Zuki hummed thoughtfully and then sighed, returning to her burger. “We really need to recruit more members. We have the same taste—which is super cool—but, like, even Generation Love has Ryoko, who raps. We need a variety of talents in our club.”
“I know what you mean,” Millie said, which was only sort of true. It had never occurred to her that some people actually liked hearing different opinions. She was too used to her parents, who basically shared the same brain. “Plus, clubs should have more than two members.”
“Exactly.” Zuki pushed the notebook toward Millie. “You hang on to this until next Thursday. See if you can think of any way to make it better.”
Millie set her burger down and pulled out her own notebook. She broke the pages apart, ready to set the playlist inside, when she spotted her Geography quiz. There it was, in bright red pen: 20%. She quickly flattened the playlist over the quiz and snapped the notebook shut before looking back at Zuki, who was too absorbed in her lunch to notice what had just happened.
Relief trickled through Millie’s bloodstream. She didn’t want Zuki to know how bad she was at school.
She didn’t want to give her a reason not to like her.
“Do you know anyone in journalism? Maybe we could put an ad in the paper? Or film a video for morning announcements? How are you on camera? Do you have a camera?” Zuki asked, one question after the other like she’d stopped bothering with air.
Millie opened her mouth to say she didn’t think being on camera was a good idea—public speaking of any kind was the worst—when Ashley Seo’s voice distracted her.
Zuki must’ve heard it, too, because they both looked over their shoulders at the exact same time.
Ashley’s short hair was wavier than Millie remembered, but their uniform had perfect creases in the pants and they wore the tie option instead of Millie and Zuki’s matching bow ties. In a sea of students who preferred to individualize their uniforms, Ashley looked almost presidential in comparison.
Arms flat at their sides and eyebrows furrowed, they were talking gruffly to Luna, Ruby, and Annabelle.
“None of us care about Rainbow. We’re not even friends with her,” Ruby said in disgust, raising an eyebrow like that should’ve been obvious.
Ashley’s voice was heavy and powerful, like they wanted it to mean something. “Then stop picking on her. She didn’t do anything to you. Any of you.” From Millie’s vantage point, it almost seemed like Ashley was staring straight at Luna when they spoke.
Luna shifted uncomfortably in her chair but didn’t reply.
Annabelle rolled her eyes. “It’s not our fault she always sits by herself.”
“That’s because you chase her out of the cafeteria every time she comes in here,” Ashley bit back.
“We were joking.” Ruby snorted. “Your friend is just massively sensitive.”
“She’s not my friend,” Ashley corrected. “I just don’t like bullies. And you can call it joking all you want, but you literally go out of your way to make her feel bad. So maybe you’re not as funny as you think you are if all your jokes involve picking on someone who can’t stick up for themselves.”
Ruby flinched and looked at Annabelle for backup. They might be mean, but maybe their meanness didn’t extend to people who could potentially fight back.
Luna refused to bring her eyes up, letting her curls hang loosely at her temples like a shield.
“Whatever,” Ashley said before leaving the cafeteria with the kind of calm resilience that even the popular kids couldn’t compete with.
“Geez,” Ruby hissed. “Where did that come from? All I asked was whether our vocab was due and they just started yelling at me.”
“They need to take an anger-management class,” Annabelle scoffed.
Luna tucked her hair behind her ear. Ruby and Annabelle feigned laughter beside her. They were clearly trying their best to recover from Ashley’s words, and even though Luna hadn’t actually said anything herself, it seemed like she was the most rattled of all of them.
It didn’t make sense to feel bad for her, but Millie did anyway.
“Well, I know three people for sure who would never join J-Club,” Zuki remarked with a snort.
Millie started to ask why the three of them were always so mean but changed her mind. Because it didn’t really matter why they were mean. What mattered was that they were hurting people like Rainbow, and aside from Ashley, most of the school seemed okay with letting them get away with it.
It wasn’t right.
