"I've been staring at the edge of the water. Long as I can remember, never really knowing why

I wish I could be the perfect daughter. But I come back to the water, no matter how hard I try"

[Song: "How Far I'll Go"  - Auli'i Cravalho from Moana]

RECAP:

Operation That Was a Mistake ended as elegantly as someone ice skating for the first time.

Raymond being the type to hold a grudge tries to pick a fight with Declan in school. But after setting up a fight in the parking lot afterschool, Adrian punched Declan starting a group fight. The fight ended with Naomi spraying water from a fire extinguisher at them before the principal found the mess.

Also, Bennett and Naomi are not exactly on speaking terms after Bennett created an entire report without telling Naomi. But things will get better, right?

Right?

~

Roll call.

Marco scratched his head, shaking the excess water off his hair. Doing that, the ice pack fell off his lap and onto the ground. After a muttered curse, he picked it back up and placed it on his right side. He slumped in his seat, holding another pack for the bruise under his left eye.

Bennett sat forward with his elbows on his lap. His head leaned against his propped up left hand that held an ice pack for the bruise at the corner of his eye. Absentmindedly, his fingers traced the right of his face and he flinched when it hit the scrape at the corner of his bottom lip.

Raul winced and slightly lifted the ice pack for the bruise at the corner of his right eye. After pulling out the tissue used to plug up his bloody nose, he lifted the collar of his damp shirt and wiped the dried remnants off. He hesitantly poked his side and tsked at the pain before moving the ice pack there.

Jordan leaned back in his chair with his legs stretched in an attempt to dry out his clothes. Donning a small tissue plugging up his right nostril, he held up an ice pack for the bruise that was forming under his left eye and the grazes at the side of his cheek. After a moment, he balanced the ice pack on top of his eyes like a sleep eye mask and let out a tired sigh.

Aiden- I thought I had it. Adrian, I mean, let out a sneeze. He sniffled, looking back down at his wet clothes in dismay. After a sigh, he moved the ice pack from the left corner of his mouth to the other side of his face for the bruise and scrape under his eye.

With a curse under his breath, Raymond took the melted ice pack off the bruises on his face and placed it on top of his varsity jacket on his lap, too wet to still be wearing. He scowled as he looked down at the grazes on his knuckles then decided to use the ice pack for them.

Despite the bruises under his right eye and the bandages that hid the scrapes at the corner of his mouth to cheek, Declan ignored nursing them with an ice pack. Instead, his shirt, wet and clinging to his chest, was slightly lifted as he held an ice pack against his right side.

With a tissue plugged up for a bloody nose, Samuel flipped the ice pack in an attempt to have a colder side nurse the bruise at the corner of his right eye. He shuffled in his seat, repositioning the ice pack on his crotch after someone had kicked him there.

Then there was me.

I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, revealing the absence of any injuries on my face as well as my glasses given someone broke them. Even though I participated in the fight, the only pain I felt was from the yanks of my hair and the lingering sting on my side that I decided to not use an ice pack. I knew that because of the school's underfunding, we didn't have a lot of ice packs in stock. Aside from that, I was in the complete opposite state of the others: clean, dry, and unscathed. It was as if I was the answer to the game "one of these things is not like the other".

I glanced at either side of the row of chairs with all members of the fight. There was a noticeable trail of water tracked from the bottom of our shoes from the door up to our row of chairs. The only sounds filling the main office were the light drips of water falling off our clothes or backpacks, muttered curses, or stifled winces. However, such sounds fell into the background by the clicks of heels.

Principal Jessica Larsson walked towards us with her signature clicks of her high heels alerting us of her presence. Following right behind her was Vice-Principal James Kaminski. There wasn't anything remarkable about the two people who hold authority over a school. Nothing good, nothing bad, nothing. It was the same story after all: a school with high diversity, average test ranking, and low income level is headed by two white people who matched the student body perfectly.

Principal Larsson stood in front of all of us, folding her arms across her chest. She looked at all of us for what felt like a long time as if she was attempting to memorize all of us down to the bruise. The vice-principal shortly followed suit, narrowing his eyes at us.

"Who hit first?" Her tone was low and accusing.

No one spoke. They either looked down or away, but not at the principal. Apparently, snitches get stitches.

"I would advise you to speak up now," she told us.

"Yes, you should just confess," the vice-principal agreed.

Principal Larsson exhaled. "It would make the entire situation much easier for all of us."

"Very much easier," VP Kaminski affirmed.

"James, please," the principal said, tossing him a look.

The vice-principal simply nodded understanding his hype-man position wasn't necessary here.

"Alright then," Principal Larsson mused. "Since you're all so noble in not even pointing the blame, you can all face an even harsher punishment together."

Raymond let out a sigh then stated dryly, "Whoever made the first hit should man up or else they'll face something worse."

The principal arched an eyebrow. "Was that a threat, Mr. Myers?"

"I prefer calling it moral support to motivate a fellow student," Raymond replied with a half-hearted shrug.

There was a pause, a painful pause. "I started it," Adrian muttered, clutching the ice pack in his hands.

The principal's eyes honed in on the student. "And who did you hit?"

"Me," Declan grumbled out. "And I returned the favor."

Principal Larsson scoffed to herself. "I'm pleased to see that you decided to take the high road seeing that I had someone who could confirm everything anyway."

Did someone watch the whole fight? I didn't see anyone when I ran off to find a fire extinguisher. Then again, maybe I didn't have enough spatial awareness to realize that. Everyone glanced around, trying to see who this mystery student was, expecting them to walk in with confetti and applause.

Principal Larsson looked at me. "Ms. Lorraine, although you had unauthorized use of a fire extinguisher, I'm glad to see that you were able to stop the fight without injuring yourself or anyone else."

I stared at her, speechless.

Raymond put his face in one hand, failing to stifle the chuckles escaping him. "You've gotta be kidding-"

She let out a tired sigh, shaking her head. "I don't even want to imagine the thought of them dragging you into their fight. I would not stand to see a man hit a defenseless woman, not in my school."

Vice Principal Kaminski nodded his head in agreement. "We expect only bright and respectful students to be produced in this school."

I can't believe it. I'm getting away with this because of... internalized misogyny?

I glanced at the others, but they all looked away, not wanting to catch my eye. I looked at Raymond who glared at his ice pack and didn't bring up the same level of disbelief as before. Looking at the others, even the transfers avoided my gaze.

I participated in the fight. I knew the consequences of my actions the moment I fought Samuel to let go of Declan and I stand by it. Even though I have the chance to get away with this doesn't mean I should. It isn't a matter of self-preservation but fairness.

I gulped, clenching my fists tightly then began, "Principal Larsson I-"

"I think Naomi walked in during the middle of our fight," Declan cut in. "She wouldn't have been able to see who started it."

"I was too busy fighting to notice anyone," Raymond said.

When Raymond and Declan shared a look, trading glares, Raymond finished, "but she wasn't there when we started fighting."

The two captains of either side of the fight have made the silent agreement. They agreed to the delusion that they didn't drag a girl into a fight so their punishment won't be any worse under the scrutiny of a feminist principal.

"However, I see that your glasses were broken," the principal observed, giving me a pointed look at the broken glasses on my lap. "Who did that, Ms. Lorraine?"

I shook my head, staring down at my glasses. "It was from my initial attempt to stop the fight," I lied. "I thought I could stop them, but I couldn't. Somehow, my glasses fell and broke from that."

Principal Larsson massaged her forehead. "You'll still receive punishment for using the fire extinguisher. This is your final year in high school. You should know it should only be for emergencies. I just wish you went to find a staff member instead."

"They were beating up each other badly," I explained. "I was worried about what I was going to find when I came back with a teacher. I knew I was going to get in trouble for using the fire extinguisher," I said firmly.

The vice-principal huffed, looking at me sternly. "That is not a-"

"I understand the reasoning behind your actions," the principal told me. "Although it wasn't the choice we particularly like, it still accomplished your main goal of ending the fight as quickly as possible."

