C.C. scanned the towering bookshelf he and Ace were pressed behind, its shadow dwarfing even him. Ace stayed low, crouched near the carpet, peeking around the edge just enough to keep Miss Finch in sight. The librarian sat stiff-backed at her desk, eyes glued to her computer screen, fingers tapping with mechanical irritation.

  “I reckon we topple it over,” C.C. muttered, hands settling on his hips as the idea took shape in his head. He could already picture it - books crashing, noise echoing, chaos.

  Ace snapped his head around. “You can’t be serious. We need a distraction, not a demolition,” he whispered harshly.

  C.C. reached out and pulled a thick, hardback from the shelf, testing its weight as he bounced it between his palms. “Alright then. What about this? We throw a book across the room, draw her attention away from the door.”

  “No,” Ace hissed instantly. “That’s worse.”

  C.C. frowned. “Ace, mate, brother, you’re lucky you’re in the presence of a mind like this one. Einstein type of calcumalations and Pythagoras’ laws of gravity. We’re already in deep. Whatever we do, it needs to be loud.”

  “How are you in the same classes as me? I’m friends with a moron.” Ace breathed in disbelief, irritation creeping into his voice despite the whisper. C.C. always threw ideas around just to have a plan, not caring whether it would actually work. They were the only two students in the library. And a bookshelf crashing to the floor couldn’t exactly be blamed on the wind.

  Ace’s eyes drifted upward as he scanned the shelf. That’s when he noticed the screws, one at each end. His breathing slowed and his heart skipped a beat as he realised that he may just have a plan after all.

  “What if Miss Finch caused the distraction for us?” Ace murmured, more to himself than anything, but C.C. heard him.

  C.C. snorted. “Yeah, nice one Sherlock. Wait for her to receive a call from Vogue Magazine and wait for her to hurry off? Heaps better than my plan.” He quietly chuckled as he slid the book back into place, the shelf dipping ever so slightly under the weight.

  Ace ignored him.

  “Not the whole bookshelf. Just one shelf,” Ace said quietly. “These aren’t bolted in the way you think. They’re cut to fit. Tight enough that friction keeps them in place. The screws just stop them from sliding when they’re carrying weight.”

  He tapped the edge of the shelf with his knuckle, examining its structural integrity.

  “If we take the screws out, it’ll still hold. For a while. We stack books onto it until it’s right at its limit - balanced, but barely.”

  C.C. frowned. “And then?”

  “Then we ask Miss Finch to help put one book back,” Ace said. “She adds the final bit of weight. The shelf slips. Everything comes down.”

  Ace’s eyes flicked towards the librarian’s desk.

  “Looks like an accident. Sounds like chaos.”

  “And gives us our window. The straw that broke the camel’s back. Heard that from my mom a few times,” C.C. murmured, grinning.

  The two boys stared at each other, frozen somewhere between disbelief and excitement. For a moment, neither of them spoke, as if talking now might break whatever fragile courage they’d scraped together. Books littered the floor around them in messy piles, some stacked neatly, others splayed open where they’d fallen. In front of them stood the bookshelf, the empty slot gaping like a missing tooth.

  C.C. crept closer, lowering himself to inspect the side of the shelf. He squinted at the small metal screws embedded at either end, then glanced back at Ace. “Uh…” C.C. whispered. “You got a screwdriver?”

  Ace blinked. Then he slowly turned in a full circle, scanning the library as if one might materialise out of thin air. Chairs. Books. Nothing even remotely helpful.

  “…No,” he muttered. He stepped carefully over the piles of books and hurried back to his bag, C.C. right behind him. In one swift motion, Ace dumped his pencil case upside down onto the table. Pens clattered. Pencils rolled. Erasers bounced across the surface. They sifted through the mess with growing urgency.

