One Present at a time

Stelle looked up from her phone as the school building loomed in front of her. The chatter of students filled the air, but it didn’t reach her focus.

"Wait up!" March’s voice pierced through the noise, and Stelle sighed, her gaze drifting back down to her phone.

Dan Heng’s voice was calm, almost soothing. "No need to worry, March. She wasn’t going anywhere."

Stelle rolled her eyes in silence, thoughts flicking to herself as she walked. March was… annoying, sure. But it was manageable—especially since Dan Heng seemed to be the one suppressing her endless energy.

The group walked through the school, the hallways bustling with students, the dull hum of chatter blending with the sound of footsteps.

March didn’t let up. "That’s Mr. Jing Yuan’s classroom, oh! And that’s Mrs. Yukong’s office. You should go to her whenever you get hurt, and that’s…"

Stelle couldn’t help the subtle sigh. March was clearly excited to share everything, but Stelle barely registered the names.

Before she could lose herself in her thoughts, Dan Heng’s voice was suddenly next to her, his breath warm against her ear. “You should just tune her out now. She’s already covered what you need to know.”

Stelle blinked, startled by the unexpected whisper, then let out a quiet breath of relief, grateful for the distraction.

The sudden sound of a loud *Briiiiing* filled the air, and March’s words faltered.

Dan Heng glanced at the bell tower. "That’s the bell, March. I’ll see you at lunch."

As Dan Heng walked away, March caught up to Stelle again, her voice high-pitched and eager. "We have most of our classes together! Except the last one before lunch... How about I pick you up from class so you can get to the cafeteria?"

Stelle’s stomach churned at the thought of sitting through class with March. The girl was so talkative and social, a stark contrast to Stelle’s quieter, more withdrawn nature.

“Where’s Dan Heng going?” Stelle asked, trying to steer the conversation away from her anxiety.

March shrugged nonchalantly. “He’s in the honors classes. But you and I are together in the on-level courses.”

Stelle blinked, a brief flash of thought crossing her mind. *So, March isn’t exactly a genius, either.*

As they continued walking to class, March continued to drone on about their art teacher, Miss Aglaea. Stelle caught snippets of the conversation, but by the time March mentioned something about painting techniques, she had already tuned out, letting her thoughts wander again.

"Stelle~ Stelle Stelle Stelle Stelle~"

March’s sing-song voice dragged Stelle back to attention. She blinked, realizing she had tuned March out again.

“Now, first impressions are *important*,” March lectured, hands on her hips. “You don’t wanna make yourself a pariah on your first day of school! Why not try out a smile?”

Before Stelle could react, March pressed her index fingers to Stelle’s cheeks, attempting—and failing—to force a smile.

Stelle sighed, waving March’s hands away. She didn’t need friends. She was perfectly fine on her own.

March huffed but grinned. “Okay, okay, we can work on that later! For now, off you go!” She started pushing Stelle toward the art room. “You’re *gonna love* this class, trust me.”

---

At lunch, Stelle sat quietly, chewing through a sandwich the orphanage director, Welt, had packed for her, complete with his signature cookies.

Dan Heng finally broke the silence. “How did classes go?”

March immediately perked up, launching into a rapid-fire recap. “They were *so* fun! We met all our teachers, and we did some icebreaker activities, and I just *know* this year is going to be *amazing* with all my friends—”

“March.” Dan Heng cut her off, turning to Stelle. “What about you?”

Stelle considered telling the truth—that her morning had been *terrible*, with March’s constant chatter ringing in her ears for three whole periods. But the last class before lunch had been her saving grace. Science wasn’t her strong suit, but their teacher, Ms. Ruan Mei, was quiet, patient, and willing to reexplain topics. Stelle was sure she could actually pass that class.

“…It was alright,” she finally said. “I liked science the most.”

March’s eyes lit up. “Oh! Your teacher is Ms. Ruan Mei, right? She’s *the best* science teacher in the whole school! I had her last year, but this year I have Mistress Herta.”

Stelle frowned. “*Mistress*?”

March nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, *Mistress*. She’s some kind of accomplished university… accolade… or something? For this *prestigious* society or whatever.”