"Yes, it was very reasonable," VP Kaminski said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Not exactly wise, but it was reasonable given the quick judgment. And we were due for a fire inspection so at least we know the fire extinguisher worked."

"Although we still need to pay for the replacement of said fire extinguisher," the principal added.

I stiffened at the word "pay". Did I save enough Christmas and birthday money to pay for the replacement myself without my parents? Then the gravity of my current situation hit me.

I was going to be punished for this. My parents are going to know about it. No worse, colleges are going to know about this. My spotless record was now going to be stained by one phrase: "unauthorized use of a fire extinguisher". Goodbye career plans. It was a great couple of years planning it out.

I dedicated years to perfecting my school record, my resume, leading up to my college applications. Perfect grades. Volunteer work. Upstanding behavior. And it was all ruined in my final year, two months before college applications are due in November. After I met the transfers. After I decided to defend them.

"Hey, you ok?" Jordan asked quietly, placing a hand on my shoulder and making me snap out of my head.

I looked at him, seeing the startling blue bruise under his eye that contrasted against his light skin. It was a strange comfort that I wasn't the only one facing the same situation. I managed to give him a wry smile in response.

"We want to lay out our cards on the table," the vice-principal began.

His response was met with silence. The vice-principal didn't seem like has going to continue until he received a response. Raymond obliged him by asking slowly, "What cards?"

He paused to look at the principal who nodded, signaling for him to continue. "In the two years that we have been in charge of your school since the retirement of the former principal and vice-principal, we haven't had an incident with this many students to this degree."

The vice-principal pulled on his collar in an attempt to free himself of the discomfort. "And seeing that several of you are senior students yourselves, you may agree with our belief that records should remain... spotless."

Are they saying what I think they're saying?

Jordan muttered a curse under his breath, something about sacred excrement.

That confirmed that they are indeed saying what I think they're saying.

"We will of course be discussing this with your parents," VP Kaminski explained. "And if everyone happens to agree, you all will still be disciplined for your actions but no records will show this incident ever occurred."

We all sat there in silence while the principal and vice-principal stood there in silence. The vice-principal cleared his throat and informed us, "We have notified your parents and they will be coming in to discuss this with us. To contain the situation, you won't be returning to your classes and will remain in the office."

The two of them stood there perhaps expecting us to somehow respond to his so-called "cards". When it was clear we weren't going to respond, the principal turned to go back to her office with the vice principal following close behind her.

When the office door shut closed, the silence was broken.

"I don't know if my parents will take the deal," Raul muttered. "You think they will? It's a win-win for everyone, right?"

"I think I just lost my hearing too," Jordan muttered. "What the hell just happened?"

"I don't think this is the first time they did this kind of thing," Marco told Adrian. "In my junior year, something happened with a couple of senior athletes in the locker room but..."

Sitting next to me, Raymond gave me a sideways glance before staring straight ahead. "Enjoying your freedom as an innocent bystander, Lorraine?"

"I should've thrown the fire extinguisher at you instead," I grumbled, refusing to look at him. "Preferably in the face so I wouldn't have to hear you talk."

Raymond snorted to himself. "That would have been fun to see. The heaviest thing you probably ever carried is a textbook. That and your ego."

"You've mistaken it for your ego," I corrected. "You probably meant my intelligence instead."

"Right," Raymond stretched, rolling his eyes. "Are you talking about the same intelligence when you tried to fess up that you actually took part in the fight?"

I turned to glare at him. "I'm sorry, Raymond. It was rude of me to assume you know what intelligence even is. As well as morals, pride, and loyalty."

He raised an eyebrow. "I think you got way into that musketeer book."

"Are you talking about the same book that you ripped in half, you book murderer?"

Now he was looking at me, smirking as he did. "I'll tear up a whole library if it meant I can see you make the same face when I tore that stupid book."

"I hope you mean the face when I'm about to murder your low-reading level, dim-witted, arrogant-"

I moved forward so I can find a way to wipe the stupid smirk off his face, but Jordan suddenly grabbed the back of my shirt then had an arm held up in front of my waist to stop me.

"Hey, hey, hey," Jordan said urgently, "Let's all just calm down and maybe divide up the party lines a bit better," he offered.

With all of us lined up in a row of chairs, Raymond and I were sitting next to each other. We all awkwardly scooted our chairs to increase the distance between me and Raymond. The two of us glared daggers at each other as we scooted our chairs away.

"Teacher's pet," Raymond tossed in.

"Drop out," I threw back.

"We already fought, alright?" Samuel said in exasperation. "Unless you want to cut another deal, we should just stop it."

"This fight never would've happened in the first place if someone didn't start it," Declan grumbled.

Adrian glared at him. "I don't regret it. I only wished I got a few more punches in before Larsson showed up."

"You owe me ten laps after getting to fight Lynch while I was stuck with the rich boy," Marco grumbled at Adrian who sagged his shoulders at the extra punishment of exercise. At his words, Bennett narrowed his eyes at Marco who glared in return but said nothing.

"Do you want to repeat what you just called me?" Bennett questioned but the tone held as an order, if not a dare.

Through gritted teeth, Marco bit out, "No," before looking away.

Declan scoffed to himself then looked at Adrian with a raised eyebrow. "Wait. You call that a punch? You punch like a girl-"

"Hey!" I snapped, giving him a look in disbelief.

Declan looked at me in surprise as if remembering my presence. "Sorry, I meant to only make fun of him."

"By insulting women too?" I questioned dryly.

He winced. "I realize now it was sort of a double-edged sword."

Adrian rolled his eyes. "It's not like you didn't want the fight either."

"I'm not a masochist like you," Declan snapped at him. "And no, I don't want a fight. I don't ever want a fight. I just wanted you all to shut up and leave us alone."

"Right," he said with a snort, "and meeting up afterschool in the parking lot will actually-"

Raymond scrubbed a hand down his face in frustration. "You really need to learn how to shut up, Wüthrich," he grumbled. "You're making the rest of us look like idiots."

Adrian looked at Raymond in confusion. "What do you mean, Ray?"

"This is the entire reason I say parking lot afterschool," Declan told him, his voice rising. "Out of the school. Away from the teachers. If you had just waited for a couple of hours, I would've been able to beat you up so badly, they'd need to pull up your dental records to identify you." He let out a sharp breath as if it was an attempt to calm himself down. "But no, now I'm stuck in another office, dealing with at best a suspension at worst an expulsion, and you're only six feet away from me when I could put you six feet under instead."

That deserved a painful silence between all of us.

Jordan let out a low whistle. "That's a new one."

"Dental records?" Adrian repeated quietly.

"Did he say expulsion?" I asked Jordan.

"Yeah, if you're going to start a fight at school, don't be the dumbass who makes the first hit," Raymond said dryly as if he was giving a lecture in Delinquency 101. "Lynch over here can call it self defense and you will get the brunt of the punishment."

Adrian gritted his teeth, his hands balled into fists, trembling his rage. He cursed under his breath before placing his face into his hands. The youngest in this rag-tag group of idiots learned the first lesson in Delinquency 101.

"It's surprising to see you actually have something in that head of yours," I said nonchalantly.

Raymond smirked. "Which one?"

I looked at him in confusion before heat inflamed my cheeks when I realized what he meant. "You're disgusting," I snapped at him.

"You started it, Lorraine," he said, rolling his eyes. "I just said the best thing that would make you shut up. You just wanted to get the last word in."

"You want to say it's Adrian's fault, but you're the one who looked for the fight to begin with," I informed him.

"Thank you!" Adrian said in exasperation.

"Shut up, junior! It costs 200 bucks to replace my glasses," I snapped at him before turning my attention back to Raymond. "Things would look a lot different when Larsson and Kaminski know what really happened, Myers."

If I got a dollar for every time he smirked at me, I'd be able to pay my college tuition. That is if I'll still be accepted to one after this mess.

"Just give me a chance to make some popcorn before you tell them that all three of us lied saying you never were in the fight. We're all dragged into this whether you like it or not, Lorraine."