“Maybe we should ask Rainbow to eat lunch with us,” Millie offered. “I mean, if she’s really all by herself…”
Zuki shrugged. “Maybe. But I think Rainbow likes being alone. One time in fifth grade, I asked if she wanted to be my partner for an English assignment. She started mumbling something about being sorry and then ran to the bathroom. I didn’t see her until the end of class. Our teacher made me pair up with Daniel Rosewood instead, and Rainbow got to do the assignment all by herself. Which wasn’t fair, because I would’ve totally rather done the assignment alone than with Daniel. All he did was write his name on the paper!” She sighed dramatically. “But, I mean, if we see her around, we could ask her to sit with us. Just don’t be disappointed if she says no.”
“Okay,” Millie agreed, but it didn’t make her feel any better.
Zuki smiled. “You’re really nice. I’m glad because it would’ve been devastating if the only person to show up to the J-Club meetings turned out to be a soggy bag of spinach.”
Millie laughed, and the two of them went back to eating their lunch and talking about new ways to find members for J-Club.
Maybe Zuki was right about Rainbow wanting to be alone, but Millie couldn’t quite get her head around it. She hated being alone and couldn’t imagine anyone else liking it.
Her eyes drifted back toward Ruby, Annabelle, and Luna, who were laughing together like the incident with Ashley had never happened at all.
Millie didn’t understand it. Some people seemed to be able to collect friends like it was the easiest thing in the world, even when they weren’t nice people. But other people—people like Millie and Rainbow—had a hard time finding even one.
It was a problem Millie had no idea how to solve. But she wanted to, just the same.
And maybe with Zuki’s help, she could at least try.
CHAPTER NINE
At the next J-Club meeting, Millie and Zuki sat close together, eyes pinned to the latest Generation Love video. The pastel shades flashed across the screen and the group performed a series of choreographed dance moves. Millie tapped her foot in time to the music, while Zuki imitated some of the choreography with her free hand.
Having a real-life friend to share Generation Love with was a trillion times better than scrolling through online forums.
When the song ended, Zuki sighed dreamily. “I wish I could be in a J-Pop band.”
Millie’s eyes grew with excitement. “Imagine getting to be in a real music video.”
“And the outfits,” Zuki added with emphasis. She turned slightly toward Millie. “Would you want to be the lead like Chiyo?”
Millie hesitated. Chiyo had always been her favorite, but she knew Chiyo was Zuki’s favorite, too. Besides, Millie had never craved the spotlight. In fact, she was usually terrified of it. “I don’t know,” Millie said. “Probably not.”
Zuki nodded like she understood more than Millie did. “You seem more like Miyuki to me. She’s kind of quiet and doesn’t really like doing big solos, but she makes the group feel whole. I mean, it would be no good to have a group with just Chiyos and Ryokos and Hanas. They have such big personalities, you know? There needs to be someone to balance them out.”
Millie bit the inside of her cheek. Zuki wasn’t wrong—Millie didn’t have a big personality. Sometimes she wasn’t even sure she had a little one. But hearing it from someone else made her feel self-conscious.
Zuki grinned, oblivious to the shift on Millie’
s face. “I’d want to be the lead, just like Chiyo. It’s fun being in charge—having the extra responsibility. And also, I mean, everyone always remembers Chiyo.”
Millie didn’t necessarily want to be remembered, but she also didn’t want to be forgotten.
Stop worrying, her mind scolded. Zuki is your friend. She doesn’t mean anything by it!
Millie did her best to brush the feelings away. “You’d definitely make a better leader than me,” she said finally, because it was the truth.
Zuki flicked her thumb over the phone screen, searching for another Generation Love video to watch. “What’s next on our playlist? ‘Hearts on Fire’?”
“I think it was ‘Stranger.’” Millie picked up her binder and flung it open to reveal a notebook. She’d almost reached the page where she’d scribbled her makeshift playlist when Zuki’s voice interrupted her concentration.
“Is that your English essay for Mrs. Devon?” Zuki asked.
