And Dimas truly lived up to his words.
The school hallway was nearly empty. Several classrooms had been locked, and the sound of the janitor's brooms could be heard softly at the end of the corridor. The student council room was still open, with two people inside: Nayara and Nisa.
Nisa was busy pasting activity posters on the bulletin board. Nayara sat at a long table, reviewing this month's list of activities. The papers were neatly stacked, complete with highlighters and sticky notes, arranged in ascending order.
"I really don't understand why you're so obsessed with checking the list one by one," Nisa said without looking up.
"If I miss anything, it'll be a mess," Nayara replied, writing.
"Your dream is to be a computer, huh?" Nisa teased. "Fast, neat, structured."
Nayara just smiled slightly. "At least I'm not error."
Nisa stared at the poster she had just posted. "This semester is so packed. Debate, basketball, quizzes. My head is about to explode. I can't imagine being you."
Before Nayara could reply, there was a loud knock on the door to the student council room.
Dimas appeared, his hair disheveled, his bag slung over his shoulder, and a basketball in his hand. His breathing was still a little heavy—a sign he'd just finished practice.
"Good afternoon, state administrator!" he exclaimed.
Nisa immediately looked at him suspiciously. "Dimas? Why did you bring a ball into the student council room?"
"A symbol of struggle," he replied casually, sitting across from Nayara.
Nayara lifted her head. "What do you need, Dim?"
Dimas put a flyer on the table. The headline was large: INTER-GRADE BASKETBALL GAME.
"Sis, my team needs help," he said quickly. "Can the student council distribute an announcement and... yeah, invite some girl spectators to make it lively?"
Nisa immediately crossed her arms. "Are you asking for supporters or a fan club?"
Dimas just grinned innocently. "If possible, both."
Nayara looked at him calmly. "We can help, as long as you send an official letter."
"An official letter?" Dimas stared at Nayara in disbelief. "Nay, this is a basketball game, not a cabinet meeting."
Nisa laughed loudly. "He's not wrong."
"Rules are rules," Nayara said. "I'll help you with the draft. You just have to sign as the head of the basketball club."
Dimas took a deep breath, but his eyes remained gleaming. "Okay. But at least you come to watch, okay? Just once. To cheer the kids up."
Nayara looked down again, pretending to focus on the activity list. "I'm not making any promises."
Nisa nudged her arm. "Just come, Nay. It's a bit of a refreshment."
Nayara stared at Nisa for a moment and then smiled slightly. "We'll see."
Dimas immediately got up. "Okay! That's like your version of yes."
He spun the ball on his fingertip, then walked to the door, whistling. Before leaving, he turned and said a cheeky line:
"Aren't you curious to see Raka play?"
It was a rhetorical question. Dimas left without waiting for an answer.
Nisa looked at Nayara with a wide, overly obvious smile.
"Curious, aren't you?" Nisa asked meaningfully.
Nayara shook her head, holding back a smile. "Dimas just can't keep still."
"But seriously, aren't you curious?" Nisa teased.
"No," Nayara answered quickly. Too quickly.
Nisa raised an eyebrow. "Your face doesn't support your answer."
Nayara closed her book, stood up, and looked at the bulletin board. "I'm going home first. Don't forget to lock the room."
Nisa just smiled broadly. "Yes, Miss Serious. But if you watch, I'll pretend to be surprised."
Nayara didn't answer. She walked out of the room. A small, late-appearing expression lingered on her face—a mix of curiosity, awkwardness, and a little confusion.
Outside the window, the afternoon sky was beginning to dim. On the court, the faint sound of a basketball could be heard again, no one knew whose it belonged to.