The Boy I Crashed Into

Sophia's POV My alarm had been screaming at me for ten minutes before I finally slapped it silent. I stretched, checked my phone, and groaned. Drama rehearsal after school today, and I still had props to finish. There was no time to waste. I headed to the bathroom, splashed through a quick bath, the cool water waking me up fast. The soap smelled like the jasmine mum bought from the market yesterday. I dried off, pulled on my uniform, tied my hair back, and immediately went downstairs. Downstairs, Mum was already in the kitchen, humming while flipping pancakes. The smell filled our apartment. She looked up when I walked in, smiling that worried-mum smile she’s had since Dad’s transfer. “Sit down, Sophia, and eat your pancakes while it’s hot,” she said, sliding a plate toward me. “You were up late fixing those paper lotuses again?” I sat and tore off a piece of pancake. “I had to, Mum. The play is in two weeks, and half the props got ruined in the last rain. Mrs. Kapoor will kill me if I’m late today.” Mum poured orange juice into my cup, her bangles clinking. “You’re always rushing somewhere, baby. I know settling into a new school while juggling the play and magazine work isn't easy, but try to slow down a little. How’s everything going? Made any real friends yet?” I shrugged, taking a sip. “Riya’s good. She lives near that factory we talked about. Her little brother’s cough is getting worse. I’m trying to help with the school magazine story on the pollution.” Mum’s face tightened. “Sophia, be careful. Your father said that factory has connections. Don’t go poking around and making trouble. We just got here. Focus on studies and the play.” “I’m not poking,” I said quickly. “Just… documenting. Someone has to.” I finished the last bite, grabbed my bag, and stood up. “I’ll be late if I don’t leave now. Love you, Mum.” She sighed but kissed my forehead. “Love you too. Take the raincoat. And no running in the corridors!” I pulled on my yellow raincoat, hugged her quickly, and dashed out. The rain was already heavy. By the time I reached school, it was pounding the iron roof like a drum. The third bell was about to ring. Students crowded the auditorium entrance, trying to stay dry. I spotted a narrow path and pushed forward, props box clutched tight. I rushed down the staircase, clutching the drama props box. “Please make way, I can’t be late for this!” Right, left, left again—then I crashed straight into someone. The corner of my box slammed into his chest. There was a sharp c***k. His camera slipped and hit the wet floor, glass scattering everywhere. I yanked my hood back. The boy crouched down, picking up pieces of the broken lens. His jaw was tight, but he stayed calm. “I’m sorry,” I said, kneeling beside him. “How sorry?” he asked, not looking up. “I have money,” I offered, but all I pulled from my pocket was a soggy playbill. “Or I can help you find a secondhand lens. I know a camera shop downtown.” “It doesn’t open on Fridays,” he cut in. “And you crashed into me, not just my camera.” I bit my lip. Then I reached for the camera before he could stop me. “Wait, don’t move.” I switched it to playback. The last photo glowed on the screen—my own startled face in the rain. Behind me, beyond the school wall, that factory chimney poured out pale yellow smoke. I stared at it. This was exactly what we needed for the school magazine’s environmental section. “This shot is mine now,” I whispered, holding the camera close. “I’ll get you a new lens, I promise. But this picture I can’t give back. I need it.” He looked at me, surprised. “Of what use exactly?” “That smokestack’s been running twelve hours a day,” I said. “Nobody has photographed it.” He reached for the camera. His fingers brushed mine. For a second, I thought he’d fight me for it. “Do what you want,” he said finally. He turned and walked toward the side exit. I stayed there a moment longer, rain dripping from my coat. A gold-painted petal from my prop box stuck to my shoe, the color already fading. Something about that moment felt like the start of something bigger. --- Later in class, I slid into my seat, still buzzing from the morning crash. Riya was already there, doodling in her notebook beside me. She looked up as soon as I dropped my bag. “Sophia! You look like you ran through a storm. What happened? You’re never this late to homeroom.” I leaned in, keeping my voice low. “You won’t believe it. I was rushing to rehearsal with the props box and literally crashed into this guy near the auditorium. Smashed his camera completely. Glass everywhere. I felt awful, but then I saw the last photo on it — that factory chimney spitting smoke right behind me. It’s perfect for the magazine story.” Riya’s eyes widened. “No way. Did he freak out? What did he say?” “He was super calm about the broken lens, but when I told him I needed the photo, he got tense. Said something about staying out of it. I promised to replace the lens, though. I feel bad, but that picture could really help us.” Before Riya could reply, the teacher walked in and started calling names for a quick group assignment. “Sophia and Luca, you’re paired with Riya for the discussion. Move your desks together.” The boy from the morning stepped over from the next row. It was him. Same calm expression, same camera lanyard now empty around his neck. He looked at me and paused, recognition hitting both of us at once. Riya glanced between us, grinning. “Wait, this is the guy?” I cleared my throat and stuck out my hand first. “I’m Sophia. Sorry again about your camera earlier.” He shook my hand briefly, his grip steady. “Luca. And yeah… I remember.” Riya laughed softly beside me. “This is going to be an interesting group project.”