It was time for a new email address.

As stupid as it seemed, this thing about writing emails behind a false identity was actually fun. Given that I had no credibility as Selene Chan, loner and weirdo of Rifton Girls' High, taking on a new identity, whether it be anonymous vigilante who sent cryptic texts or my multiple 'prim-and-proper' old lady characters, gave me a new kind of power over the recipients. After all, if they didn't know who was behind the screen, they would have to give me a chance and swallow the bitter pills I had.

In order to appeal to Sarah Anderson, I decided to make it a Marvel-themed email, complete with a profile picture of Tony Stark because he'd apparently sacrificed himself in the recent movie which had way too much hype. I'd heard her discussing it with some of the K-Pop Kids before - a deviation from the no-distraction thing, but allowed by Julie nonetheless - and she seemed like one of those emotional fans. If the use of pathos had to be summoned, then so be it.

✨

K for Karma. And the sparkle emoji for a touch of that 'uwu' energy.

I attached the photos and pressed the send button.

Hopefully, I hadn't majorly ruined everything for me.

But hey, it didn't matter - in a few weeks, all of this would be behind me, just history.

Hi,

Thanks for letting me know. Do you mind passing the journal to me so that I can give it back to Julie myself? There are a few things that I'd like to confirm for myself.

Yours faithfully,

Sarah Anderson

I raised my eyebrows at the default sign-off and clicked the on-off button of my phone, slipping it in the pocket hidden within the folds of the school pleat skirt.

It was early in the morning. Earlier than most students were in school, except for a rare few who were forced to come in early due to personal family arrangements and other strange things. Other reasons included project discussions and such. To my Mom, I believe, I had said "School stuff", which by now she had gotten used to hearing. And anyway, that was a half-truth. I was doing stuff in school, right?

The black hoodie had been pulled over my head since I got off the bus, disguised as protection from the early morning wind. While walking by the gates, I felt in my pocket for the fluffy winter gloves, my phone and the most important in-school-music-video-watching tool - earphones.

Perfect.

I had spent weeks watching the cliques as they stopped by lockers and Sarah Anderson's happened to be at the same height as mine, two rows away - which was why I remembered so clearly, even in the dark hallway illuminated by a couple lights. As I neared my target area with the CCTVs, I slipped my right arm out of the bag straps, swung my backpack so that it was in front of me and pulled my sunglasses, plus a certain book (that I'd spent time wiping down last night) out of the side pocket.

And... action.

I walked down the hallway, treading slowly in the eerie quiet as I made my way to the column for 731 to 735, about to place it on top of Locker 731 -

No.

I should stick to the default location that all missing items were returned to.

With that, I walked one level down and headed towards the Lost and Found, shoving my sunglasses and gloves back into my pocket. The cabinet for lost items was relatively empty, except for two water bottles, some lunchbox with shady, probably hundred-day-old crackers and an abandoned PE T-Shirt - gross.

I placed Julie's Journal on an empty section of the Lost and Found Cabinet.

All that was left was to cross my fingers and hope that for whatever reason, no one would conduct any fingerprint tests or scrutinise the CCTV over this.

I spent the rest of the morning in the study area next to the courtyard, only once leaving to get a hot coffee and a club sandwich from the canteen when there were more people in the school. But now, all I was doing was some of the final assignments that I would ever submit to Rifton Girls' High School. I had some random Spotify playlist softly playing the top songs of late, singing about jealousy, love and most horrifyingly of all, sex and drugs.

I raised my eyebrows a little as I noticed the students walking by, and a certain Sarah Anderson holding the same beige notebook as she loitered at the Intellectuals' regular gathering area near Julie's locker. Abigail Russo arrived next and the two began conversation as Sarah held a phone to Abigail, then quickly unbound Julie's Journal for a moment.

I suppressed the smirk and turned back to my worksheets, satisfaction blooming in me despite having lost my train of thought.

A weekend went by, busy with packing and preparing, my parents screaming at the two of us to get our luggages ready and such. Monday came along and I was back in school, holding an additional bag of small gifts that Mom made me buy for those in Chess Club. All the school withdrawal things had been settled, and by Wednesday, I'd no longer be here. One and a half years in Rifton Girls' High, and I was leaving.

And yet, I didn't feel sad about leaving - a fact that, in itself, was saddening. All this time being in the school, and I didn't even feel the attachment that any other student should. I was definitely not going to be bade farewell with photoshoots with my peers, not going to leave with hugs and tears. People would just know, give me a few polite well-wishes and vroom. Off to Dubai.

But even if I turned back the clock and had self-awareness to not try to get into the Populars' gang, who would I have gone with? The Leftovers, at best? No, I still wouldn't be happy. I guess my situation was bad, but it could be worse, just more restrictive and harsher on my mental health when it came to walking on all those extra eggshells.

But on the less melancholy and emo side, a leader had been overthrown by her own people.

Today, the teachers had finally decided to mention that I was going away, a social cue for the others to finally honour my soon-vanishing presence with the basic niceties. Somehow, I found Cass hovering over to my locker and dragging me off to eat with the other Leftovers, which was why I ended up doing Small Talk™ at their table.

I mean, I let them do the talking, only occasionally providing my input.

As they got absorbed fangirling about some actors in the last five minutes of recess, I chose to observe the Intellectuals' table.

The girls followed Sarah's lead as she went to dispose of her cutlery at the collection point, leaving Julie, who'd always been a slow-eater, to sit alone at their table.

Well, now she would learn, I guess.

I attempted to listen in to the conversation again, only to find that it harboured too much chaotic energy for my liking, and trying to enter would only lead to interruption, which would then cause me negative exposure. Yes, I wasn't going to see them for a while, but in case I ever met them again or I had to come back within the duration of my schooling years...

Okay, time to yeet myself out of here.

"Hey, I think I'm going to go refill my water bottle and go to the toilet before math starts," I said after tapping Cass on the shoulder, to which she responded with a sprightly "Okay, sure! See you!"

I smiled back gratefully and strode out of the canteen, letting out a sigh of relief.

Yeah, perhaps a new school in a new country would be good for me. I could reinvent myself, get a makeover like all those teen fiction movies showed. A new, less-awkward Selene would be a good Selene. Maybe I could even find real friends - what a concept.

I flicked the hatch up and placed the open bottle under the steady jet of ice-cold water, watching as it filled. Nothing like being alone for a while, away from the chaos and danger of the society of school that was the canteen.

Or so I thought.

"It was you, wasn't it?"