  “Come on, come on…” C.C. whispered. Rummaging for a moment, he snatched Ace’s scissors and bolted back to the shelf, crouching low as he jammed one blade into the screwhead and twisted. The metal slipped immediately, the scissors skidding, biting into the wood instead. Ace stayed behind, heart hammering as he dug through the remaining stationery. Highlighters. A ruler. Sticky notes. His fingers brushed plastic. A geometry kit.

  He snapped it open. Protractors. Dividers. A compass. Ace’s eyes widened. He grabbed it and rushed back to the shelf, dropping to his knees opposite C.C.

  “Is it working?” Ace whispered, glancing nervously towards the librarian’s desk.

  “Barely,” C.C. muttered. He tried again, jaw clenched. The scissors slipped, carving fresh scratches into the wood. Tiny chips flaked off and dusted the carpet. Trying again, they pierced C.C’s thumb shallowly.

  “Fuck! I fingerpaint with that.” C.C. muffled as he brought his thumb to his mouth.

  Ace pressed the compass he took from his geometry kit into the screw.

  Too sharp.

  “Damn it,” he breathed.

  Without thinking, he pinched the metal tip and snapped it clean off. Pain flared through his fingers, but he barely noticed. He pressed the flattened edge into the screw and twisted. As it caught onto the screw, Ace froze. Then the screw turned. His breath hitched. “C.C.”

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  “What?”

  “It’s working.”

  Both boys worked in tense silence, every small click of metal sounding impossibly loud in the still library. Their shoulders were tight, breaths shallow, eyes flicking up every few seconds to make sure Miss Finch hadn’t noticed.

  Then finally, the first screw came free. Then the second. They let them fall, watching as the tiny pieces bounced once against the carpet before C.C. nudged them away with his shoe. They stood back, staring at the shelf like they’d just disarmed a bomb.

  For a second, neither of them moved. Then C.C. rubbed his hands together, a grin tugging at his lips.

  “Alright,” he whispered. “Let’s load it.” He dropped to the floor and dragged a heavy stack of books towards him, lifting them one at a time and placing them carefully onto the shelf. Each book was set down with painstaking precision. Ace watched, impressed and slightly unnerved. The last time he’d seen C.C. this careful was during a Jenga match that had ended in tears.

  As the weight built, the shelf dipped, and a faint creak echoed. Both boys froze.

  C.C. waited. Counted silently, then continued. By the time most of the books were back in place, the shelf leaned just enough to be noticeable, groaning softly under the strain. C.C. stood, holding the final piece - the massive Oxford Dictionary and Thesaurus. Its sheer weight made his arms ache.

  He looked at Ace.

  “This is it,” he whispered. “I’ll set the bait. You pack up and meet me at the door when you hear the crash. Got it?”

  Ace nodded, pulse racing.

  He hurried back to his desk, shoving his stationery into his pencil case with trembling hands. He slung his bag over his shoulder and slipped through the shelves, forcing his breathing to slow as he listened.

  C.C.’s voice drifted faintly through the library.

  “How’s it going, sweetcheeks?” C.C. started, leaning against the front of the desk seductively. “Uh… I was using this for my math homework, but I’m not really sure where I picked it up from.”

  Ace held his breath.

  “Not you again.” Miss Finch groaned, looking up at him in a reluctant and weary manner. “And that’s evidently a dictionary, I don’t know what kind of maths you’re doing, but it’s nothing I’ve yet heard of. So, what do you want?” Miss Finch replied flatly.

  “Denise. Baby. “C.C. continuing with his futile flirtation. “I was hoping I could get some help putting it back?”

  “What?”

  “I—I was hoping you could help me put it back?”

  “I’m busy,” she snapped. “Just pop it there and I’ll get to it later. You’re lucky I don’t report you for sexual harassment either, you rat. This is the fifth time in the past couple weeks.”

  Ace’s stomach twisted.

  This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

  C.C. hesitated.