Millie followed Zuki’s gaze to the stapled pages behind her notebook, the heading just peeking out in the corner.
Zuki frowned. “You didn’t turn it in?”
“Mrs. Devon never asked us to. I just assumed they weren’t due yet.”
“You have to put your essays in the homework basket,” Zuki said. “You’re supposed to turn everything in at the beginning of class.”
“I—I didn’t know that.” Millie’s voice faltered and heat found her cheeks.
Zuki looked sympathetic. “Hey, don’t worry. It’s just one assignment. And I bet you could tell Mrs. Devon you were confused. She might give you a pass just this once.”
Millie didn’t say anything.
“It … was just this once, right?”
Millie felt her eyes well up and she hated that Zuki—her only friend in the world—was about to realize how completely unequipped Millie was to navigate Brightside Academy.
With a quick breath, she let the words tumble out of her. “I don’t really understand how school works—what the rules are. I feel like everyone else knows what they’re doing, and the teachers don’t really explain things like it’s someone’s first time at school. They talk about stuff like we’re already supposed to know everything, and when they do explain stuff, they do it so fast I can’t always keep up. I’m missing assignments I didn’t even know about, and whenever there’s a test I feel like I have no idea what I’m supposed to be studying…” Millie’s voice trailed off, and she shook her head like she felt too silly to say any more.
Zuki wrinkled her nose like she wasn’t sure how to solve the problem, but she wanted to try. “Did you talk to your parents? Maybe they could call your teachers.”
“They didn’t want me to go to a school in the first place,” Millie admitted. “If I tell them I’m failing, I know they’ll say it was a mistake. They might not let me stay.”
A few seconds passed. Millie genuinely wondered if Zuki had changed her mind about being her friend when suddenly her face lit up.
“Why don’t you just sneak your essay onto Mrs. Devon’s desk? If we do it now, it will look like it got left behind by accident. You’ll still get a grade, and we can worry about the rest of your homework later.” Zuki began packing her backpack in a hurry. “Come on, we still have twenty minutes before the late bus gets here.”
“Won’t we get in trouble?” Millie asked, wide-eyed.
Zuki snorted. “For trying to do the right thing? How could we possibly get in trouble for that?”
Millie wasn’t sure about that, but with her place at Brightside Academy on the line, she decided it was better not to argue.
* * *
Locked. Of course it was locked.
Millie felt her insides shrink and shrink until she was sure they would disappear altogether.
Zuki shook the door handle again and peered into the slender window while Millie’s eyes danced around the hallway in terror. What if a hall monitor saw them? What if they called their parents?
What if they called the police?
Millie’s stomach churned. Clearly, she wasn’t built for rule-breaking.
“The lights are still on, so Mrs. Devon must still be in the school.” Zuki looked over her shoulder at Millie. “Maybe we could slip it under the door?”
“I think we should leave,” Millie whispered nervously, twisting her backpack strap between her fingers. “What if she comes back and sees us here?”
Zuki poked at the glass. “We can’t leave yet! Give me your essay.” She held out a hand expectantly.
Millie bounced on her heels twice before quickly unzipping her bag and sliding out her homework. Before she could argue, Zuki snatched it from her grip and knelt to the floor. In a few clumsy motions, she tried and failed to stuff the pages beneath the door, crumpling the edges in the process.
“Almost there,” Zuki hissed, though Millie could plainly see she was nowhere near almost there.
Millie curled her hands into fists. “It’s not going to work. Let’s just go before we get into trouble.”
Zuki’s voice was strained. “I’m so close. I just need to twist it so—”
“What are you two doing?” The low, clipped voice made Millie practically jump out of her skin. Even Zuki shot to her feet with military precision.
Ashley Seo was watching the two of them carefully, arms folded across their chest.
Millie opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Zuki not-so-subtly moved the essay behind her back.
Ashley lifted a brow. “I didn’t peg you for the breaking-and-entering types.”
