Yuki went into her Political Science class expecting a cold war, but was instead confronted with Rhett's warm smile. He was the only one present in the classroom besides the teacher, Mr. Manalo, who'd rolled his chair into the sun and now snored through the silence.
At a loss, she sat down at her desk several seats away from Rhett and opened her bento box. After spending most of the lunch hour trying to track Ethan down, she didn't wait to dig into the onigiri and fried chicken with pickled plums her grandmother had packed for her.
"I'd almost forgotten how good your food always smells."
At a cracking sound, Yuki glared at Rhett who'd moved to the desk beside hers and now sat munching on some thin strawberry cream-covered biscuit sticks. Her favorite flavor.
Can't a girl have her lunch in peace?
While she glared at him, he shook the packet of cookie sticks at her. "They're not poisoned, Snowflake."
She'd always said that to him, after he'd gotten a terrible stomachache from some spoiled milk she'd given him. Yuki still didn't understand why he'd drunk it without saying anything.
The cookie called her; she couldn't resist. "Arigathanks." Yuki cautiously laughed as he cringed at her language mashing. "Baguette," she couldn't help but add. For this moment, this golden hour, time had reversed itself and they were friends again. The cold war had ended. The ice between them had thawed.
"That's such a childish nickname." Rhett grimaced, putting another packet of his snack on Yuki's table. To keep her from eating all of his, he would argue. "Baguette doesn't sound like Rhett."
"No, but it rhymes." Yuki giggled, tearing into the sweets bag. "Snowflake is such a silly nickname too. Like really? So basic." She stuck a biscuit between her lips, letting the cream dissolve in her mouth.
"Your name literally means snow." Rhett shook his head. "Don't you remember why I gave you that nickname?"
Yuki remembered.
"I'm going to call you Baguette," she said.
"Because it just barely sounds like Rhett?"
Yuki grinned and grabbed his hand to steal a bite of his matcha ice cream. "No, because I like bread. Duh."
"Stop eating mine, you little goblin! You've got your own." But Rhett didn't pull his hand away.
Yuki offered him her popsicle and after staring her down, he licked the whole length of it while she sighed in disgust.
"Yours will be Snowflake. That's what Yuki means, right?"
"Something like that. Is it because they melt, because I'm literally dying in this heat," Yuki complained, snatching the cap from his head to fan herself with.
Rhett grinned. "No, it's because they're pretty—
"Like you."
Yuki sucked in a breath, putting the cookie packet down. "I don't remember." Her eyelid twitched.
But no matter how cold she grew, how pitch black like the darkest midnight, in Rhett's sunshine presence she became a transparent raindrop.
"Lie," he breathed, his voice like an exhale. It sounded like relief, as if he realized that he still knew her even after the two years they'd grown apart. She hadn't changed beyond his recognition yet. "Yuki, what am I to you?"
"Ask me no questions. I'll tell you no lies," Yuki replied. Scrambling for time, that's all she was doing. Yesterday Rhett had insulted her, wanted nothing to do with her, but today, something had shifted. Somehow their old, easygoing friendship had revived and she didn't understand how. Only one thing had changed—
"What am I to you, Baguette?" She stuck her hands in the pockets of her school uniform to stop them from shaking. Tell me, am I your Lie?
"You're my best friend," he said, "and since transferring schools, my worst rival when it comes to being the top student in our year. I never had to study before."
It figured. She studied her heart out, burning the midnight oil until she fell asleep with her textbooks as a hard pillow. He'd often envied her popularity and street smarts. She'd wanted his brilliance and effortless good grades.
"I miss when you wore glasses," she said, as students swarmed in with bare seconds to spare before the bell rang.
Rhett didn't get a chance to answer before he was ousted as a desk squatter. He looked back at her several times though, his clear grey eyes intelligent and searching. As confused as her. They didn't have control over this game, over all the answers, but Yuki intended to go wrestle some from the person who did.
The shrill scream of the bell woke Mr. Manalo to begin class.
"Good morning, students," he said, seeming to forget that the clock marked an hour past noon. "Today we will begin the Cold War simulation."
