Chapter 1 – The New Student

That morning, Bandung was covered in a thin layer of mist. The air felt cool, not cold enough to sting, but enough to make every breath feel a little deeper as I stepped down from the public minibus in front of the school gate.

Today was the first day of school after the long holiday.

Harapan Muda High School was already crowded. Students were gathering in small groups, laughing and calling out to friends they hadn’t seen for weeks. Their voices mixed with the sound of footsteps and the rustling of bags, filling the morning air with noise and excitement.

I walked past them quietly, adjusting the strap of my bag on my shoulder.

This school was already familiar to me. I had studied here for years. I knew which staircase was always crowded in the morning, which corridor students preferred to walk through, and how the school bell sometimes rang a little later than it should.

Still, the first day after a long break always felt different.

Like everything was starting again from the beginning.

This semester, I was officially a tenth grader.

In front of the classroom door, a large sheet of paper was taped to the wall. The list of students for the new class arrangement. Several students had already gathered around it, pushing slightly closer to find their names.

I joined them.

My eyes moved slowly across the list.

Some names were familiar. Others were completely new.

Harapan Muda was a national-plus school. Every year, new students transferred here from other schools to prepare for the Cambridge exams.

Grade ten was the final year before those exams.

That was why many students transferred here.

This year there were only two classes: 10A and 10B.

I carefully scanned the list until I finally found my name.

Hilda Hadinata.

Number twelve.

Class 10A.

I stared at it for a few seconds just to make sure I had read it correctly.

Then I stepped back, giving space for the other students behind me.

That was when it happened.

I accidentally stepped on someone’s foot.

“Ah!”

The boy behind me exclaimed loudly.

I quickly turned around.

He was tall, with a straight posture. His face looked unfamiliar. I was sure I had never seen him at this school before.

“Careful,” he whispered.

I blinked in surprise.

Strangely, he didn’t sound angry at all.

Some of the students nearby started laughing quietly, whispering to each other.

For a moment, I just stood there without saying anything.

As usual.

My brain was always a little slow to react.

“Sorry,” I finally said.

A little too late.

Why was I always like this?

Some of my classmates liked to tease me by calling me slow thinker. I often realized things a few seconds later than everyone else.

The boy didn’t say anything more. He simply looked back at the name list on the door, as if the incident wasn’t important.

I stood beside him for a few seconds.

For some reason, I found myself looking at him again.

Then I suddenly realized I had been staring too long.

Embarrassed, I quickly turned around and entered the classroom.

The room was still half empty. Some students had already taken their seats and were chatting with friends. Laughter filled the room as they talked about their holidays.

I walked slowly between the rows of desks until I found an empty seat.

I sat down.

And like usual, no one sat beside me.

That wasn’t really surprising.

I had always been a little awkward when it came to making friends. I didn’t really have a close friend in class. Sometimes I didn’t even know how to start a conversation.

When people talked too fast, it took me longer to understand what they meant.

Maybe that was why I seemed different.

Or maybe I was just too quiet.

I took a new textbook out of my bag.

To be honest, I wasn’t really reading it.

I was just pretending to be busy.

Sometimes pretending to read felt easier than trying to join someone else’s conversation.

A few minutes later, the bell rang.

The sound made several students quickly return to their seats.

The classroom door opened.

The same boy whose foot I had stepped on earlier walked in.

But he wasn’t alone.

Two girls were walking beside him.

Monika and Karen.

They were among the most popular girls in our school. Almost everyone knew them. They always seemed confident, always surrounded by friends, always at the center of attention.

They walked with the boy as if they had already known him for a long time.

Some students immediately started whispering.

The boy sat down at one of the desks in the middle row while Monika and Karen continued chatting beside him.

A moment later, Mrs. Malaya entered the classroom.

I knew her.

She used to teach English when I was in seventh grade.

Now she was our homeroom teacher.

Mrs. Malaya opened the attendance list in her hand and began calling our names one by one.

After finishing, she looked around the room.

“We’re going to rearrange the seats,” she said.

Several students groaned softly.

I didn’t really mind.

But a few minutes later, something unexpected happened.

“Darren Gunawan,” Mrs. Malaya called.

The boy raised his hand.

“Please move to the seat next to Hilda.”

My head lifted immediately.

Next to me?

Monika, who had been standing near Darren’s desk, looked slightly disappointed.

But she didn’t say anything.

Darren picked up his bag and walked toward my desk.

I pretended not to notice.

He pulled the empty chair beside me and sat down.

“Hi,” he said.

I wasn’t sure whether he sounded friendly or if he was holding back a laugh.

Maybe he still remembered the incident earlier when I stepped on his foot.

I didn’t know whether I should smile.

My heart suddenly started beating faster.

I took a deep breath.

Not because I was annoyed.

I was just… very awkward.

The two boys sitting in front of us, Leonel and Arko, immediately turned around.

“Hey Darren! Nice that you’re sitting near us,” Arko said enthusiastically.

“You still like singing, right?” Leonel added.

I looked at the three of them quietly.

Just listening.

“Darren, you’re still in Arha Band, right?” Arko asked again.

My mind tried to process what they were saying.

Band?

Singer?

I didn’t really follow Indonesian music. The name Arha Band meant nothing to me.

And Darren Gunawan?

Who exactly was he?

Questions began forming in my head.

Before their conversation could continue, Mrs. Malaya spoke from the front of the class.

“Leonel, Arko, you can continue that conversation during break time. Now we’re starting the lesson.”

Both of them quickly turned forward.

The class became quiet as the lesson began.

But from time to time, I found myself stealing glances at Darren.

He was handsome.

Very handsome.

More handsome than most people I had ever seen.

And somehow, Darren noticed.

He turned his head slightly.

Then he smiled.

I didn’t know if that smile was friendly.

Or simply because now, I was his seatmate.

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