That's when Kieran noticed it. He squinted, leaned slightly across the table, and frowned.
"Wait a second... that's not our school uniform."
Annie blinked mid-sip. "What?"
This made the other 3 boys in the group think, 'Is this guy stupid?' We go to an all-boys school, and he says that's not our uniform??? Not shit.
He pointed at the dark blazer she'd hung on the seat beside her. "Your crest. "That's from the all-girls school down the road, right?"
Tanaka choked on his fries. "The High? The all-girls school from down the road?"
Annie tilted her head, suspicious. "Yes…?"
Brock raised an eyebrow. "I thought that place was basically a fortress. No boys. No visitors. No joy."
Tanaka, ignoring Brock completely, leaned in like he was uncovering treasure. "So do you have any cute friends?"
"Wow," Roy muttered, deadpan. "You didn't even pretend to ease into that."
Kieran, ever the diplomat, tried to soften the moment. "What he means is – what's it like over there? "I've heard."
"Rumours?" Annie arched a brow.
Roy: "Everyone assumes it's either a secret training ground for noble daughters or a drama club where everyone falls in love with each other."
Annie just blinked. "Yes."
A beat.
Then: "Wait, what?"
She shrugged, grabbing another fry from Kieran's tray like she'd been invited. "I'm not saying anything official. But let's just say the fencing club is way more intense than it needs to be, and you should never trust a girl who says she's 'just practicing violin alone after class.'
Tanaka looked like he'd just been handed the plot to the greatest romantic spy novel of all time. "That's incredible. So wait—do they make you do etiquette drills? Like, how to drink tea with dignity and deliver a death glare at the same time?"
"Yes", Annie said, completely serious.
"Do they train you in fan combat?"
"That's a myth."
"Damn it."
Kieran looked amused now. "So why were you out here, then? The Highi girls don't usually come to this side of town."
Annie suddenly found her milkshake very interesting. "I was... skipping. Needed air. Stuff was getting messy. Then I ran into him." She nodded vaguely toward the door, where the boy from earlier had fled.
"Ex-boyfriend?" Tanaka asked gently.
Annie didn't answer for a moment.
"Sort of. It wasn't official. It was complicated. You know."
They all did. No one pressed further.
"Still", she added, voice lighter now, "it's funny. The High keeps us locked up like precious jewels, but half the girls are dying to escape. I just beat them to it."
Roy watched her carefully. "So what now?"
Annie looked up.
He wasn't asking in a dramatic way — just... curious. A simple question with weight behind it.
She gave a small shrug. "I sit in a weird booth with even weirder boys and eat other people's fries."
Tanaka lifted his milkshake. "To escaping!"
Kieran: "To poor decisions that somehow work out."
Brock raised his drink last. "To strangers who stay."
Roy didn't lift his cup. Just looked at Annie for a beat longer, then gave the smallest of nods — approval, maybe. Maybe just understanding.
Annie lifted her drink anyway. "Cheers, weirdos."
They clinked their drinks — or tried to. A few lids popped. A couple of fries hit the table. It was a mess.
But somehow, it felt right.
The toast ended in an uneven chorus of slurps and straw gurgles. For a moment, they were just five kids in a booth too small for their personalities, basking in the afterglow of too much salt and not enough life planning.
Then Tanaka leaned forward, elbows on the table, steepling his hands like he was about to propose something illegal.
"Okay. But seriously now," he said, eyes locked on Annie. "Do you have any cute friends?"
Annie didn't blink. "Define cute."
"Dangerous", he replied without hesitation. "Sharp-tongued. Maybe a little unhinged. But secretly lonely and open to emotionally unavailable boys who look like they haven't slept in days."
Kieran: "So… you're looking for your clone but in skirt format."
Tanaka nodded solemnly. "Exactly."
Annie smirked. "I have one friend who collects switchblades and writes poetry about birds dying in winter. Does that count?"
Tanaka's eyes lit up like someone had just handed him a live grenade and told him it was a love letter. "I'm listening."
Roy tilted his cup and watched the last of the soda swirl. "You know you just described someone who's either going to date you or murder you, right?"
