What's Wrong With Us?

The clouds gathered, turning the blue sky into a charcoal smear. In the cafeteria, the soft pitter-patter of rain tapped against the windows, drawing students' eyes to the storm spilling from the trees outside.

It was noon—lunchtime for everyone but the elementary kids. The halls buzzed as Class 2.0 poured out, relieved yet fidgety after enduring the day's most mind-numbing subject.

Kamaria emerged from the classroom looking visibly irritated—not by the early dismissal, but by her sworn enemy: general math. Next to her strolled Basilio, her seatmate and accidental confidant for the past week.

Their bond was fresh, still forming, and though she warmed to her, Ria kept her guard up. She had a reputation to maintain, after all.

The cafeteria hummed with chatter as they stepped inside, settling at a window-side table. Still, even among the noise and bustle, a subtle tension clung to them—the kind born from watchful eyes and silent whispers.

“Ria, I’m hitting the stalls for food. You coming?” Basilio asked, already halfway out of her chair.

“I’m good. Still full,” Ria waved her off. “Just grab me some yogurt or something, thanks.”

As Basilio browsed the lunch stalls, she accidentally bumped into Mackenzie and Archer, both deep in food-hunting mode.

“Ah, shit—sorry, I didn’t see—oh. Basilio? Hey!” Arch blinked. “We’re just grabbing lunch... Right, Mickey?”

Macky looked up from her math notes, brows furrowed, foot tapping, clearly still stuck on a problem.

“Mickey?” Basilio echoed, one brow arching, lips twitching with restrained laughter. She assumed Arch was teasing again—maybe Macky reminded him of an animated mouse.

“Yeah, Mickey. My nickname for her,” Archer said with a grin. "Macky-Mickey. Plus, she kinda looks like a naked mole rat.”

Macky’s eyes locked onto him like heat-seeking missiles. The math headache, the rain, this guy—it was all too much. Her fuse was officially lit.

“Don’t fuck with me right now, Archie,” she snapped, her voice cutting clean through the cafeteria noise.

Arch’s grin vanished. Panic flickered in his eyes. He knew better. Macky never talked about her anger, but it was there—coiled and heavy.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” he said quickly, gently pulling her math book from her grip. “Let me take this for a sec. I’ll walk you through it later. For now—just eat.”

“Fine... What’s on the menu today?”

Arch scanned the counters and bright signage. “Looks like Southeast Asian food. Ooh, I see Adobo.”

“For real?!” Macky and Basilio blurted at once, their faces lighting up like kids on Christmas. They hadn’t had Filipino food all week, and the craving hit like a truck.

“Did I lie? Did I fucking lie?” Arch said smugly, gesturing to the glowing digital menu board across the room.

“Girl, shut up,” Macky said with a dramatic eye roll. “I’m getting Adobo and Bicol Express with rice. You?”

Basilio studied the options, tempted by her usual favorite—Sisig—but something else called to her. “Green Curry and rice for me,” she said with a nod.

“Beef Rendang and Khao Piak Sen,” Arch added, eyes glinting as he mentally stacked his plate.

The trio joined the growing lunch queue, grabbing trays as the scent of spices drifted through the air. Once their meals were loaded, they navigated the crowd back to their table, where Ria sat waiting, her fingers drumming on the surface.