Before I could respond, Jordan cut in with a bright tone, "I think this is a great time to switch some seats before we put fight club for the extracurricular activities of our college apps."

He stood up and slightly pushed my shoulder to coax me into moving over to his chair. "C'mon Lorraine, we're switching seats. Myers, switch with Raul before I change my mind and hold you down while Naomi does to you what you did to her book."

Raymond looked at Jordan for what felt like a long time before he looked at Raul and motioned his head. The two of them switched seats just as Jordan and I did.

With a smile, Jordan nodded to Raul. "How's the nose? Don't give me that look. I got a nosebleed too. I'd say that calls us even."

For the next one or so hours, we all waited for our parents to come to the main office. We were all quiet, save for the occasional small talk. One by one, the group grew smaller as fathers, mothers, aunts or uncles came in to speak with the principal and vice-principal before leaving the office with them. One or two students came into the main office for an errand or their Service elective and eyed all of us sitting in a neat row but not daring to ask what had happened.

After a while, Declan glanced at me. "Seems we both got the same enemies." I realize that seemed to be true given Jordan and Bennett didn't have any mortal enemies so far.

"I can't exactly say it's an achievement," I responded dryly. "Raymond has the natural gift of making everyone hate him and bringing out the worst in people."

Declan cracked a small smile to himself but didn't say anything. I leaned forward to look at Bennett who was sitting at the other side of Declan. Bennett stared absentmindedly at the melted ice pack in his hands. Declan cleared his throat and when I looked at him, he motioned his head in Bennett's direction. I gave him a dry look in return for being so obvious.

"Hey, Bennett..." I said slowly, quietly, slowly and quietly.

At the sound of his name, Bennett turned to look at me. I paused then realized he wasn't going to say anything in response and was simply waiting for me to continue.

"You've been..." Jordan suddenly nudged my shoulder and I shot him a glare before looking back at Bennett. "You've been pretty quiet."

Bennett looked at me blankly making me think he wasn't going to respond much less react at my attempt of showing concern.

"Is that something out of the ordinary?" Bennett asked me. "I thought I'm always quiet."

I stared at him in disbelief. Jordan and Declan simultaneously facepalmed themselves. Then Jordan winced and cursed, probably having facepalmed onto one of the injuries on his face.

"I hate fights," Bennett murmured. "Then I had to fight two from the soccer team- Marco and... Adrian..." He paused and looked at me.

"Are you ok? After what Adrian did?"

My hand unconsciously went up to my neck and I quickly put my hand back down. "Yes, all good here."

Bennett nodded slowly. However, I could tell from his eyes that he didn't believe me, but he didn't say anything.

"Well, I was amazing," Jordan chimed in. "Compared to Bent over here armed with his silver spoon, I held my own and then some. Didn't I, Raul?" When Jordan looked at Raul, he flinched when he was met with a glare from Raul. Jordan turned back to look at us only to find that we completely ignored him.

"What do you think about the deal the principal and vice-principal made?" Declan asked us.

"I never knew they made deals like that, but some rumors in the past suddenly make sense now," I told him. "I don't like the thought of taking it, but college apps are due in two months."

"Honestly, I don't mind taking it," Declan confessed. "I'm just hoping my dad's the one coming to accept the stupid deal. What about you, Bennett?"

"I was expecting to have to pay my way out of this, so this was a preferable option," Bennett told us.

"I mean, if that money has nowhere to go now, you can always give it to me," Jordan offered. "I'll make sure it will be well-invested."

Declan snorted. "Hopefully not for your college tuition because-"

"Yawa, Declan!" A voice exclaimed.

Declan froze mid-sentence. Everyone slowly turned to look at the direction of the exclamation.

Walking towards us was a woman perhaps in her late 40s in a smart casual outfit with a white short-sleeve blouse, tan skinny pants, and these black high heel ankle boots that looked better than my own pair. She had black very curly hair like Erinma's but was neatly tied into a bun of large braids and curls. However, what caught my eye wasn't her dark brown eyes that narrowed into a fierce look.

It was the toddler she held against her hip.

The toddler had the same very curly hair as the woman only it was tied into two little buns on the top of her head with a red bow for each one. She had one hand loosely holding the strap of her light blue overalls worn over a white shirt.

When the woman and the toddler were now in front of Declan, the resemblance or well, lack of a resemblance was clear. From the difference in hair type and how the duo were shades darker than Declan.

"Yah-wah," the toddler repeated after the woman but with a beaming smile.

I was stuck on the word the woman said. Yawa? Either she just said "devil" in Bisaya or she said something in a different language because I don't believe that's Spanish.

Declan winced then gave her a small, sheepish smile. "Hey, ma..."

"Oh my God, he really is adopted," Adrian muttered, earning a punch in the shoulder from someone next to him, hissing at him to shut up.

Declan's mother began nonchalantly, "I was on my way to drop off Delilah to daycare before my rehearsal when I got a call from the school. I know you would've rather have your dad come in which is exactly why I came here instead," she told him before adding, "with Delilah to make you feel bad."

"Wasn't it supposed to be the final rehearsal before your concert next week?" Declan asked hesitantly.

She smiled at him. "I'm so happy you remember that instead of the fact that you shouldn't have fights in school," she finished dryly.

The child, Delilah, outstretched her hands towards Declan. "Deh-cah," she cooed.

"Are you sure that's your big brother, sweetie?" She questioned the toddler. "You're so smart for being able to tell it's him with all of those bruises on his face."

"Ma, stop," Declan told her in exasperation.

"We're continuing this discussion at home," she informed him before looking at the rest of us. With a curt smile, she greeted, "Bennett, Jordan. I'm glad you three still seem to stick together."

Bennett gave her a slight nod while Jordan forced out a smile. Her eyes then landed on me, giving me a curious look, but deciding to not question it. She then turned to talk to a main office staff member before being led to the office where the principal and vice-principal were at.

My hand went up to my chest in an attempt to rip my heart out. "You have a baby sister." I was so wrapped up in adoring her existence that I didn't care that I had just stated the obvious.

"Yeah, her name's Delilah. She'll be two in a couple of months," Declan told me with a wry smile before sighing. "Too bad I won't be there for her birthday seeing that my parents are going to kill me tonight."

"Don't be like that, man," Jordan assured him. "Maybe if you beg well enough, your parents will kill you after her birthday."

Before Declan could retaliate, the air in the room shifted when someone came into the main office. Everyone automatically sat up and straightened themselves up in their seats. Raymond let out a sharp exhale. Adrian gulped nervously. Declan glared at the ground. Jordan gripped the sides of his chair. I fiddled with the frame of my glasses. Everyone was on high alert. Everyone except Bennett who still laid back against his chair with his usual blank stare.

He was still the spitting image of him. His dark blonde hair was styled into a side part and his light brown narrowed into a glare. He wore a stern look, knowing the change in atmosphere was because of him. The yellow police badge on his shoulder was a sharp contrast to his black uniform. There was a weight in his step due to the things he carried, strapped against his holster: the walkie-talkie, the baton, the handcuffs, and the gun.

When he saw me, his eyebrows furrowed together, frowning.

"Hello, Naomi," Raymond's father greeted me with a slight nod. "How are your parents?"

"They're doing well, officer Myers," I told him, giving him a small smile. "Thank you for asking."

He then looked at his son, eyes narrowing at him. "You dragged the poor Lorraine girl into your mess again, Raymond?"

Raymond gritted his teeth. "No, she just happened to be there."

"It's true," I confirmed, my voice quiet.

Raymond's father eyed the two of us then turned around to talk to an office worker. We all didn't relax until he was led to one of the offices. I ignored the stares from the transfers, knowing they were all questioning how Raymond's father knew me by name. I glanced in Raymond's direction and we locked eyes for a moment before I broke it off.

"We've known each other since elementary school," was all I told them.

The silence was broken when Jordan suddenly cursed under his breath. The dread was clear on his face. Following his eyes, I turned to see what Jordan was looking at and saw her.

