The hall felt less like a tidal wave and more like a river they were now confidently navigating. Their brief moment in the park, a quiet, shared understanding, was a secret that made the surrounding chaos fade to a manageable hum.
He led the way with a fluid, unspoken routine, weaving through the crowds to the male seniors he knew. Their conversations were brief and predictable—easy laughs, quick handshakes, and signatures with no demands. Rhay's social standing from his junior high days was their key, a currency of respect that bought them an effortless pass. With each signature, their quiet confidence grew, a profound certainty that they were a formidable team. This was going to be easy.
After collecting a handful of signed biographies, a quiet, shared triumph settled between them. Rhay's confidence was palpable, and he scanned the crowd, his gaze settling on a smaller group of girls. This was the next step, a test of their strategy with a different dynamic. He felt Vye's quiet presence beside him, and a silent reassurance passed between them. They could do this.
He spotted Rue, who was tall with a severe, blunt bob and a face whose features held more gravity than grace. As they approached, the group of girls shifted slightly, their chatter dimming to a low murmur. A flicker of something—disdain, judgment—crossed Rue's face as she noticed him coming with a girl.
"Hello, Sister Rue," Rhay said, his voice a little more formal now. "This is Vye. We're on the hunt for signatures." He held out both notebooks. "You just need to fill in the date and note section, Sis," he added, a smile on his face, "we'll fill in the rest." The suggestion, meant as a politeness, only fueled her suspicion.
Rue's eyes, sharp as ice, flicked over Vye. "Oh. I see. Following in your brother's footsteps, are we?" Her tone was laced with a sugary sweetness that was anything but kind. She didn't take either notebook. The jab was subtle, but it landed hard. Rhay's brother, Sam, had a reputation for charming new girls and then abandoning them. This was a direct accusation.
Vye felt Rhay tense beside her. The weight of Rue's words against him was clear. She instinctively felt the urge to step back, to let him handle this mess. But then, she remembered their promise. Their hands had just linked, and now this was their first real test. Rhay was already planning his next move, a quick apology and an escape, but Vye's hand came up and gently nudged his elbow, a silent reminder. She met Rue's gaze directly, her expression calm, her poise surprising even herself.
"We're just helping each other out. So, we'd be grateful for your signature, Sis," Vye said, her voice soft but steady.
"Helping each other out?" Rue repeated, a small, cynical smile playing on her lips. She finally took Vye's notebook only. "There's a saying around here: 'A good sister gives and a great one earns.'" She pointed to the blank "note/advice" section. "If you're his partner, why don't you try to solve a little riddle for us, and we'll fill out the rest?" She took a pen from her pocket and wrote a question in the empty space.
The paper read: "He is not his brother, but they share a face. He walks a path unseen, but stands in the same place. What makes him different?"
Vye took the notebook and looked at the question, then back at Rue. She didn't have to think. The answer came to her with the same unthinking ease as breathing. Her hand was steady as she wrote a single phrase beneath the riddle: "His company."
Rue took the notebook back, her gaze fixed on the page. The cynical smile vanished. She looked at Vye, then at Rhay, then back at Vye. The corner of her mouth quirked into a genuine, if small, smile.
"Well, aren't you a cool one." She proceeded to fill out the remaining sections of the biography in Vye's notebook. She then signed it with a flourish. The signature was quick, but the look she gave Vye was long and appraising. She then turned to Rhay and, without a word, signed his notebook as well. It was a silent acknowledgment: Vye had passed her test, not as Rhay's friend, but as her own person.
They moved on, their quiet victory from the last encounter buoying them. The next senior was sitting with a group near the edge of the hall, but she wasn't fully with them. She sat a little apart, her gaze distant, a textbook lying open on her lap. She was tall, with a face that was more classically beautiful than it was pretty, framed by a cascade of sleek black hair. Rhay's smile faltered, replaced by a guarded expression Vye had never seen.
"Hello, Sister Kay," he said, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "It's been a while."
Kay looked up, and her eyes, which were a warm brown, immediately found Rhay's. They held for a moment before dropping to the notebooks in his hand. Her gaze then drifted to Vye, and a shadow of something unreadable—was it pain? annoyance?—crossed her face.
"Rhay," she said, the name a flat, neutral sound. "Didn't expect you'd come. And with... company." The tension was immediate and palpable. Unlike the other girls, this was not just a passing annoyance. It was personal. Rhay instinctively stepped a little closer to Vye, and Kay's lips thinned as she watched the protective gesture.
"We're doing the biography hunt," Rhay explained, his voice tight. "Could you—"
"A biography hunt?" Kay interrupted, a thin smile on her lips. She finally looked at Vye, her eyes assessing. "And he's your guide?" She paused, her gaze shifting back to Rhay, her eyes narrowing. "You know, you're so much like him, it's almost uncanny. He was always finding the prettiest new girls to show around." Her voice dropped to a low, chilling whisper. "It seems you're following in his footsteps."
The words were a statement filled with all the weight of their shared, difficult past. Rhay's jaw tightened. He was about to retort, but Vye's hand came up again, her touch on his arm a calming presence.
"We're just trying to get this done. Would you please sign for us?" she said, her voice light and without a hint of the tension in the air. "It's been a long day for all of us."
Kay held Vye's gaze for a long moment, the cynicism in her eyes softening slightly. She finally reached for Vye's notebook and took a pen. She quickly filled in her biography details, her movements sure and decisive. In the "note/advice" section, she wrote a single, cryptic sentence: "Don't let him fade into the background." She then signed Vye's notebook with a flourish.
She handed it back to Vye, then took Rhay's and simply signed it. The signatures were quick, but the look she gave Vye was long and appraising. Rhay and Vye walked away, their notebooks now containing a signature earned through a confrontation that had ended not with a fight, but with a quiet warning.