Holding Ernie’s hand, we step out into the crisp morning air, the city’s ever-present hum filling the space around us. The streets are already alive, workers rushing to their jobs, self-driving delivery trucks clogging intersections, and the occasional street vendor setting up for the day. The weight of another school week settles on my shoulders as we begin our usual route, step after step in silence, down the same cracked pavement we tread every day. The straight, unbroken path feels heavier than usual, an endless stretch of worn asphalt lined with lifeless concrete buildings. The air is thick with the stagnant scent of damp stone and the acrid sting of burning trash drifting from some unseen alley. Around us, the steady march of students and workers moves in quiet resignation, a slow-moving current of bodies all headed toward the inevitable.

  My mind drifts as my feet move on autopilot. It’s funny how I can be this exhausted and still not manage to sleep because of my racing thoughts. Yet, when I need to concentrate in class, my body betrays me, and I am doing all that I can to not be dragged into sleep. The beginning of a week always feels endless, and this one is no exception. I really don’t think I could keep living like this if the end of school wasn’t so close. Just two more months until final exams. Then, at least, I’ll have more time, and more money to take care of my family before figuring out my own future. Maybe I’ll even get to sleep properly for once to recover my overworked mind and body.

  What am I going to do about Roselyn, though? If she refuses to work to gain experience and refuses to take school seriously to gain a valuable education, she will be out living with the homeless on the street as soon as Dom loses interest or moves his eyes on to a different captivating object of his desire. And she doesn’t even have the kind of fashion or refined elegance to manipulate a rich man into taking care of her. I have maybe a year to find the right connections to help her establish a stable path with future prospects before it’s too late. But where do I even start?

  I realize that my grip on Ernie’s hand has become too tight as he shifts uncomfortably, trying to pull away. He wiggles his fingers in protest, and I quickly let go. “Sorry, my mind was elsewhere,” I murmur, shaking my head back to the present.

  I wonder why I did that.

  We pass a cluster of homeless people huddled under a bridge, their ragged blankets and tattered coats barely shielding them from the morning cold. One of them glances up, and a shiver runs down my spine. That’s what it is, it’s that feeling again, the creeping sensation of having eyes following my movements. It can’t be every time I go anywhere, can it?

  My thoughts churn, rationality battling the creeping paranoia that’s been clinging to me for weeks. I remind myself that Claudia always jokes about United World having clairvoyant powers, that they can see anything they choose to focus on. She believe that’s why Dad refuses to leave the house, despite not having a device that we are aware of tracking his location. He would know best about it. He did work there, after all.

  I need to tell her to stop joking about that. I can’t afford to start believing in conspiracy theories.

  Now is not the time to start imagining magic eyes tracking me through the streets. But then again, I wouldn’t feel like I was being watched if no one was physically here… or would I?

  I frown at the thought. Ernie’s group of friends would have great fun debating that kind of philosophical question.

  I speed up my walking, pulling Ernie along. He glances up at me with an inquisitive look, but he doesn’t resist and seems to understand we are now in a hurry. The tension in my shoulders only eases when we step through the security checkpoint at school.

  School isn’t a place where I usually feel safe. But somehow, behind the barred windows and thick concrete walls, the walls create a sense of separation from whatever is out there.

  Ernie rushes toward his friends the moment we clear the checkpoint, his excitement replacing whatever quiet concern he’d been holding.

  “Don’t run in here, Ernie!” I call after him, watching as he disappears into the sea of uniforms. “You’ll hurt yourself or get in trouble.”

  He slows down slightly without looking back. I take a small comfort that he at least heard me.

  Scanning the hall, I spot Jono standing by the wall near the stairwell. His posture is flawless, and his sharp eyes scan the crowd with the quiet awareness he always carries. His uniform is neat, his tie perfectly straight, his black hair combed to one side in a way that makes him look like he actually cares. “Hi, Jono. Have you been waiting long?”

  “My parents left early for work, so I’ve been here for about an hour. Nothing else to do but wait for Claudia,” he replies with a shrug.

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  An hour? That means he must have left home before dawn.

  “I finished all my homework and even the assignments last night. I’ll start studying for exams soon, but not this soon.”

  Exams. I haven’t even begun to think that far ahead.

  “I didn’t get to do much last night,” I admit, adjusting the strap of my bag on my shoulder. “And I don’t expect to get much more done before the weekend either. You’re lucky to have finished everything already.”

  Jono shrugs, his smile thin and unconvincing. “Well, my parents make sure I’m keeping up with all my schoolwork. They want me to study hard and get an engineering job.” He pauses, glancing at me. “But I think developing video games sounds a lot more fun.”

  I scoff a small laugh. “You’d never have to worry about money with an engineering job.”

  I can't help but feel a twinge of sadness remembering that Dad once had one of those...