One look and you can tell the two of them were related with her light green eyes and bouncy light blonde hair neatly curled down her shoulders. I'd want to place her in her late 20s because saying she's in her early to mid-30s would be a disservice to her. The woman walked almost gracefully towards us in heels. In a business looking attire of a long sleeve blouse with a light floral print and a black pencil skirt, she looked as if she had just left work at an office.

"Jordan Louis Wallace."

Jordan was now staring at his lap, fiddling with his ice pack, not daring to look up at the woman standing in front of him. The woman smiled sweetly at Jordan as she jutted his chin upward to look at her. Her eyes scanned his face, thumbing the bruise near his chin. I didn't understand how Jordan could look like he was bracing himself.

Suddenly, her smile was replaced by a harsh scowl before she began to speak rapidly in French. It was evident that there was weight in her words given the anger in her tone. Thanks to Jordan, I have increased my nonexistent French vocabulary and caught some curses under the rapid-fire with words pummeled like bullets. Sitting right next to Jordan, it felt like I was being scolded by her as well. I never knew it was possible to see the charismatic, sometimes arrogant, Jordan cowering before the woman.

At the final word, she closed her eyes, took a deep breath then exhaled. Opening her eyes, she looked back at Jordan with a raised eyebrow and a hand on her hip. "Tu comprends?" She finished in a questioning tone.

Jordan glanced away, his eyebrows furrowed together. "Oui, maman," he mumbled.

The woman pinched the bridge of her nose, muttering to herself in French. She scanned down the line of seats then blinked and looked back at me as if she didn't realize I was sitting there before. I think I should start getting used to this kind of reaction.

"Hello, Declan, Bennett," she greeted them. "Please don't tell me it was Jordan who dragged you two here with him." Jordan opened his mouth to defend himself but received a glare that made him fall silent.

When the woman went to speak to the staff member at the front desk, I whispered to Jordan, "I didn't know you had an older sister. Why is this the way I'm finding out you have siblings?"

Jordan looked at me in disbelief. "What are you talking about? She's my mom."

My eyes widened. "Oh..." I'll just blame my nearsightedness for this one...

Raul, sitting next to Jordan, scoffed to himself. "Wallace, I gotta say, your mom is so-"

"I will actually kill you if you finish that sentence," Jordan stated, making Raul instantly shut up.

Declan's mother left one of the offices and Raymond's father was escorted inside in her place. When Declan's mother and Jordan's mother saw each other, the frowns on their faces were replaced by smiles before they greeted each other with a light hug.

"Anne, is that you?" Declan's mother asked. "It's been too long."

"It has been, Margaret," Jordan's mother agreed. "I almost didn't recognize Delilah here. She's grown up so much."

They continued their conversation quietly, glancing in our direction every so often to make it obvious who they were talking about. I looked at Declan and Jordan, the two of them looking more worn out than worried now.

Someone cleared their throat.

Just when I thought we were done with the family reunion, one more showed up. The person who cleared their throat was a tall man who looked like he was in his late 30s donning a fitted gray business suit. I would've wanted to describe him further if I wasn't caught up by the fact that while Bennett had black hair and blue eyes, this man was blonde with brown eyes.

My eyes flitted between the man and Bennett as I attempted to find the similarities between them.

"We aren't related, Naomi," Bennett informed me.

"Don't worry," Jordan assured me. "I'd be confused too. The likeness is uncanny. He's the spitting image of him." I shot him a glare.

"I'm here in your father's stead. I'm one of his secretaries. He's currently in a business meeting..." He faltered, hesitating before saying, "Mr, uh... Mr. Fraz-"

Bennett stopped him. "You can just call me Bennett," he informed the man. "Save that for my father."

The man straightened his tie. "Of course... Bennett." He glanced around before informing him, "I will also be driving you to the main house after this."

"I already know," Bennett said, almost impatiently. "But we're taking my car." The man nodded in agreement and after realizing Bennett wouldn't say anything else, he turned around to talk to an office worker.

"Imagine if your dad actually showed up?" Jordan asked with a chuckle that was cut short when he saw the joke's poor reception.

"I'm just glad I can take my car," Bennett said. "That way I can leave whenever I want."

After a couple of minutes, Declan left with his mother carrying his baby sister for her. He gave us a simple nod of goodbye before leaving the office. Jordan and his mother left soon after with Jordan having to squeeze in a wave of goodbye before returning back to the one-sided conversation as his mother talked to him in French. Bennett and I sat in silence with an empty seat between us as he waited for his father's secretary to finish talking with a staff member. Then Bennett, giving me a sideways glance, stood up to wordlessly follow the man out of the office.

I was looking at my broken glasses when I heard the office door open and close. Looking up, my dad stood in front of me with his hands in the pockets of his suit. He looked tired and I knew it probably didn't do any good for someone in his mid-40s to learn after a long day of work that their daughter is in the principal's office. With strands of gray in his dark brown hair and dark blue eyes, the only way people could tell we were related was from the fact we both needed glasses.

He smiled at me and I braced myself thinking he was about to scold me just like Jordan's mother. But instead, he ruffled my hair and said, "I'm glad you're alright, langga."

My middle name is Lana, after my late grandmother on my mother's side. Filipinos have a rather unorthodox culture with names- they name you one thing and give you a completely unrelated nickname after. Langga in Bisaya is an endearment like "my dear". With my middle name, I was often jokingly called that by my relatives and even my dad as he slowly picked up some Filipino words.

When he called me that, I knew everything was going to be alright.

"No, everything is not going to be alright!" My mom exclaimed, throwing up her hands in exasperation. "A week of suspension? This is what I come home to after a twelve-hour shift in the hospital?"

This is what my dad and I came to when we arrived home from school. My mom was still in her lavender hospital scrubs with a mysterious stain on the side. Her age was marked with the wisps of gray scattered into her dark brown hair which was messily tied into a ponytail. There were noticeable dark circles underneath her eyes, but her light brown eyes fought against the tiredness with anger instead.

As my dad undid his tie, he greeted her with a kiss on the cheek. Although she looked angry, she cocked her head to the side to allow my dad to kiss her cheek. "I know. Isn't it such a great surprise?" He asked.

"I'm glad someone finds this amusing," she said dryly. "Seeing that our only daughter decided to become a delinquent."

"I wouldn't call her a delinquent for stopping a group fight with a fire extinguisher," he told her. "I'd call it hilarious instead."

"Thanks, dad," I said dryly before telling my mom, "After some parents complained, they decided on an equal punishment for the deal. And I wouldn't have to pay for the replacement fee of the fire extinguisher."

"Right, yes, the deal," she said, shaking her head. "But did it have to be a week? Did it have to be a suspension? Aren't midterms coming up? You're missing a week's worth of material too."

"I already thought of that," I assured her. "I don't have any exams next week, only the week after. And you know how the education system here is- everything is either from the textbook or the internet. Also, I know some kids in class who can update me on anything I missed."

She looked at me for what felt like a long time before putting her face in her hands. "You know what? I don't care if this won't be on your school record. Even if you stopped the fight-"

"Laura, honey," my dad said gently. "It really is going to be alright. If our teenage daughter is going to slip up and learn a lesson, I'd rather it be from something like this instead of, I don't know, wrecking my car."

"I can't honestly be the bad guy in this, Nolan," she told him. "You do understand how ridiculous this is, right? How the school dealt with this? How Naomi is involved in the first place? Even her glasses got broken!"

I groaned in exasperation, scrubbing a hand down my face. "It wasn't like I was caught with drugs or alcohol, mom. There are teenagers doing worse, a lot worse. I don't sneak out of the house or go to parties. The worst thing I ever did was... stay up past my bedtime to read a book or jaywalked."

"That's exactly why, Naomi," she told me earnestly. "You don't do any of those things. And I'm so proud of you that you don't. But that's why I'm reacting like this. This isn't something you'd ever do."

I was expecting to have to retort back an argument and was surprised to have been given this honest explanation. I fell silent, taking in her words because she's right. This isn't something I'd ever do.

I just didn't want to see them get hurt.

My dad placed a hand on my shoulder. "I know you, Naomi. You would've done anything else unless you knew one of those boys."