  Miss Finch’s words hung in the air, sharp and final. C.C.’s pulse hammered in his ears as his eyes darted around the library, thoughts tangling over each other. This wasn’t at all how it was meant to go.

  “O-Of course, I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you,” he stammered, forcing a nervous smile. “Besides, it’s probably best if it’s out of the way. And I’ll never step foot in a library again in my life, I swear to Go-”

  His sentence died as Miss Finch abruptly stood from her swivel chair. She sighed, adjusting her glasses and smoothing the front of her dress with slow irritation. C.C.’s stomach dropped. She stepped around the counter, snatched the book from his hands, and marched down the aisle without another word.

  She disappeared around the corner.

  C.C. stood frozen for half a second, then his head snapped toward the shelves. Ace peeked out, eyes wide. C.C.’s feet shifted, muscles coiled, ready to bolt at the slightest sound.

  Then…

  “Grrrrnnnkk.”

  The shelf groaned. A split second of silence. Then the crash.

  Books slammed into the carpet in a violent cascade, thuds echoing through the library as paper and hardcovers exploded outward. Somewhere behind the shelves, Miss Finch shouted.

  C.C. didn’t wait. He spun and sprinted for the door, wrenching it open and launching himself outside. Ace was right behind him, slipping through the narrowing gap just before the door slammed shut. They ran. Down hallways. Around sharp corners. Shoes skidding against polished floors as they tore through the agora, sunlight bursting into their vision and blinding them for half a heartbeat. C.C. didn’t slow until they reached the swimming centre. They burst inside and slammed the door shut, pressing their backs against it as they gasped for air. For a moment, neither of them spoke. The only sound was their breathing and the faint splash of water somewhere beyond the lobby.

  “It worked,” C.C. gasped. Then he laughed. “That actually fucking worked!”

  Adrenaline had them pacing the room, laughter bubbling out between breaths. Ace finally straightened, wiping sweat from his brow, and frowned. “Wait,” he said. “Why did we run here?”

  C.C. grinned, already moving. “Only place in the school with an exit the front office can’t see. Figured it was our best shot.” He pushed open the pool doors.

  The smell of chlorine hit them instantly. The pool water churned in constant motion, splashes licking the tiled edges. Bags were scattered along the benches, goggles and kickboards abandoned near ladders and chairs.

  They headed for the back exit.

  “WHAT ARE YOU LOSERS DOING HERE?!”

  The voice cracked across the pool.

  “Don’t look,” C.C. hissed. “Just go.”

  “HEY! DON’T IGNORE ME!”

  Wet footsteps slapped against tile. Ace risked a glance over his shoulder.

  “She’s crazy, Ace!” C.C. shouted, lunging for the door and shoving it hard.

  Nothing.

  He pulled.

  Nothing.

  His heart dropped straight through his chest.

  Behind them stood Reina. She was soaked, arms crossed tightly over her chest, making her curves show more than she intended, water dripping steadily from her black swimwear onto the tiles below. Her dark hair clung to her face and shoulders as she stared at them through narrowed lashes, jaw clenched. The steady drip of water was the only sound between them.

  “Back up, crazy lady,” C.C. said weakly, stumbling until his back hit the exit door.

  Reina scoffed. “Do you always have to be such a moron?” she snapped. “What are you two even doing here? I’m training!”

  “W—we were just leaving,” Ace said quickly. “Honestly.”

  “Oh really?” Reina shot back. “Did you miss the giant gates at the front of the school? Don’t lie to me C.C., you came for a little peek again, didn’t you? Pervert!”

  Ace swallowed. “No – actually, that wouldn’t surprise me. Look, we snuck out of detention, and we’re trying not to get caught. This is the only exit the front desk can’t see.”

  Reina’s eyes flashed.

  “Oh, spare me.”

  “And if Drayden catches us,” C.C. blurted, “he’ll chop my knob off! He told me that the last time I got in trouble. Please! I need my knob!” He pleaded

  Reina laughed once, sharp and humourless.

