I wish my best friend would rely on me more. Kamorina is one of the strongest, most independent girls I’ve ever met. She supports me in everything, and I love her for it, but she refuses to lean on me in return. Sometimes I wonder if it’s because I’m not good enough for her, but I know that’s not the case. I’m not the only person she rejects like this - in fact, other than her siblings, I’m probably the person who knows her the best. I’m even the only person (outside her family) allowed to call her by a nickname, though only in private.

But she still won’t tell me what’s really going on.

Like the rest of the Student Council, I know that her bruises aren’t from clumsiness. She’s one of the most careful people I know, actually. But I respect her privacy and force myself to accept her excuses.

When it comes to Kami’s injuries, I really have to admire Lakodi. Despite being continuously rejected and lied to, he continues to consistently question the origins of her wounds. I know how desperately he’s trying to hide the depth of his care for her, but… well, he’s totally failing. So far it’s only our classmates who’ve noticed, and they’re holding their silence out of respect, but it’s only a matter of time until someone else finds out. I’ve no doubt how Kami would react -- absolute rejection. She respects him as an opponent, but at the end of the day all that means is that they’re on opposite sides of an academic conflict. It would take a miracle for her to accept him.

That doesn’t change what he just did. Pulling her up on the stage and forcing her to deliver the entirety of what should have been his speech when he knows talking drains her was simply cruel. I don’t know why he tries to show himself as uncaring and I honestly don’t care. He needs to apologize - or at the very least, help clean up the mess he made.

“Seriously, Lakodi, get over here and help me move this thing. The podium is heavy.” I glare at the Vice President with something close to murder in my eyes, and he reluctantly comes over to help. I know he feels guilty - however well he’s hiding it - and wants to hover and make sure she’s all right, but Kami is a strong girl and would take offense to such an act.

As we drag the lectern out of sight, I hear the door open. “Mori!” I hear a young girl yell, followed by a boy’s, “Rina!”

I laugh quietly, stepping out from the wings of the stage to greet Kami’s siblings. “Conor, Kara, good to see you again. Do you need more antibiotic ointment?” Conor nods and holds out a scraped-up arm. “I swear, you three are the clumsiest people I know.” I pull out the antibiotic paste. “Here, but you have to give me a hug before you can have some.” I grin at them and they laugh and come over to me.

“Yuli!” Kara squeals. “You’re so pretty today! Which class do you have?”

“Ask your sister,” I say with a smile. “We’re in the same class, just like every other year.”

“Hey, Lina,” Conor says, “do you have any spare food? I’m hungry.”

I laugh a little. Conor has been asking for food ever since his growth spurts started. “Of course I do,” I say, rummaging around in my bag. “When have I ever not had food for you?”

They both grin and take the apples I found. “Oh, never,” Kara says, grinning. “He just doesn’t want to assume and impose on your kindness.” I can hear the sarcasm in her voice, and it makes me smile. She seems kind and gentle, but she’s really a little spitfire inside.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“What’s wrong with Rina?” Conor asks. “Did she have to give a speech again?”

“Yeah,” I say. “It’s orientation today, after all. Student President tells them the rules. Since you’re here, d’you mind helping us clean up? We could use some extra hands while Kami’s recovering.”

I see a flicker of a smile on Kami’s face before Kara draws my attention again. “Of course we’ll help! I’m sure he’s no help anyway. Sometimes boys seem so useless, I think things would almost be better without them.”

“Oh, don’t say that,” I smirk. “Can you honestly imagine this world without an older brother to annoy? ’Sides, sometimes they’re funny.”

She nods and opens her mouth to respond, but Lakodi cuts her off. “Why do you all call her by different names? Didn’t she say she doesn’t answer to nicknames anyway?”

We stare at him for a moment before bursting into laughter. Conor speaks first. “Well, I call her Rina because it’s funny to have Rina and Lina.”

Kara nods. “And I call her Mori because I couldn’t say her name when I was little.”

Still chuckling, I add, “I call her Kami because it was the only nickname I could convince her to respond to. As for your second question, she only answers nicknames from people she really trusts and cares about. It’s kind of like an honor.”

He nods. I can tell he’s not fully satisfied, but there’s no way I’m telling him why we really get to call her these things. Only those who see her at her worst, at her most vulnerable, get to use a nickname. To begin with, only her very close friends get to use her first name, and I know Lakodi has been chafing under the restriction of calling her by her surname only, but she still sees him as an opponent.

Conor looks up at me with a question mark in his eyes, but I shake my head a little. I’ve spent enough time with the Twistorm siblings to have at least some idea of what they’re going through at home, though I’ve never asked, and they trust me to help them. It’s one of the reasons I continue to carry a first-aid kit everywhere I go despite no longer being the class medical officer.

Ten minutes later, standing in an auditorium so clean it’s nearly sparkling, I sigh quietly. “Kami, I know you’re resting, and I don’t want to interrupt you, but the auditorium is clean, so we don’t have a reason to be in here anymore. As council members, we aren’t required to attend orientation classes, but if we’re going to be lazy like that, we should at least head outside. Can you make to the benches around the side of the school?”

Sitting up, Kami shakes her head. “I can make it, but it wouldn’t make a good impression to miss the entirety of the orientation classes. We should go; we have the excuse of staying behind to clean, and I probably - hopefully - won’t have to talk much, if at all.” She turns to her siblings. “If you want to wait for us, you can hang in the staff office. They won’t mind and if anyone comments, use my name to gain permission.” She waits for her siblings to nod before turning to head out of the room.

“Yuli,” she says, “I seem to have forgotten. Which classroom are we in this year?” She pauses. “And where’s John?”

“Ah,” I realize I haven’t seen our treasurer since he and I finished handing out the notebooks. John is our quietest member, but he is also the one people typically bring their concerns to. I guess he seems more approachable or something. “I don’t know. He disappeared after we finished handing out notebooks. Is he sleeping somewhere, or do you think he already went to class?”

“I’m here,” a quiet, sleepy voice says behind me. “Took a nap. Sorry. Would’ve helped clean… if woken.” He yawns. “Time for class?”

We turn to see a very sleepy-eyed John standing with rumpled clothing and ruffled hair. “It’s okay,” I say with a smile. “Better nap now than fall asleep during orientation classes. Nothing worse than a reputation as a narcoleptic on the first day of school, you know.”

John shrugs. “Why’s it matter? I am. Doesn’t change anything when they find out. Most already know.”

We all kind of nod, unsure exactly what to say. John has a severe case of chronic narcolepsy, meaning he falls asleep anytime he’s not otherwise occupied… and sometimes even when he is. He has a cot set up in the Student Council room for that exact purpose and the nurse keeps a bed open for him.

With another sigh, I turn to start walking out of the auditorium. Kami keeps pace next to me, with Lakodi following and John shuffling along behind us.

I wonder exactly how this year will turn out…..