I looked away. "No, I was just stopping a fight."

"Are you dating one of them?" My mom accused.

I looked back at her in disbelief and exclaimed, "What? Of course not!" I was too busy angry at that blind jump to a conclusion to be embarrassed.

"Well, when you go back to school, I don't want you hanging out with any of those boys anymore," my dad told me.

My mom exhaled sharply. "You know what I should do? I should call their parents and give them a piece of my mind for dragging you into their mess."

"No, don't," I told her, suddenly desperate to change their minds. "They were just defending themselves. It was the other group that started the fight. They're- They're my friends."

And they were. I still considered them my friends despite that stupid operation. Sure, that plan may have saved us a couple of weeks and created scars that might never fade. But if that fight did any good, it still showed that we were still going to defend each other.

"Your friends?" My dad repeated slowly.

I winced. I know none of this was going to make sense. I wasn't exactly a social butterfly. Never invited anyone to a slumber party, never been invited to one. If anything, this might be the first time I mentioned something from school that wasn't school-related like grades or exams. Mentioning I had a friend, well plural friends, was a leap.

"Are they the same people who pick you up and drop you off for school?" My dad asked me and when he saw my mom's confusion, he explained, "I forgot my phone at home and when I drove back, I saw Naomi stepping into a Benz. A nice one too."

When I decided that I wasn't going to tell my parents that I randomly became friends with some guys who can chauffeur me to and from school, it was to avoid this interrogation entirely. I didn't know that it would lead to my doom.

"I'm glad that it only took a suspension for your parents to know the people you hang out with," my mom told me, crossing her arms. After a beat, she then said, "They're your friends? Fine then. I want to meet them."

I looked at her, attempting to process the words but my brain crashed. "What?"

"I'm your mom. I should be able to meet your friends especially since you ended up getting suspended for them. They should be nice people if that were the case."

"But I- You're kidding." I looked at my dad for help. "Dad, c'mon."

He shrugged one shoulder. "Now I'm kinda curious too. I had to leave work late and they had already left by the time I was there. Unless... they're not actually your friends. Then you have to tell us what's really going on, Naomi. If you're in some sort of trouble, we can talk to the school and-"

"No, it's nothing like that," I quickly assured him.

What kind of hole did I dig myself into? If I take back what I said, I'll probably be homeschooled. If I actually go through with this then-

"I want them here for dinner, tomorrow night. I have the day off then." When she looked at me, she smiled. "You never invite anyone over. It might as well be these friends of yours who drive a Benz and get into group fights."

"What if they can't make it?" I asked slowly, hoping I can still save myself.

My dad patted my shoulder as if it was an attempt to comfort me. "I think it'd be best to make sure that won't be the case."

-

"I'm starting to think that the whole point of this is less about meeting my friends and more about you showing off your cooking skills," I accused unsurely.

My mom set another platter of food on the table, turning it in an angle for aesthetic, before looking up. "What makes you say that?"

I eyed the large array of food decorating the dining table that was more than a typical dinner but not exactly equivalent to a Filipino-Hawaiian party. "I don't know, it's just a hunch."

She glanced away, almost innocently. "It's just been a while since I can cook for a lot of people. And you never really bring anyone over so..."

Setting down the final plate, I frowned to myself. "No. It's more than that." My eyes widened at the realization. "You're testing them with food?" I asked in disbelief.

She scoffed to herself then told me with a smile, "Naomi, let me teach you a lesson all women should know. The best way to a man's heart is through his stomach."

"So... murder," I concluded, poking fun at the saying. "You're going to poison them."

She gave me a dry look. "No, just as you can use food to get closer to someone, you can judge someone based on how they eat. You think I would be with your father if he wasn't open to eating Hawaiian or Filipino food? I wanted a man with tastes."

"And thank God I got some," my dad said in exasperation, walking out of the kitchen to place another platter of food on the table. "Imagine all of the food I'd be missing out on if I was a picky eater? I don't want to imagine my life if I hadn't met your mother in college. Although... it would have been nice if I saw some more Irish food on the menu."

My mom took off the kitchen towel over her shoulder then whipped it in my dad's direction who laughed and quickly moved to get away from it. "I needed to test them with Asian food. It won't work if I tried to make your mother's shepherd's pie."

"I'll be sure to make you an Irish-American feast after this," he promised her. "You deserve it after spending your day off cooking."

"I'm looking forward to it," she said hotly, crossing her arms, "And you better add that apple cake, too. Now get the last plate of food in the kitchen, it's almost seven."

My mom looked back at me. "It's not like I'm making them eat dinuguan or sinigang, alright? I'm testing them on their etiquette. When they eat new food, are they going to be rude or not?"

I gave her a deadpanned look. "I can tell you're going to enjoy this."

When the doorbell rang, both of us looked in its direction. Looking back at my mom, she smiled to herself. "Oh, I know I will."

Opening the door, I was relieved that they got the memo to dress well after Jordan asked the dress code and I just told them to not be an idiot. In case they didn't, I dressed a little casually and wore a long violet sweater with the hem falling past my hips before meeting my black leggings.

Underneath a black coat, Bennett wore a dark blue turtleneck and black slacks. Jordan sported an olive green button-down with the sleeves rolled up, pairing it with brown corduroy pants. And Declan had a wine red sweater underneath a black bomber jacket along with fitted black jeans. However, despite cleaning up well, the scrapes and bruises were still clear on their face despite being hidden by white bandaids.

My mom grabbed my shoulder then slightly leaned down to my ear. "Naomi, langga," she said quietly with her voice tense. "Why didn't you tell me your friends are handsome?"

I blinked. "What?"

"Hi, I'm so glad you could make it," my mom greeted them with a bright smile. "Please step inside. It must be freezing out there."

"Thank you so much," Jordan told her, his smile impossibly brighter than hers. "Naomi never mentioned she had an older sister. Is it respectable for me to call you Ate?" Sounding out the term as "ah-teh" correctly and with surprising ease.

My mom froze for a moment. Bennett and Declan stopped moving too, shooting Jordan a look with a mixture of disbelief and anger.

I never knew I had to hold back the urge to kill a man in my own home. Was it payback for mistaking his mom as his older sister?

Filipinos have an honorifics system. Ate means "older sister", Kuya "older brother", Tita "aunt", and Tito "uncle". But you don't have to be blood-related to call these honorifics. You could be a family friend or even a stranger given specific situations to be respectful. We also have this in Hawaii with just Auntie and Uncle.

I eyed my mom warily, not knowing what to expect but was surprised when she chuckled to herself. "I didn't know I was going to have such a charmer be our guest." She slightly shook her head. "That's very sweet of you, but no, I'm Naomi's mother. Ate is usually for women who are slightly older than you like an older sister or cousin."

Jordan wore a slight frown. "I'm so sorry. That was rude of me."

"Nonsense!" She assured him before stating, "I'm taking it as a compliment. This just made my day. It's just that I would feel like a fraud if you'd call me Ate."

"You shouldn't call yourself that at all," Jordan told her. "I really did think you were Naomi's older sister who just graduated college."

"Oh stop it," my mom said, not even fighting back the smile.

Declan, Bennett, and I looked at Jordan who wore a big smile on his face, and thought of one thing: what a class act.

"Let's all trade introductions at the dining table," my mom told them. "My husband should be bringing in the last platter."

When my mom went ahead to the dining table, I stopped the three and told them to take off their shoes and place them on the shoe rack. "We have indoor slippers if you want, but you can just walk around in your socks," I said, showcasing my own low black ankle socks. "It's an Asian thing so we don't have to clean the floor from whatever tracks under your shoes."

As they did so, I shot Jordan a glare. "I have half a mind to throw you out."

Having kicked off his shoes, he looked up and gave me a grin. "What?" He asked innocently. "Your mom loves me. Don't worry, your parents are going to fall in love with us by the end of the night or, at least, me since these two haven't even said a word."

"Just don't be an idiot and mess this up," Declan threatened him. "My mom is planning on calling Naomi's mom about this afterward. She probably told your mom too. This entire thing is a test."

