The next day, I woke up early, rolling out of bed before dawn. It wasn’t just because I’d gone to sleep unusually early last night—it was mainly because today’s schedule at school was packed.
Since my routine had been off and I’d forgotten to tell Mom, breakfast wasn’t ready. I didn’t plan on eating anyway. After gulping down two sips of hot water, I dashed out the door.
Tonight was the school festival, and all the setup fell to our ten-person committee. We’d agreed to meet at school bright and early.
I wasn’t the first to arrive, but I wasn’t last either. Only two girls and one boy waited at the gathering spot. With me, we finally made up a third of the team. A girl I knew well handed me two slices of bread—she’d clearly guessed we’d skip breakfast.
“Thanks.”
I accepted without ceremony, biting straight into the toast. Then they peppered me with questions about yesterday’s visit to Lanying.
*Sigh*. What was there to say? Though Lanying’s campus was technically in the suburbs, *I*—a visitor from downtown—felt more like a country bumpkin visiting the big city. I casually described Lanying’s sprawling grounds, its stunning greenery, and unique architecture. Even that drew excited murmurs, but they weren’t satisfied.
“And? And? We heard it’s an all-girls school—a gathering place for *real* young ladies. What are the girls like over there?”
The guy asking—burly and seemingly good-natured from our neighboring class—had eyes gleaming with a leer that clashed horribly with his face.
“They’re amazing,” I sighed, telling the truth. “Their student council president greeted me. Stunning. Golden hair, killer figure.”
“Whoa, that’s awesome!” He nudged closer. “Did you two… y’know… *connect* on another level?”
“No!” I shot back, instinctively shifting a step away. For some reason—maybe this brief girl’s psychology at play—I’d grown hypersensitive about physical contact with boys lately. I felt almost… shy, like a real girl would.
Soon, the rest of the team arrived. Same grade, but no one from my own class. We’d done introductions before, but honestly? I only remembered the names of the prettier girls… Not that I’m some pervert—human nature, right? To avoid awkwardness, I pretended I’d forgotten everyone’s name.
“Alright, let’s get started,” I announced. “You two from Class 7 and Class 3—grab the speakers like we planned. You from Class 2, take two others for the stage lights… Yeah, the same spot as last time. You know where the gear is. The remaining three, help set up the stage frame. Everyone else, pitch in where needed. We’ll assign more tasks once this is done.”
Without names to call, I pointed vaguely. They sprang into action immediately. I followed the stage crew—their job was trickier, needing supervision.
Thankfully, our school had pre-made props: stage frames, red drapes, big banners—all stored in the warehouse. Since the stage hadn’t been renovated and we’d used these before, everything fit perfectly. The sound and lighting equipment was also on hand, no need to rent. We’d just hired seniors from the nearby arts academy to handle the tech. It was too critical to risk amateurs, and none of us volunteered.
Beyond that, our little team handled nearly everything ourselves. A warm swell of pride filled me. Though we were just the stage crew—the actual performers were students from grades one and two. I flipped through the program list. Once setup wrapped up, I’d need to contact each act one by one.
*Sigh*. Today’s to-do list felt endless.
