CHAPTER 43: THANKS FOR THE SAVE

The classroom door slid open, and Ms. Lail, our geography teacher, walked in. She was young, probably not even 30, with this sharp bob haircut and glasses that made her look like she could be in a hipster coffee shop or a lecture hall and fit right in either way.

Usually, she’d breeze in, drop her bag, and start scribbling on the board before anyone could blink. But today? She froze mid-step, her eyes locking onto me like I’d just teleported into the room.

I shifted in my seat, my palms already getting sweaty. ’Ah crap, here we go,’ I thought, my brain flashing a big red BOSS ENCOUNTER warning. Everyone was still sneaking glances at me, and now Ms. Lail was joining the stare party. My new haircut was turning me into some kind of zoo exhibit.

"Kofi?" she said, her voice a mix of confusion and curiosity. She adjusted her glasses, leaning forward slightly. "Is that you?"

The class went quiet again, all eyes bouncing between me and her. My face was probably glowing like a lava lamp. "Uh, yeah, it’s me," I mumbled, trying to sound normal and not like I was about to bolt out the window.

She tilted her head, a small smile creeping onto her face. "Well, look at you! I almost didn’t recognize you. Did you decide to reinvent yourself or something?"

A few kids snickered, and I caught Nina’s grin from across the room. She was leaning back in her chair, arms crossed, clearly enjoying this way too much.

’Great,’ I thought, ’even the teacher’s in on it now. I’m doomed.’

"Nah, just got a haircut," I said, shrugging and hoping that would be the end of it. My ribs twinged from the movement, reminding me I was still a walking bruise under the new look.

Ms. Lail wasn’t letting it go that easy. She walked over to her desk, set her bag down, and kept her eyes on me like I was a map she was trying to memorize. "A haircut? That’s not just a haircut, Kofi. That’s a full-on transformation. What’s the occasion? New girlfriend? Big life change?"

The class erupted into a mix of gasps and giggles. Someone in the back whispered, "No way, him?" and I wanted to melt into my chair. My hands gripped the edges of my desk, and I shot a quick glance at Nina, who was biting her lip to keep from laughing out loud.

’Traitor,’ I thought, but her eyes were sparkling with that teasing look that made my stomach do a flip.

"No girlfriend," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. "Just, uh, got tired of looking like I just rolled out of a dungeon crawler."

The class burst out laughing, and even Ms. Lail chuckled, shaking her head. "Dungeon crawler? I don’t know what that is but I’ll give you points for creativity. But seriously, you look like you’re ready to star in some teen drama now."

I just gave a small smile and hoped she’d move on. The attention was making my skin crawl, but the laughter felt... kind of nice? Like, maybe I wasn’t just the quiet kid anymore.

Ms. Lail finally turned to the board, scribbling something about tectonic plates, but she kept sneaking glances at me. "Alright, settle down, everyone. Kofi’s glow-up isn’t on the syllabus, so let’s focus on earthquakes for now."

The class laughed again, and I sank lower in my seat, my face still burning. Nina caught my eye and mouthed, "You’re famous," with a dramatic wink. I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t stop the corner of my mouth from twitching up.

’This is going to be a long day.’

Lunch hit like a truck, I was so wiped out. Every teacher today had something to say about my haircut, like I’d walked in with a neon sign on my head. "Kofi, new look, huh?" "Kofi, did you join a boy band?"

It was relentless, and I was so over it. Now, sprawled face-down at my desk, I just wanted to disappear for the next thirty minutes.

A murmur of voices pulled me out of my haze. I cracked one eye open, catching Nina’s blonde hair across the room. She was at her desk, surrounded by Selma and Becky, the self-appointed queens of our class.

They were leaning in, all fake smiles and syrupy voices, their words dripping with that calculated charm that screams ’trap’. I’d seen this play before—classic mean-girl move. They were trying to reel Nina back into their clique, probably to save face after she’d started hanging with me, the nobody.

If she brushed them off, they’d spin it to make her look like the bad guy. High school politics at its finest.

I propped myself up.

Nina was holding her own, her smile tight but polite, tossing out vague answers like "Oh, you know, just busy." But I could see her shoulders tensing, her fingers twisting the edge of her sleeve. She was cornered, and they knew it.

Selma’s laugh was too loud, Becky’s head tilt too perfect. They were sharks circling, waiting for her to slip.

’She’s got this,’ I told myself, gripping my pencil a little too hard. ’She doesn’t need me playing hero again.’ But the longer I watched, the more it gnawed at me. Nina’s eyes flicked toward me for a split second, and I caught it—her eyes screamed ’help’. Or maybe I was imagining it.

Either way, my gut was screaming that if I sat here any longer, this was gonna spiral into a mess she couldn’t climb out of.

I pushed my chair back, the scrape loud enough to make a few heads turn. My gut was churning as I limped toward her desk.

Their fake laughs grated on my ears.

"Yo, Nina," I said, my voice louder than I meant, cutting through Selma’s sugary babble. "Ready for lunch?"

Selma and Becky froze, their heads snapping toward me like I’d just farted in church. Selma’s eyes narrowed, her glossy lips twitching. Becky crossed her arms, tilting her head with that ’who even are you?’ vibe.

Nina’s shoulders relaxed a fraction, and she shot me a small, grateful smile.

"Uh, we’re kind of in the middle of something," Selma said, her voice all fake-sweet, like she was talking to a toddler.

I didn’t flinch, just kept my eyes on Nina. "I’m talking to Nina, not you," I said, calm but firm.

Becky let out a sharp laugh, tossing her hair. "Wow, rude much?"

Nina stood up, grabbing her bag, her smile widening. "Yeah, I’m starving. Let’s go, Kofi." She brushed past them, not even glancing back, and I fell into step beside her, ignoring the death stares boring into my back.

As we hit the hallway, Nina bumped my shoulder lightly. "Thanks for the save," she muttered, her voice low. "They were trying to guilt me into some party I don’t even want to go to."

"Anytime," I said, my chest loosening a bit. "They looked like they were auditioning for Mean Girls 2."

She snorted, covering her mouth. "Oh my god, stop. Selma would totally be Regina George."

We headed toward the cafeteria, just lost in our goofy talks.