The moment I pressed play, my stomach churned. There he was, with a lean body and messy hair I knew, wearing a black training suit jacket, his everyday style. Behind him or outside is snowy, the sound of people chatting inside. A shelf filled with glass snow globes of various sizes stood there. His hand fiddled with one of the snow globes, then gripped it tightly and put it in his bag.
God.
I shook my head. My brain refused to match this Decker with the one who teased me in Minecraft, who casually played with his phone and sneaked glance at me during the fan sign.
It felt wrong, as if it had to be fake.
I paused the video, my heart racing louder than the background noise. I played it again, again, and again. Then I realized something.
The date was 12/28/2023, which means both he and I had still been in middle school.
I call Elle again.
“Did you watch it?” Elle jumped right in.
My face tightens. “... Yeah … but it’s an old video. Maybe he’s changed?” I asked, my voice was shaky.
“No, Clim, people who steal like that have a psychological problem, whether it’s a sickness or antisocial traits, and that doesn’t just go away. It can relapse anytime. You should never date someone like him, God forbid.”
“Hey, I can’t believe you. I need to ask him directly,” I said, opening my laptop.
“Are you crazy? That’s really rude.”
“Well, we’re rude already talking about him behind his back. If we really wanna know the truth, let’s just ask him.”
“Petra, why are you so stubborn? It’s clear that he stole, that’s a red flag. You should stay away from him.”
“But, Elle, he isn’t like that. I know him.”
“It’s because he’s hunting prey. People like that are cold-blooded. They don’t care about your feelings.”
“You’ve been brainwashed, Elle,” I snapped.
“In this situation, who wouldn’t be? Even the school’s X account commented on the video, saying Decker would clarify.”
“To me, Elle, that’s not important.”
“What the hell, kid,” she muttered confusedly.
Since high school, I’ve felt Elle isn’t as eager to be around me. The way she talks about Decker shows her intentions clearly—she’s trying to pit us against each other and ruin my feelings towards him.
“You’ve changed, Elle. Really changed.”
“What do you mean? You gonna start drama again?”
I lifted my head, like I’d just spotted something or got an idea. There it is, her tone rising. She’s challenging me now.
“You started the drama,” I fired back.
“I’m telling the truth.”
“But you know I love him, Elle. And you say it right to my face, like you enjoy watching me suffer.”
“You’re talking nonsense.”
“You’ve never listened to me. Not even back in middle school. I’m only realizing it now!”
“You just think the world revolves around you, and that’s why you can’t feel for anyone else.”
“How dare you!” I slam my hands on dressing table.
Elle hangs up.
My jaw locks tight. I grab my hair with both hands; my elbows pressed to the dressing table.
*
It’s a school morning, but I’m still in a white T-shirt, white joggers, hair in ponytail—wandering around the house looking for socks. My phone buzzes.
It’s Elle’s dad:
Petra, Elle’s is in a bad mood and doesn’t want company. I’ll take you to school again when she’s fine.
I grab my socks and text back, bluntly: Thanks for the rides, but honestly, the smell in your car makes me nauseous. I’d rather walk and get fresh air.
Fair enough, I think.
My mom slips my arms into the sleeves of a dark green track jacket with bright yellow panels, refusing to let me freeze.
I head out, shoes on, half-jogging down the street.
By the time I get to class, the boys are lounging in the middle rows, some perched on desks.
“Hey, Clim!” they greet, and I fist-bump them one by one.
“Still hanging out? Did you even study?” I asked, flipping through my notebook.
“Study for what? We don’t have a test.”
“Oh, right.” I blink. “Then why’s everyone reading?”
“It’s The Stranger. Sharma’s assignment.”
I groan. “Didn’t read it.” My eyes drift to Elle’s desk at the back. She has the novel.
“Elle, can I—”
She scoots away before I finish.
I slump back to my seat, pull out my brown canvas tote, and open my laptop. Reading The Stranger’s summary from SparkNotes will save me.
Before I’m halfway through, Mrs. Sharma walks in. “Good morning, class.”
She’s the soft-spoken type—Indian descent, hair in a neat bun, floral white dress under a light brown cardigan. The kind of teacher whose kindness makes you feel guilty for not doing the homework.
She opens her copy of The Stranger, and writes on the board:
I opened myself to the gentle indifference of the world. —Albert Camus
“I’m sure you’ve all read the book. Let’s start with your interpretations. Petra Mellark?”
The room bursts into laughter, inside joke, wrong name.
“It’s Petra Edley,” I say, “and I think it means we should embrace the world’s kindness.”
She studies the quote again. “Hmm … not quite, but I’ll note your participation. Elle?”
“My name is Elle Bellington. Camus here refers to his character Meursault. He is a typical person who passively accepts and follows the flow. That is why he says he is gently indifferent because the world is essentially neutral, and that’s the exactly life Meursault will face.”
Mrs. Sharma’s eyes brighten, “Beautifully put, Elle.”
I stare at my desk, feeling that familiar twist in my stomach. Literature feels like a trap, every word waiting to be dissected, reassembled, questioned. I prefer algebra. At least numbers keep their promises.
“Remember,” Sharma says, “Meursault is a laid-back person, not wanting much, and a bit apathetic. We all know what’s been going viral lately. If you think critically, actually, that situation is very similar."
"My name is Tobias Sweeney. I’d like to ask, why can you say it’s very similar?"
"Yeah, ma’am! We don’t know the whole story; we only watched the video!"
"We’re being told to read this book while outside there’s a problem that’s similar — is that intentional?" asked Ryleigh.
“Okay, calm down, class. I’m not here to condemn anyone. But when I see a situation involving someone as well-known as he is, I can’t ignore the damage. And sometimes, it’s about influence. About who holds the power in a friendship.” She pivots back to the board. “Now, let’s connect the book to real-world issues.”