"At least Bennett's in the clear," Jordan said casually. "He's just getting free dinner."

Bennett paused to think about it then said, "It's true but we still need to be careful."

"Careful is my middle na- Crap," Jordan said, nearly bumping into a table with a vase. He gave us a weak smile. "That didn't count."

When we walked into the dining hall, the surprised looks from the transfers made me feel probably a fraction of the pride my mom was displaying with the beaming smile on her face. My mom used the good dishware to showcase the food she made. I already knew that she took photos of the array she set up to show off to our relatives.

"Let's all go around and introduce ourselves," my mom said, her voice teetering with excitement. "I'm Laura, Naomi's mother. I don't know if Naomi fully told you, but we're Filipino-Hawaiian," she explained to them. "Since you're Naomi's friends, you can call me Auntie, Tita Laura, or Mrs. Lorraine. Just whatever you're comfortable with, although the last one makes me feel old.

"And I'm Naomi's father, Nolan," my dad greeted, reaching out to shake each of their hands. "I'm neither Filipino or Hawaiian, so don't worry if you feel a little bit unsure about the honorifics. It took me a while to get used to it even after marrying into the family, but I like being called Tito Nolan aside from Uncle Nolan."

After a pause, Jordan glanced at the rest of us before slowly beginning, "So what should we say: name, high school, one fun fact about ourselves?" My parents chuckled at that. "I'll start. I'm Jordan Wallace, senior, and I'm in Naomi's AP Physics class. We're lab partners."

Declan cleared his throat then gave them a curt smile. "I'm Declan Lynch, a senior too, and Naomi and I are in the same AP Calculus class. All four of us also have AP Language together."

Declan then slightly elbowed Bennett who gave a curt nod. "And I'm Bennett Frazier. Naomi and I have a project together in Independent Research." I fought back the reflex to wince at that.

"I don't think I should have to introduce myself," I told them, "but I think the food should be. Props to my mom for making all of this."

"Starting off, we have jasmine white rice as well as garlic fried rice," I said, pointing to the two pots at the end.

"For Hawaiian food, to start we have some macaroni salad-" referring to the plate of elbow macaroni with grated carrots in a mayo sauce "-and calamari which is battered and deep-fried squid," I explained for the plate of golden brown pieces with lemon wedges decorated around it.

Pointing at a plate of neat slices of chicken with a light brown fried coat, I said, "This is chicken katsu, battered and deep-fried chicken cutlets, with tonkatsu sauce at the side."

"Isn't katsu Japanese?" Jordan asked hesitantly.

I couldn't help but smile at the question. "It is. Hawaiian food is it's own melting pot because Filipino, Chinese, and Japanese immigrants came to work in the sugar plantations and brought their recipes too."

"Also, it's my first time making this dish," my mom said. "It's grilled mahi-mahi, which is a fish, on top of a pineapple-mango salsa." The dish had fish filets surrounded by the salsa base of pineapple, mango, onion, and bell peppers. "We also have tortilla chips if you want to eat them with the salsa."

"Then there's the Filipino food." Referring to one place of golden brown pieces of meat with a brown sauce at the side, I explained, "This is lechon kawali, it's crispy fried pork belly with the pork skin still on. You can eat it with the lechon sauce which is made out of pork liver."

My mom and I looked at the transfers' faces when I said that and saw they didn't throw a look of disgust but held curiosity and interest instead. They've passed.

"This is my favorite," my dad said, pointing at the assortment of chicken drumsticks and thighs covered in a dark brown sauce. "This is chicken adobo. The adobo part is the sauce, the meat can also be pork or beef."

"I made some pancit, which is a vegetable noodle stir fry of carrots, cabbages, and green beans. I decided to not add any meat since we have the other dishes."

"Over here is bistek," I named for the plate of thin slices of beef paired with grilled onions.

"Bistec, like 'steak' in Spanish?" Declan asked.

I scratched my head, thinking about it. "Well, I don't really know if we call it bistek because Spain conquered the Philippines for more than 300 years or it's a nickname short for 'beef steak'."

"Speaking of Spain, we also have leche flan for dessert in the kitchen," my mom said brightly.

"Leche flan?" Declan repeated in disbelief. "Like... this kinda caramel custard dish? I haven't had that in years," he said almost nostalgically.

"Gotta thank Spain for that," I told him. "Colonizers always manage to leave things out for us."

Jordan elbowed Bennett perhaps to remind him of his British lineage, earning himself a quick glare.

"Also for dessert, we have some fried plantains, bananas, with some sugar. You can eat it with the chicken adobo. It sounds weird but it's pretty good," I said honestly.

"Alright, I think we should list this as cruel and unusual punishment," Jordan told us. "Because I don't know about you, but describing a bunch of dishes sitting in front of you and not being able to eat them is just plain torture."

"Then we should start eating before the food gets cold," my dad said with a smile.

Jordan abruptly said, "Oh, before I forget, I have something. I used to have Filipino neighbors in my old apartment which is why I know I shouldn't come to a party empty-handed."

He held up a plastic container filled with a colorful assortment of white, green, and purple little cakes. My eyes widened after recognizing them. Jordan smiled and said, "I managed to find a bakery and brought this puto."

The word seemed to echo in the room that fell silent.

"What's wrong with you?!" Declan demanded in an exclamation. "We got invited to their house for dinner and you pull this?"

"Why would you even say that?" Bennett asked him in disbelief. "Don't you know what that word even means?"

Declan exhaled then told my parents, "I'm sorry. We understand if you want to kick us out and-"

He was cut off when my mom burst out laughing. She had to put her hand on the table to keep her balance from how hard she was laughing. "This is amazing. I can't believe- Oh God, I'm going to tell all my cousins about this."

Seeing that my mom was going to need time to recover, I explained, "This is a byproduct after being colonized by a country for a couple centuries. Puto is a really bad word in Spanish. But in the Philippines... puto is a dessert- steamed rice cake."

"A dessert?" Declan asked quietly.

"A dessert," Bennett repeated quietly.

"Yeah..." I said awkwardly. "They're really good though. The white one is regular with a sprinkle of cheese, the green is pandan, and the purple is ube. Pandan is a plant and ube is a sweet yam."

"Oh," Bennett and Declan said quietly together.

As my dad patted my mom's back to calm her down from her hysterical laughter, I couldn't help but chuckle as I said offhandedly to the guys, "Y'know, if this was a popularity competition, Jordan is currently leading."

I soon learned to regret that remark the moment Bennett and Declan glared at Jordan who wore a triumphant smile. What did I just start?

No one talked the first couple of minutes because we were all too busy eating. They say that you know the food is good when a table is eating in silence. As I twirled the noodles into my fork, I watched my mom who kept sneaking glances at the transfers as they ate the food. Bennett was eating the fish with the partnering pineapple salsa with white rice, but also had some pansit on the side. Jordan started with the macaroni salad and had just finished eating some chicken katsu before serving himself the lechon kawali to pair with the garlic fried rice. Then Declan had both bistek and chicken adobo on his plate. When he tried the adobo with a plantain and white rice, his eyes widened in surprise before he began eating more eagerly.

"So... how's the food?" My mom pressed. "Is this your first time eating Hawaiian and Filipino food?"

Declan nodded. "Yeah, but I can't help but feel pretty nostalgic with it. I'm Cuban-Venezuelan, but I grew up eating mostly Mexican and Salvadorian food. We eat plantains and rice too. And this lechon kawali, it's like chicharrón, pork rinds." I told him that Filipinos call it that too.

"Your last name is Lynch, right?" My dad asked after taking a sip of water. "I don't know if it's a coincidence, but I know this music store that is owned by people with the same surname. Laura, remember when I had to go there to buy some ukuleles?"

She thought about it then she perked up after remembering. "Wait right, but they were out of stock when you were there. We still need them for the family reunion." Looking back at Declan she said, "That was quite a tangent, but you probably never even heard of it."

Declan smiled. "Actually yeah, my parents own that shop, No Strings Attached, or Strings for short. They're both into music with my dad being a music producer and my mom a violinist. They opened the shop as a side project."