  “So you can flick your bean to all this at home?” Reina retorted, gesturing to herself. “You think I’m dumb enough to fall for that?” she snapped. “You two were spying on me. Sabotaging me. Maybe trying to steal my secrets.”

  She shoved past them, kicking the door open. A wet footprint smeared beneath the handle.

  “I’m number one for a reason,” Reina said coldly. “And it’s staying that way.”

  She pointed outside.

  “GET OUT!”

  Ace and C.C. burst past Reina and out of the swimming facility, the door slamming shut behind them with a final, echoing bang. Ace laughed breathlessly as he looked at C.C, who tapped his temple and spun a finger in a loose circle.

  They slowed to a jog as they crossed the gravel car park, shoes crunching beneath their feet. Ahead of them loomed a tall black fence, iron bars stretching skyward. The final barrier between them and freedom.

  C.C. stopped, hands on his knees, sucking in a breath. He bent down and clasped his hands together. “Come on. I’ll boost ya.”

  Ace didn’t hesitate. He planted his foot in C.C.’s hands and felt himself launch upward. His fingers caught the top of the fence, skin scraping metal as he hauled himself up and tipped over the other side, landing hard, but clean.

  C.C. followed with ease. His height giving him the edge. One jump, a firm grip, and he swung himself over, dropping beside Ace. They stood there for a moment, stunned.

  “Dude,” Ace breathed, grinning. “We did it. We actually did it.”

  “And you doubted me,” C.C. said with a laugh, slapping a high-five into Ace’s palm.

  They turned back toward the school, the building now distant and harmless, and shared a victorious look. Then, C.C. froze.

  “Wait,” he said sharply. “We can still make it to Lexi and Lily!”

  “What?” Ace blinked. “Man, they might’ve already—”

  “I’M NOT MISSING THIS ACE! LEXI’S PRACTICALLY BEGGING FOR IT!”

  C.C. took off without another word. Ace groaned but chased after him anyway. They sprinted through streets, jaywalking without a second thought, hammering traffic buttons and dodging cars as they cut through suburbs toward the usual diner everyone would go to after school. By the time they reached it, Ace’s lungs burned and his legs screamed.

  C.C. scanned the room through the window.

  “There!” he said, pointing. “She’s still here! Lexi!”

  Ace followed his gaze and smiled. Not because of Lexi, but because Lily was there too. But as they moved closer to the booth, Ace’s smile faltered.

  There was another head beside her.

  Jaxson.

  His arm rested casually around Lily’s shoulders, the rest of the basketball team laughing loudly from a nearby booth.

  Ace slowed.

  “A-actually, C.C…” His voice wavered. “I might just head home.”

  C.C. stopped short. “What? Why?”

  Then he saw it.

  “Jaxson?” C.C. muttered.

  Ace took a step back. “It’s fine. You go have fun, man. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  “You sure?” C.C. asked quietly. “I’m here. He won’t do shit.”

  “I said it’s fine,” Ace snapped, then softened. “I just… want to go home.”

  C.C. looked from the booth back to Ace. He understood. It didn’t matter whether he stood beside him or not. The embarrassment was already there, heavy and suffocating. Ace wouldn’t enjoy himself like this. Wouldn’t even be present. Without another word, C.C stepped closer and slung an arm around Ace’s shoulders.

  “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get out of here. No girl for you, is no girl for me. Today…”

  They walked back outside together. After a quiet goodbye, C.C. headed off toward his place, leaving Ace alone on the sidewalk. Ace glanced back through the diner window. That familiar heat flared in his chest, sharp and bitter. A gross emotion. He turned away. Ace sat down on a nearby bench, staring at the blur of passing cars until his breathing finally slowed. That’s when a cyclist rode past, and something twisted in his gut.

  His bike.

  Still locked behind the school gates.

  “…Damn it,” Ace muttered. He stood, shoulders slumped, as started his long walk home.