Zuki rolled her eyes. “We’re not trying to break in.” Accepting defeat, she let her arms fall to her sides. “We just need to put this essay on Mrs. Devon’s desk. Millie was confused about when it was due, and if she fails her class, she won’t be allowed to come back to J-Club. And I can’t let that happen. She’s the vice president—I need her!”
The words stung. Zuki was making it sound like her main concern was J-Club, not Millie.
Millie knew with absolute certainty that she’d still want to be Zuki’s friend, even without J-Club. But would Zuki feel the same?
She hoped so. Priorities aside, Zuki was still risking a lot to help her. That had to mean something.
Millie didn’t want Zuki to get into trouble on her account, so she gathered up her courage and turned toward Ashley. “It wasn’t Zuki’s fault. It was mine. If you’re going to tell on us, you can just blame me.” Millie looked at Zuki apologetically. “My parents would’ve eventually found out about my grades, anyway. But thanks for trying.”
Ashley frowned, their voice turning gruff. “What makes you think I’m going to tell anyone?”
Millie and Zuki exchanged glances.
Ashley was self-assured, mature, and never seemed to care what anyone thought. It wasn’t normal for an eleven-year-old to be so confident. Or at least, it wasn’t normal to Millie.
But Ashley wasn’t known for being a tattletale, and they’d stood up for Rainbow in the cafeteria.
So maybe Millie had made the wrong assumption.
“Well, if you aren’t going to tell on us, at least stand watch by the door,” Zuki blurted out, severing the awkward silence. “I only need another few seconds.” She had started to kneel back down when Ashley’s voice cut in.
“That’s never going to fit.”
Zuki shot them a glare. “Do you have a better idea?”
Ashley stood silently for a moment and then motioned their head to the side. “Actually, I do. Follow me.”
CHAPTER TEN
Ashley led them down the hall and around the corner to another row of classrooms. Millie was pretty sure it was one of the seventh-grade halls she’d gotten lost in on the first day of school.
When Ashley stopped in front of one of the doors and grabbed the handle, Millie’s breath hitched. She couldn’t help it; they weren’t supposed to be wandering around the school unsupervised, and they definitely weren’t supposed to be sneaking into random classrooms.
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But Ashley didn’t seem to care about getting into trouble. They simply pulled the door open and walked inside. After a short pause, Millie and Zuki walked in after them.
Zuki peered around the vacant room, her brow set in deep concentration like she was trying to solve a mystery. “Are you in detention? Is that why you’re hanging around an empty classroom after school? Rosie McDonald from orchestra—she plays cello—had detention for a whole week last year because she wouldn’t stop talking in class. But she said her teacher just gave her a homework packet that was full of crossword puzzles. I like crossword puzzles. Did you get a crossword puzzle? Do you get detention a lot?”
Ashley blinked. “First of all, it’s called detention, not solitary confinement.”
Zuki moved her hands around impatiently. “And second of all…?”
Ashley sighed. “Doesn’t matter. It’s not worth explaining.” They moved across the room, just out of earshot of Millie and Zuki.
“They didn’t answer my question about detention,” Zuki whispered.
“I think there’d be a teacher here if it was detention,” Millie whispered back.
“Maybe they had to go to the bathroom?”
“Should we leave before we get caught?”
“Come on,” Ashley interrupted. “I don’t have all day.”
Millie looked up and saw Ashley standing in front of a shared closet that doubled as a corridor to another classroom. The three of them stepped inside, and when they emerged through the other door, they were standing in Mrs. Devon’s room.
“Cool trick,” Zuki mused, clearly entertained by their brief moment of rebellion. “I feel like I’m in a heist movie. It’s kind of exciting, isn’t it? It feels like … like a glowing orange marmalade!”
Ashley frowned. “A what?”
“The mood,” Zuki replied simply. “It’s a mix of terror and exhilaration.”
“But why—” Ashley started, but shook their head. “Never mind. I don’t want to know.”
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