"When I was there, I got the chance to meet your father but-" My dad stopped, frowning to himself. "Um, it's just that-"

Declan nodded, giving him a curt smile. "Yeah, I'm adopted."

"Oh." My dad said quietly to which my mom reflexively smacked his shoulder with the back of her hand for starting this conversation strong.

"I think we got a delivery of some instruments that were out of stock," Declan told them. "I can double-check later if you'd like. Maybe even throw in a discount for the great dinner."

"You don't have to do that," my mom assured him. "But yes, we're going to need to buy some before they run out of stock again, or else we'll never hear the end of it from Tito Joseph."

"I can go and buy them for you guys," I offered to which my mom nodded in agreement.

"You guys have family reunions?" Jordan asked as he scooped a serving of bistek. "My family back in Canada doesn't do them but I can imagine your parties are great with all of the food."

The memories from past reunions filled my head and I smiled remembering them. "It's an annual thing we started a couple years ago. The families are mainly from Hawaii and the Philippines. Next year will be our turn to host."

"It will also be your sister and her family's first time to meet everyone," my mom reminded my dad. "It's long overdue. Also, Naomi, be sure to take care of all of the cousins during the reunion."

I held back an eyeroll. "Of course I will mom."

"From what you said, Jordan, does that mean you're Canadian?" My dad asked him. "But you said you had Filipino neighbors earlier?"

Jordan nodded. "Yup. I was born there but immigrated here with my mom when I was a baby. We used to live back at Wilshire before my mom got a better job. We had Filipino neighbors in our apartment who always managed to cook way too much food and would share it with us."

"Alright, be honest," I interrogated. "Did you know what puto means in Spanish when you brought the food?" I ignored Declan and Bennett who slightly cringed at the word.

Jordan laughed. "I swear I didn't. Although it's pretty funny how languages overlap. French has the word putain." He winced then looked at my parents, "Sorry, I didn't mean to curse even if it was in a different language." They assured him that it was alright.

"Anyway, back to your question earlier, Auntie," he paused then smiled when my mom smiled at the name. "Yeah, I've eaten Filipino food. You guys like to put sugar in a lot of your food, like the lechon sauce. I remember there's this one beef dish that you eat with egg and fried rice."

"That should be tapsilog," my mom explained. "Tapa is beef sirloin that we put with some sugar as well as soy sauce. If you hear any dishes with silog at the end, it's a breakfast dish and would always come with an egg and garlic fried rice."

"It's a joke that a Filipino breakfast is last night's leftovers with an egg on the side," I told him with a chuckle.

"But it's my first time eating Hawaiian food," Jordan told us. "Well, then again, I love Hawaiian pizza."

He didn't receive the laughter he was expecting for the joke seeing my mom slightly frowned at the remark.

"And Jordan ruins his lead in the race," Jordan muttered to himself in disappointment.

I told Jordan awkwardly, "Heads up, not everything with pineapple is Hawaiian. One of my cousins told me that it was invented in Canada."

"Seriously?" Jordan asked. "Well then... How about you Bennett? How are you liking this great food?" His eagerness to change the topic was duly noted.

Bennett took a sip of water. "No, I haven't had Hawaiian or Filipino food before. But I like your mahi-mahi dish with the pineapple salsa," he told my mom. "Did you make the salsa yourself?"

"I did," my mom said proudly before adding, "I can share the recipe for your mom if you'd like."

Bennett paused then nodded. "That would be great. Thank you."

"Seeing that we're learning about everyone's origin stories," my dad joked, "can we ask where you're from?"

"Yes, I'm English on my father's side and Italian from my mother's side," Bennett explained.

My mom chuckled to herself. "Italian? You'd probably be horrified with our Filipino spaghetti." I thought about it then remembered the dish.

Bennett frowned, his eyebrows furrowed together. "Filipino spaghetti? How so?"

"Well, there's a bit of history that needs to be explained first," my mom began. "The Philippines seemed to be a popular country to colonize. First 300 years of Spain, a short British occupation, America for a couple of decades, and even Japan during the second world war."

"When America colonized the Philippines, they introduced tomato ketchup, and we fell in love with it. But after World War Two, food was scarce and tomatoes couldn't grow well in the Philippines. So we created this banana ketchup which is, yes, made from actual bananas and is a bit sweeter than tomato ketchup. The Americans also introduced spaghetti as well. But once again, with a lack of food resources, we ended up creating our version of spaghetti."

"And what exactly is in Filipino spaghetti?" Bennett asked slowly.

I couldn't tell if my mom was worried or excited to tell an Italian what Filipino spaghetti is, but I was holding my breath as she listed the ingredients.

"Well modernly we have, of course, spaghetti, followed by onions, garlic, bell paper, ground beef, tomato sauce," she began. "But then we add the banana ketchup for a sweet tang, cheddar cheese, Filipino hot dogs, and sugar."

Everyone eyed Bennett warily who fell dead silent after receiving that information. Something told me he was probably an Italian spaghetti purist. He blankly stared at his plate of food, looking like he was still processing all of the ingredients.

"Oh, wow, that's a really cool history lesson of one dish!" Jordan threw in to break out the awkward silence, forcing out a laugh.

"Yeah, it is," my mom agreed, taking in the topic change eagerly, matching the same forced cheerful tone. "Filipino hot dogs are pretty different from regular hot dogs because they're bright red. Some even have cheese inside it. We call hotdogs with egg and garlic fried rice hotsilog. At children's birthday parties, we would eat hotdogs and marshmallows on sticks."

"Wow, that's so cool and- Wait, seriously? That actually sounds really good," Jordan said. "Do you toast the marshmallows too? Can I get some in some store here in the city? Filipinos really do like sweet things..."

"Saying Filipinos have a sweet tooth is an understatement," I admitted halfheartedly.

Declan slightly poked Bennett's shoulder and we all grew more worried when he didn't react to it.

In an attempt to bring Bennett back, my dad asked, "You know, it's funny. Your last name Frazier sounds exactly like the name of the family-owned business, Fraiz Corp."

My eyes widened at the remark. I mouthed him to stop as I motioned my hand across my throat for him to stop talking. I looked at Declan who looked confused about what to do while Jordan was still helping himself to eat more food.

"Just imagine they control so many industries in this country but their headquarters are in this city?" He asked my mom. "Real estate, healthcare, finance, insurance, legal, retail."

My mom sighed. "At this rate, they might even buy out RainForest, you know, the e-commerce delivery site, or maybe even PineApple- they can do a lot going into the tech industry. The hospitals are due for a tech update."

"Anyway, I heard that their son is supposed to inherit it all," my dad said, shaking his head. "Nepotism at its finest. Fraiz Corp is just another company that's a prime example of political corruption. You wouldn't believe how many rumors circle the company but never go anywhere since they probably buy out the media."

"While I agree our company practices some nepotism," Bennett explained, "I can assure you that I have been raised to meet the demands the title holds. If that weren't the case, I would have never been set to inherit it. However, I also believe that one should be hired for their skills."

"Exactly," my dad agreed in exasperation. "Everything nowadays depends on connections. And sure, it makes sense, but these people still need to have the background and experience to earn those positions and these practices overlook people who deserve it. Studies show that nepotism hinders competition and innovation- Wait, did you say 'our'?"

"Yes," Bennett said with a curt nod. "Back to your other comment, I also agree that people should be hired based on their competence, but how will-"

"Wait no," my dad cut in, pausing for a moment before asking hesitantly, "Are you saying that... That you're actually a Frazier, the Frazier whose family owns Fraiz Corp? Wait, the son is supposed to still be in high school, are you... him?"

"Yes, for both of your questions," Bennett said, his tone almost tired. "Seeing that you brought this conversation up, I thought you already knew. As I was saying, I'm interested in hearing more about what we're talking about. Seeing that nepotism hinders a company's potential then-"

"Please don't fire me."

"Dad!" I exclaimed in disbelief.

Bennett frowned. "I'm sorry?" He asked.