Everyone groaned.
Educational. The word used to pass off Mr. Manalo's pet project as anything other than mind-numbing and tedious. "Would you rather we have a pop quiz tomorrow?" he demanded with post-nap gruffness. "I can arrange that."
His proposal incited even louder backlash.
The people in power really should find better uses for our time than social experiments. Yuki propped her chin on her hand, glancing at Rhett to watch his reaction. That light in his eyes looked rather...animated.
She nudged the bento box with her hand, sighing. The teacher hadn't told her to put it away, but chances were she'd only get a bite in before he noticed. The opened packet of cookies she tucked into her tote bag for later.
"Stop complaining," Mr. Manalo ordered. "Participation is worth half your grade. Using my own personal formula" —the pride evident in those words was adorable in a way, Yuki had to admit— "I will be calculating the amount of resources: food, water, weapons, and troops, you receive per round based on size and economic growth, among other factors, of the country you are assigned.
"You may make alliances, trade resources, attack other countries, and so on and so forth. The goal is to not get wiped off the board. That'll make your Friday class very dull since you'll be watching everyone else play."
Play wasn't the word Yuki would use. Unless you drew one of the Cold War superpowers, the United States or the Soviet Union, you were doomed to be a satellite of the Western or Eastern Blocs, forever circling their suns.
Even worse, she drew El Salvador, which allied her with neither. After everyone received their countries and Mr. Manalo rattled off the current state of affairs in the starting year, 1945, Yuki joined the cluster of other third world nations to listen in on their scheming.
"Maybe if we all offer our support together, we can at least ally with one side," a girl named Aisha suggested.
Yuki drifted away from the crowd and took the empty desk in front of Rhett's.
He didn't notice her at all, zoned out as he was on the world map covering the chalkboard. It lent her the opportunity to mourn the total loss of baby fat, to admire the slight waves of his darkening hair now that he'd let it grow out. Ever the musician, his lithe fingers drummed an unconscious beat on the grey surface of his desk.
"I have a proposition," Yuki whispered. Rhett's eyes immediately snapped to her, as if she'd summoned his attention with a siren song in his ears.
"What? There's no point trying to win this simulation," Rhett said. He'd drawn Mexico, which would likely fall into rank and file line with the NATO nations.
"Oh, I don't want to win." Yuki grinned. "Let's have some fun instead."
He leaned forward. "I'm listening."
For this class, Yuki had decided, she wouldn't care about Truth and Lie. She wouldn't care about secrets or good grades. This Cold War was their chance to be children in a golden summer again. Getting into trouble without a care in the world. Facing everything hand in hand as best friends, not rivals competing for top marks or a scholarship.
That world didn't have Era, or Sophia, or Ethan. It had bullies, ones that smashed Rhett's glasses on sidewalk concrete. Bullies that called her father words she hadn't understood—ugly words like liar, blackmailer, embezzler.
But she'd had Rhett, with his quick mind for letters and numbers—for everything abstract—who could explain the workings of a universe she'd never known, of books, art, and music. And back then Rhett had her sharp tongue and willingness to get her fists bloody, to jump into the fray and take risks. To fight in self-defense instead of taking beatings, both verbal and physical, as if they were deserved.
"The Cold War was all about psychological warfare right? Hiding behind proxy wars, utilizing embargoes, manipulating public sentiment in your favor." In other words, it was a game of bluffs and strategy, and Yuki knew she could be a masterful politician if she had a mastermind of logistics backing her.
Based on Rhett's intense frowning, he'd begun to catch on. "You want to break the status quo...and what? Fleece some other poor countries?"
Yuki tapped his forehead. "You're dreaming too small with that big brain of yours. We play this right and we can do far more than that. Nuke the game."
The realization finally set into Rhett's eyes, but he started laughing with that golden hair darkened to brown. With golden skin, and a golden laugh that Yuki drank in as if it were sunlight in a bottle, a liquid ambrosia. "You're crazy," he said between gentle chuckles.
"I am and I'm going to blow the world to bits to prove it. You in?"
Chapter Word Count: 1562