CHAPTER 4: RIPPLE
1106 Words
Saturday mornings are quiet. No school bells, no hallway crowds, just the distant hum of tricycles and the occasional rooster that doesn’t understand weekends exist. I wake up at 7:30 anyway—habit. Lie in bed for ten minutes staring at the ceiling fan spinning slow circles, replaying Thursday and Friday like a looped video.
The physics lab. The roof deck. Reagan’s almost-smile. His voice saying “noted” like it carried weight. Hiro’s wave in the hallway yesterday—bright, easy, unchanged. I waved back. Felt nothing new.
I roll out of bed. Pull on shorts and an old band shirt. Head to the kitchen. Mom’s already frying danggit, the smell sharp and salty. Dad’s reading the newspaper at the table, coffee steaming.
“You’re up early,” Mom says without turning. “No sleeping in?”
“Brain won’t let me.”
She glances over her shoulder. “That boy again?”
“Which one?”
She laughs softly. “The one who makes you stare at walls.”
I don’t answer. Grab a plate. Sit. Eat in silence while Dad folds the paper and looks at me over his glasses.
“Exams coming?”
“Always.”
He nods. “Don’t burn out.”
I nod back. Finish breakfast fast. Head to my room. Open my laptop. Pull up the physics data from yesterday. Graph it again. Cleaner lines this time. Deliberate.
My phone buzzes.
Andra:
Group chat. Hiro added me and three others from debate.
Hiro: Weekend study sesh? My place. Pool + notes. Bring food if u want lol
Andra: I’m in. Zhyra?
I stare at the screen.
Another buzz. Private message from
Andra:
You okay? You’ve been quiet since yesterday.
I type back.
Me:
Yeah. Just thinking.
Andra:
About?
Me:
Nothing important.
Andra:
Liar.
I set the phone down. Look out the window. The sun is already high, heat shimmering off the roof across the street.
I type to the group.
Me: Sure. What time?
Hiro replies instantly:
2pm. Bring ur brain. We’ll handle the rest
I close the chat.
Spend the morning reviewing notes. Calculus. Physics. A little literature for next week’s essay. My handwriting stays light. No gripping. No fighting the page.
At 1:30 I change—simple white shirt, denim shorts, sneakers. Pack my backpack: notebook, pens, water bottle, extra shirt in case the pool happens. Tell Mom I’m going to a friend’s for study group. She raises an eyebrow but doesn’t ask questions.
The tricycle ride to Hiro’s subdivision takes twenty minutes. The driver knows me—waves when I get off. I walk the last block. Big houses. Gated. Palm trees lining the street. Hiro’s gate is open.
I step in.
Music drifts from the backyard. Laughter. Splashing.
Andra spots me first. Runs over in a bikini top and shorts, wet hair dripping.
“You came!”
“Promised.”
She hugs me quick—cold water on my arms. “Hiro’s inside getting drinks. Come.”
We head to the pool area. Four others from debate are already there—two boys tossing a volleyball, one girl scrolling on her phone on a lounge chair. Hiro emerges from the sliding doors carrying a tray of iced tea and chips.
“Zhyra!” He grins. Dimple flashes. “You made it.”
“Yeah.”
He sets the tray down. “Grab a drink. We’re doing notes in a bit. Or swimming first. Your call.”
I take a glass. Sip. Cold. Sweet.
We settle on the lounge chairs. Notes come out. Debate topics. Physics problems. Someone asks about the pendulum data. I explain my graph. Clean. Precise.
Hiro listens. Nods. Smiles. “You’re scary good at this.”
I shrug. “Practice.”
He leans closer. “Hey… can we talk later? Just us?”
My stomach flips once. Small. Familiar.
“Sure.”
The afternoon drifts. Swimming happens. I don’t join right away—sit on the edge, feet in the water. Watch everyone. Andra splashes Hiro. He splashes back. Laughter echoes.
lemme
My phone buzzes in my bag.
I ignore it at first.
Then curiosity wins.
Pull it out.
Unknown number.
Unknown: Pool party?
I stare at the screen.
How did he get my number?
I type back.
Who is this?
Three dots.
Unknown number:
Ty.
My pulse jumps.
Me:
How?
Unknown number:
Andra gave it to Hiro. Hiro gave it to me.
I glance across the pool. Hiro is laughing at something Andra said. No phone in his hand.
I type.
Me:
Why?
Unknown number:
Needed to ask something.
Ask.
Unknown number:
You’re at Nakamura’s.
Statement. Not question.
Me:
Yes.
A pause. Longer.
Unknown number:
Enjoy.
That’s it.
No follow-up.
I set the phone down. Heart beating too loud.
Andra swims over. “Who was that?”
“No one.”
She narrows her eyes. “Liar.”
I slip into the water to avoid answering.
The rest of the afternoon is easy. Notes. Jokes. Swimming. Hiro pulls me aside near the end—by the pool house, away from the others.
“Hey,” he says. Voice softer. “I’ve been meaning to say… I like hanging out with you. Like, more than group stuff.”
I look at him. Bright eyes. Easy smile. Safe.
“I know.”
He rubs the back of his neck. “So… would you maybe want to—”
My phone buzzes again.
I glance down.
Reagan:
Tell Nakamura I said hi.
I look back at Hiro.
He’s waiting.
I feel the words form. Polite. Kind. Honest.
“I think… I need time to think about it.”
His smile falters. Just a little. Then recovers.
“Okay. No pressure.”
We walk back to the group.
The sun starts dropping. People start leaving. I say goodbye. Hug Andra. Wave at Hiro.
He watches me go. Smile still there. But smaller.
The tricycle ride home is quiet. Streetlights flickering on. Wind cool now.
My phone buzzes one more time.
Reagan:
You didn’t answer.
I type back.
Me:
Hi back.
Three dots.
Reagan:
Good.
I pocket the phone.
Smile small. Private.
The gap feels different tonight.
Not smaller.
Not bigger.
Just… clearer.
Like the line between us isn’t straight anymore.
It’s bending.
And maybe—just maybe—I’m not the only one noticing.
I get home. Shower. Lie in bed.
Stare at the ceiling fan again.
Think about Hiro’s smile.
Think about Reagan’s text.
Think about the way “good” felt like more than a word.
I close my eyes.
The weekend isn’t over yet.
But something else is starting.
Quiet.
Deliberate.
Dangerous
- Writer