Tanaka pointed a fry at him. "Sometimes it's the same thing. That's the thrill."
Annie crossed her arms, clearly enjoying this. "I could introduce you. But it'd cost you."
"What's the price?" Tanaka asked, suspicious.
"You go to her next poetry reading."
"...Is it long?"
"Twice the length of your attention span."
Kieran snorted. "He'll die halfway through."
Annie grinned. "Good. She likes broken things."
Tanaka placed a hand dramatically over his heart. "Then I'm her magnum opus."
They all groaned.
Brock, wiping fry grease off his hands, finally spoke again. "I don't get how any of this turned into matchmaking." "Weren't we talking about the tournament?"
Roy: "We were. Then life happened. Now we're trying to set Tanaka up with a poet assassin."
"Correction," Tanaka cut in, raising a finger. "A poet goddess. 'Potentially murderous, emotionally haunted, but undeniably radiant.'"
Annie tilted her head. "You might actually be her type."
Kieran leaned back, watching the chaos like it was a familiar sitcom. "You realise if this ends in a restraining order, we're all accessories."
Tanaka turned to Roy. "Would you testify in court for me?"
Roy didn't even look up. "No. I'd write your eulogy, though. Short. Honest. 'He died as he lived — deluded and underqualified for love.'
Annie laughed, really laughed, and it startled even her. She clapped a hand over her mouth, cheeks pink.
"You guys are—" she started, then shook her head, as if the words wouldn't come.
She settled back into the booth, sighing through her smile. "—so freaking weird."
Roy looked at her, a little sideways. "You stayed, though."
She nodded. "Guess I'm weird too."
Tanaka raised his cup again. "To freaks."
Everyone clinked again, even if it was half-hearted and lazy this time.
The night rolled on. More dumb questions. More half-truths. Talk of the tournament returned in fragments — who might enter, what the capital scouts were like, and how much the world was starting to shift under their feet.
But for a little while, none of that mattered.
There was a booth. There was laughter. There was the aftertaste of greasy food and the sense — however fragile — that they weren't alone.
Not tonight.
Eventually, the trays were empty, the wrappers balled up, and the mood mellowed to that quiet, sleepy kind of peace that settles in when you're too full to keep being stupid.
Kieran yawned into his fist. "We should head out. School starts again tomorrow, unfortunately."
Tanaka stretched like a cat, joints cracking, then turned to Annie. "Hey… before we vanish into the darkness like misunderstood protagonists — can I get your number?"
Annie raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"
"Not for anything weird!" he blurted, hands up like he was under arrest. "It's about your friend. The poetess. I need guidance. Lore. Favourite bird metaphors. I don't want to mess this up."
She stared at him for a second too long, as if trying to gauge whether he was for real.
Apparently, he passed the vibe check.
With a small sigh, she grabbed a napkin, scribbled her number with a ketchup-smudged pen, and slid it across the table. "If you start texting me memes, I'm blocking you."
Tanaka took it like it was sacred parchment. "Understood. This is the beginning of something beautiful."
"Or a crime scene," Brock muttered.
They all stood, shuffling out of the booth. The seat cushions gave one last squeak of protest.
Kieran adjusted his jacket. "Are you going to be okay getting home?"
Annie nodded, already halfway through the door. "Yeah. I'm a big girl. My school's dorm is ten minutes that way."
Roy held the door for the others. "Guess we're going the opposite way."
Annie paused just outside, under the flickering "Fry Shack" sign.
The boys clustered together, slightly awkward, like they were saying goodbye to someone they didn't mean to care about yet.
"Night, Toler," Kieran said with a short wave.
Brock raised two fingers. "Later."
Tanaka called, "I'll let you know if she writes a poem about me."
Annie snorted. "God help us all if she does."
Roy was the last to turn. "Don't get attached, huh?"
Annie smiled faintly. "Too late."
They started walking. One by one, the shadows of the boys disappeared down the sidewalk, laughter trailing behind them like a ribbon unravelling into the dark.
Annie stood for a second longer, hands stuffed into her jacket pockets, staring after them. Then she turned the other way and walked off into the night, alone — but somehow less alone than before.
And for once, nobody looked back.
But they all remembered.