Chapter 23: The Things They'd Trade
The silence in the room was heavy. Not uncomfortable — but thoughtful. As the students bent over their notebooks, the sound of pens scratching paper filled the air. Each word written was a crack in their armor, a glimpse behind the polished minds they wore like masks.
I sat at the edge of the circle, watching. Not judging. Just listening.
"Who's ready to share?" I asked after several minutes.
No one moved at first. Then slowly, a hand rose.
Juno, always the first.
"I want to be heard," she said. "Not just listened to. Heard. Understood. I'd trade... my comfort. I'd trade being liked. I'd rather be real than liked."
Nods. A few impressed glances.
Haruto followed. "I want control. Over myself, over outcomes. I'd trade simplicity. I don't want an easy life. Just one where the variables make sense."
"Even if that means being alone?" I asked.
He nodded. "Especially then."
Tamir leaned back in his seat. "I want to break the system that broke my parents. I'd trade safety. I'd trade being invisible. I want the power to make change, even if that makes me a target."
Eva, quiet until now, spoke softly. "I want to feel something. Anything. I'd trade logic, just for one moment of pure feeling. Maybe even pain."
The room stilled.
They weren't just brilliant. They were bruised.
Emel raised her hand. "I want my brother back. He died in a camp two years ago. If I could bring him back, I'd trade everything. My place here. My future. All of it."
Some looked away. Others blinked hard.
"I know I can't," she added. "But that's still what I want."
I let that sit for a moment.
Then I looked to the others.
Some weren't ready to speak. That was fine. This wasn't a test. But even those who stayed silent had something etched into their faces — a quiet storm.
"Here's the truth," I said finally. "Wanting something doesn't make you weak. Admitting what you'd give up for it? That's power."
They watched me. Waiting for more.
"Some of you will have to make real trades one day. Not in games. Not in theory. In boardrooms. In operating rooms. On battlefields. In silence. I want you to remember this feeling — not of wanting, but of cost."
No one smiled. No one joked.
They understood.
A boy near the back raised his hand.
"What about you?" he asked. "What would you trade?"
I looked at him. Really looked.
"Everything," I said. "And I already did."
I left them with that.