  “I suppose you’re right,” he says, shifting his weight. “It’s good security for a family one day.”

  Before I can respond, Claudia arrives, breezing through the checkpoint, her long brown hair swinging as she walks. She looks mildly surprised to see both of us standing together. As she steps closer, her usual confident smirk tugs at the corners of her lips.

  "Patiently waiting for me? You should be thanking me for teaching you valuable life lessons," she says, her voice laced with its usual teasing lilt. She gives me a quick hug, then Jono, before tilting her head slightly. "You weren’t talking about me, were you?"

  I raise an eyebrow, amused. “Why? Would you be disappointed if we weren’t?”

  Her smirk widens. “Maybe a little... I’m a great topic.”

  She can’t resist adding a little drama to the conversation, not that I’d ever admit to her that it livens things up a bit.

  With that, we all start the long, tedious trek up the stairs toward first period, Chinese class. The halls around us echo with the steady thud of footsteps, the occasional burst of laughter, and the steady murmur of conversations. The scent of stale air and yesterday’s floor cleaner hangs in the stairwell, mixing with the odor of morning breath and sweaty boys.

  Despite the strange weight pressing on my mind from earlier, I let myself settle into the routine of the morning. Whoever was watching me, if anyone was, can wait.

  The Chinese classroom is a dull, rectangular space, the kind that feels more like a storage unit for students rather than a place of learning. In other words, it fits the theme of the school well. Rows of desks stretch out in rigid lines beneath the dormant lights, their absence of illumination casting a cold, sterile ambiance. The barred windows let in only faint slivers of sunlight, leaving the classroom steeped in dimness. It is far from an ideal learning environment, the darkness offering cover for mischief in the back rows. The air is thick with the mingling scents of aged textbooks, cheap ink, and the lingering traces of long-forgotten spills on the desks.

  I settle into my usual spot in the middle of the room, Claudia on my right and Jono one seat away from her. The chairs are hard and unyielding, their metal frames squeaking against the cracked linoleum floor whenever someone shifts. The large, dust-smeared windows barely let in the morning light, casting an uneven glow over the students who have arrived. Roselyn and Dom aren’t in this class, but I already know that Sabina and Sam will show up whenever it suits them, slipping in just late enough to avoid attention but early enough to not be marked absent. Not that I have ever seen a teacher check which students are in attendance.

  Mrs. Zhang still hasn’t arrived. The classroom remains in its usual state of mild uproar, low murmurs and the occasional burst of laughter bouncing off the echoing walls. I lean in toward Claudia, lowering my voice to share my morning suspicions once again.

  She listens, her expression tightening as her fingers idly twist the edge of her notebook, processing my words. Her questions come quickly, laced with concern. “Who do you think it could be? Did you see anyone familiar? Have you told anyone?” Just as I begin to explain what I felt, she cuts in, her voice tinged with unease. “You know, I’ve been getting the same feeling too.”

  I tense at her words. It was one thing to have my own paranoia eating at me, but hearing Claudia say it so casually makes it feel more real, more pressing.

  “We need to stop joking about United World watching us with their clairvoyant sight powers,” I say firmly, watching her reaction. She pauses, her eyes narrowing slightly as she considers this with a depth I wasn’t expecting. “Maybe that is what’s happening,” she murmurs, more to herself than to me. “We’re both getting the feeling that we’re being watched. With everything they’ve invented to push the world’s energy sources further… I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve come across other intrinsic types of energy.”

  Well, that doesn’t help my mind at all.

  “Maybe it is true,” I mutter, more to ground myself than anything else. “But unless I can get it out of Dad… which seems unlikely… I won’t know for sure, and I’d rather not think about it or discuss it at all.”

  Claudia tilts her head, considering this before nodding. “Fair enough. I’ll try to do the same.”

  Jono, who has been quietly listening, finally speaks up. “I haven’t been getting that feeling of being watched myself.”

  Claudia’s head snaps toward him, her voice sharp. “Not now, Jono, leave it. Didn’t you just hear us say we’re trying to get it out of our minds?”

  Jono blinks, clearly caught off guard, then mutters, “Sorry.” He lowers his gaze, pretending to focus on his notes for class, his fingers tapping idly against the desk.

  I watch the exchange in silence, pressing my lips together. Claudia can be hard on Jono sometimes. She has a habit of being abrupt, brushing him off without realizing how sharp her words can be. I consider saying something but ultimately let it go. Their relationship isn’t my responsibility, and for whatever reason, it seems to work for them.

  Outside, the distant sound of the school bell chimes through the corridors, signalling that class is about to begin. The tension we feel fades into the background as Mrs. Zhang finally steps through the door, her stern presence settling over the classroom like a heavy weight. I take one last glance at Claudia and Jono before turning my attention to the front, pushing my anxious thoughts aside.