He looked distraught. "I've been working at AG Financial for years, been promoted to your main branch as a financial analyst," he told Bennett. "I'm proud to work there and everything I just said was a joke, you know, harmless fun. I didn't mean anything about it."

My mom put a hand over her mouth. "I made food for the person who owns my job. I love being a nurse and I don't want to stop working there. Now he even hates Filipinos and our spaghetti because of me..."

"Mom stop!" I told her.

She looked at me mortified. "Naomi, why didn't you tell me I was going to cook for him? What if I made him eat dinuguan or balut, and oh God, there's puto on the table." She put her face in her hands. "I'm going to lose my job!"

Bennett looked at me, the confusion clear on his face. "You didn't tell me both of your parents worked for my father's company."

"Probably because I didn't think you'd ever find out and would ever bring it up into conversation," I replied.

As my parents spiraled down into hysteria at the thought of losing their jobs, Jordan said brightly, "So who's up for dessert?"

-

Dinner ended earlier than was expected. At Jordan's request, we put some of the leftovers in tupperware. Bennett got twice the amount and a large portion of the flan. I was chosen to see the three of them out while my parents were in the kitchen discussing our family's possible future if they were both unemployed. I leaned against the wall as I watched the three of them put back their shoes on.

"I wanted to help wash the dishes," Bennett told me. "But your mother wouldn't even let me help clear the table."

"If it makes you feel any better, you won the nonexistent favoritism competition by a landslide," I offered.

"More like by default," Jordan said dryly. "He didn't even work for it. All he did was drop his name. Talk about nepotism."

"Do you even know what nepotism means?" I asked.

"At least I didn't tell some Hawaiians how much I love Hawaiian pizza," Declan said with a snort. "And pineapple on pizza is a combination that should not exist."

"I agree," Bennett told him.

"Well I like it and I'm a quarter Hawaiian," I said before fistbumping Jordan.

"Your mom was nice enough to re-treat our scrapes," Declan told me.

"I think it was to show Bennett how good of a nurse she is and shouldn't be fired from her job," I admitted.

"Even if I could fire someone, I wouldn't just because of that," Bennett said. "Your father was being honest and your mother is a great cook."

"I'll be sure to tell them that once they start thinking clearly again," I said with a light chuckle.

"You think we passed the test, Declan?" I asked him. "With your mom probably going to check in with how the night went?"

He gave me a slight shrug. "It could've gone worse. But anything is better if you come in with low expectations."

"Did I really blow it with the y'know?" Jordan asked.

"Which one: ate, puto, or Hawaiian pizza?"

"Please stop saying that word so casually," Declan told me. "It's really hard hearing you say that."

"All of them?" Jordan decided.

I smiled at him. "Don't worry. I think you're all in good graces with my parents. I'll text you when they change their mind."

"Ha ha," Jordan said deadpanned.

"I'll see you guys later," I said, opening the door. "Have a good week off."

"Suspension never sounded so good," Jordan remarked as he passed the door. "Let's study for our physics test later."

As he walked out next, Declan nodded to me. "Text me when you want to buy the ukuleles. I can still give you the friend discount."

Finally, Bennett was about to leave when he stopped. He stared out in front of him but told me, "We need to continue working on our research project." Bennett's eyebrows furrowed together. "I..." He faltered then turned to look at me. "We need to talk."

I was quiet for a moment before giving him a slight nod. "Yeah, we need to talk."

~

I think I saw a comment saying they don't find having a school with different ethnicities believable. Dartwell is based on my old high school down to the actual physical layout. I'm from Los Angeles, California so yeah we're diverse and my school has, in fact, all of the ethnicities I have introduced (and yes British too). So yeah, high diversity, low to middle class. The only difference is that while Dartwell has a good athletics program and low grade average, it's the exact opposite for my school.

Alright. I have to confess something. So you know the notable Team Rocket Duo Jesse and James? Yeah, I named the principal and vice-principal Jessica and James after them. Fun facts: Larsson is a Swedish surname and Kaminski is a Polish surname. Since it's set in America, a lot of characters will be of a country's descent rather than recently immigrated from there. Also like in my high school, the principal and vice-principal were also white and I decided to show the same in BG.

I love the movie Moana and thought that line I quoted was a bit fitting for this chapter. Plus it's a bonus it's about Polynesian culture and we have Naomi who's half Hawaiian-Filipino. I know of the debate in regards to them, but the solidarity should always stand in the end. Also I imagine Naomi to kind of look like Auli'i Cravalho- she's so pretty.

I really love writing the Raymond and Naomi banter especially since she's more snappy and reactive with Raymond. But honestly, the whole main office scene showing the parents (and one secretary) was really fun for me. Also, we get to see Delilah much earlier in the book compared to TGGBB as well as slightly older. I felt having a younger baby who can kind of talk would be more fun to write into this story. Don't worry, we'll see our darling Delilah more later.

Also, I'm writing this before I see the comments, but I actually put a lot of myself into Naomi's mom. I thought, okay how would I react if my daughter did this? And you already know how I am, just imagine me as a parent now.

Alright, alright, alright. The best type of white rice: jasmine rice. Basmati rice is good with Indian food but I can eat jasmine rice every day for anything.

I had so much fun creating the menu for this dinner. However, I also created this collage so you can have a visual aid for the food. You should already know how much I love food and seeing that I introduced some Filipino and Hawaiian food AS WELL AS introducing different ethnicities through characters, I will be showcasing a lot more food too! I want to make sure to share food that I myself have eaten before which will be a range of stuff given I live in Los Angeles.

Oh and here's a collage of the outfits the four wore for the dinner. They color code~

___

No character profile this chapter but here are some bloopers and behind the scenes!

Jordan: (Yawns and rubs his eye tiredly before looking down at his hand) Aw man! I just wiped off the makeup for the bruise!

Director Rubix: (Sighs) Take five everyone while they redo his makeup. I need a cup of coffee...

--

[Vice Principal Kaminski accidentally trips as he power walks behind Principal Larsson. The cast and crew stifle laughter as someone checks on him.]

--

Naomi: (Raises hand) What if Naomi finds a textbook and throws it at Raymond during their banter?

Raymond: (Dryly) I think the last fight scene made you discover your sadism.

Naomi: (Innocently) I just think it's fitting for Naomi's character.

[The two of them stick their tongues out playfully and laugh.]

--

[Two students walk into the main office for an errand from their teacher. They slightly eye the students sitting there.]

Student One: (Whispers) Why is Ray and some other guys sitting here with the transfers? They look like they got into the fight.

Student Two: (Whispers) Wait, why is Naomi with them?

Student One: (Whispers) Do you think it's somehow related to that mess in the hall the janitor was cleaning up? You know, with all the water?

--

[Jordan's mom scolding him in French: English translation, censored]

Jordan's mom: What were you thinking! Do you know how I found out you're in the principal's office? I was away from my desk and my coworker received the call for me! And look, you dragged your friends here too, and some random girl? Look at the bruises and cuts on your face! Did you at least throw in a couple of good punches? The other kid better look worse than you or you're going to be in more trouble than you already are! I'm getting gray hairs and wrinkles because of you, my spoiled brat of a son. Do you even know how hard it was to power walk angrily in these heels? Unbelievable!

--

[When Naomi's mom explains the Filipino and Hawaiian honorific system.]

Jordan: (Thinking) I wanna call them Auntie and Uncle.

Declan: (Thinking) Tita and Tito kinda sounds like Tia and Tio in Spanish.

Bennett: ...

Bennett: (Thinking) I don't know what to call them. And Naomi's mom said she doesn't like to be called Mrs. Lorraine. Maybe I can avoid saying anything if I just don't talk.

--

[When Naomi's parents are washing the dishes in silence.]

Naomi's Mom: (Thinking) Bennett probably eats five Michelin star meals from his personal chef. What if I offended him with my cooking?

Naomi's Dad: (Thinking) Maybe I should save face and resign from my job before they fire me. Then I wouldn't be blacklisted and can find another job.

---

Bye~

Rubix