okay.”
Namtan nudges her daughter, “…Your delegation was good,” she mutters under her breath.
Film turns her head so slowly it’s almost threatening. “Namtan.”
“I’m just saying—”
“No.”
“She identified roles efficiently—”
“No.”
“She had a system—”
“Namtan, I swear—”
Lunar watches them. Then, as if her mother needed more to be pissed about, “I can write a better system.”
Film closes her eyes.
Namtan exhales through her nose. “…We are not building a better system.”
“We could fix the fear issue,” Lunar offers.
“No.”
“Add consent—”
“No.”
“Transparency—”
“Lunar.”
“…We’ll discuss it at home,” Namtan says.
Film whips around. “We will not—”
“We’ll discuss it,” Namtan repeats softly with a smile on her face.
Film stares at her. Then at Lunar, who looks extremely ready to present ideas.
Film sighs. Fond, despite everything. “We’re raising a menace,” she murmurs.
Namtan glances at Lunar. “…A brilliant one, I might say,” she says quietly.
Lunar added another word before the teacher went back inside, “…Do you want to hear the revised plan?”
Film sighs, shaking her head while Namtan gave her daughter a wink and proud smile.