What's Wrong With Us?

Outside the Dean’s office, sunlight filtered through the forest, bathing the leaves in a radiant green glow. A breeze whispered through the trees, weaving a melody of rustling branches and the hum of bees. The light poured into the office, casting a golden hue over Mackenzie’s uniform. Her white blouse and dark green blazer looked freshly pressed, but the sun revealed the faded color of her maxi skirt. Even her polished shoes, marked with scuffs, a subtle grunge edge to her otherwise immaculate look.

Macky’s brown eyes narrowed into a glare, fixed on Kiefer. He sat beside her, shoulders trembling with suppressed laughter. Despite the bruises and scratches hidden beneath hastily applied bandages, she leaned over and pinched his arm, fast and sharp.

He squirmed, biting his lip to stifle a yelp.

Mr. Robert’s gaze flicked toward Kief, fingers tapping his chin with suspicion. Catching the Dean’s eye, Kief straightened up with performative innocence, running a hand through his mess of hair like he hadn’t just been giggling at a disciplinary meeting.

“So you’re telling me this fight started because one of the transferees called you a... dyke?” Mr. Robert’s tone was calm, but it carried the weight of disappointment.

“Well... in my defense, I didn’t throw the first punch,” Macky muttered. Her voice was low, steady. She bit her lip, casting a sideways glance at Kief—a silent threat burning in her eyes: help me or die trying.

“Uh, yeah,” Kief jumped in. “So a boy stood up for Macky, called the transferee out, but then the newbie shoved him outta nowhere. Basilio stepped in, pushed the newbie back, and then—BOOM! Total chaos.”

At Kief’s dramatic “BOOM!”, both Mr. Robert and Macky flinched. The echo of it seemed to rattle the air—until her palm smacked across his cheek.

“Ow!”

“Ms. Gauthier!” Mr. Robert’s voice cracked as he slammed his palms on the desk. Even he seemed startled by the force of it, but he was done playing referee.

“...Sorry,” Macky muttered, eyes on her lap. “We tried to stop it, but then the new girl straight-up lunged at me screaming, ‘He’s mine!’ and I just—”

“I don’t even know her...” Kief lied, rubbing his cheek with exaggerated innocence.

Of course he did. She’d been orbiting him for weeks, one of many dazzled by his charm—and his father's last name. But there was no way he was dragging that into this room.

Macky’s eyes narrowed. She caught the twitch in his voice, the slight shift in his posture. His words were too rehearsed. Too careful.

Mr. Robert leaned back in his chair, nodding slowly, eyes sharp. “Alright. Understandable... but you're both still responsible. Two weeks of community service.”

“What about the others?” Macky shot back, voice sharp. “Especially the newbie?”

“They’ll serve one week. But as the instigators, you two are getting double.”

“What—” Macky started, but Kief placed a hand on her arm, fingers squeezing gently in warning.

“Copy, Mr. Robert,” he said smoothly, flashing her a look that said: Let it go.

Macky exhaled hard through her nose. She knew exactly what he was doing—damage control. But it didn’t make the punishment feel any less rigged.

“Well then,” Mr. Robert said, already pulling another file from the stack on his desk. “You’re both dismissed.”

As they left the Dean’s office, Macky gave Kief a playful shove. He staggered a bit, then laughed, straightening his uniform with an exaggerated flourish.