Dan Heng, without missing a beat, clarified, “The Genius Society of Nous Academy for Accomplished Students.”

“Yeah, yeah, *not important*,” March waved him off. “What *is* important is that Mistress Herta is *smart*, but not exactly *teacher* material. Her ego is massive, and she expects students to understand things that won’t even be covered until *senior year*—or *later*! That’s like, *years* away!”

Stelle hummed in acknowledgment, not particularly invested in March’s complaints. As long as she didn’t have *that* teacher, it wasn’t her problem.

---

Stelle’s next class was PE with Mr. Jing Yuan—or *Coach*, as some students called him. Apparently, he also taught health, but that didn’t matter to her.

As she entered the gym, Coach Jing Yuan greeted her with an easy smile. “Ah, Stelle! Dan Heng mentioned you. Welcome to PE.”

Stelle tensed at the warm welcome from someone she didn’t even know. She wasn’t used to that. More than that, *Dan Heng talked about her?* He barely seemed interested in her existence before. She shoved the thought aside.

For the icebreaker, Jing Yuan had set up a mix of softball and baseball. The sight of the bats and gloves sent a jolt through Stelle’s memory—her parents had once enrolled her in Little League but never showed up to her games. Still, she had played. She had *won*. She had smiled with her teammates.

Until they stopped bringing her to practice at all.

But that didn’t matter in the face of the joy of playing again.

Coach split the class into two teams. Stelle found herself grouped with Sushang, Arlan, Clara, and a handful of other classmates who didn’t particularly stand out to her.

On the opposing team were Scott, Guinaifen, Huohuo, Lynx, and a mix of other students she didn’t bother to remember.

The moment Stelle gripped the bat, a familiar thrill surged through her. The weight was just right, the grip firm in her hands—it was almost nostalgic. As the first pitch came flying, she swung without hesitation, the sharp *crack* of impact ringing through the field as the ball soared past the outfield.

She ran, feet pounding against the dirt, wind rushing past her ears. First base. Second. Third. Home. *This* was what she had missed—the rush, the movement, the satisfaction of a perfect hit.

And it wasn’t just a fluke. Again and again, she stepped up to the plate, and again and again, the ball went flying. A home run every time. The opposing team fought back hard—Guinaifen was surprisingly fast, Lynx was steady under pressure, and Huohuo, despite her skittishness, managed a few solid plays. But there was one glaring weak spot—Scott.

Scott fumbled every catch, missed every throw, and tripped over his own feet more times than Stelle could count. As the game went on, his own teammates slowly stopped passing the ball to him, their frustration barely hidden. By the final match, he was practically abandoned, standing alone in the outfield.

Stelle took her position at bat, rolling her shoulders. The final pitch came. She swung.

The ball shot straight ahead—right into Scott’s face.

A stunned silence fell over the field. Scott wobbled, then dropped like a sack of bricks.

Stelle winced. *Well… that wasn’t supposed to happen.*

Stelle crouched beside Scott, reaching out a hand to help him up. "You good?"

Scott, however, wasn't having it. His face was red—whether from the hit or his growing anger, Stelle wasn’t sure. He slapped her hand away, glaring.

"You idiot! You did that on purpose, didn’t you? What’s your problem?"

Stelle sighed, already regretting trying to help. "It was an accident. Chill."

"Chill?!" Scott spat, his voice rising. "You think you can just do whatever you want because people pity you? You dirty trash orphan—"

Stelle’s blood ran cold.

Her hands curled into fists as she stood up, eyes narrowing. "Say that again," she challenged.

Scott sneered. "You heard me."

Stelle took a step forward, ready to swing—not with a bat this time, but with her fist—but before she could, a strong hand grabbed her shoulder.

"Enough," Coach Jing Yuan’s voice cut through the tension, firm but calm. "Both of you, back off."

Stelle’s jaw clenched, but she didn’t fight his grip. "He called me a—"

"I heard what he said," Jing Yuan interrupted, glancing at Scott with a disappointed frown before turning back to her. "But violence is not the answer."

Stelle scoffed. "So I’m just supposed to let people talk to me like that?"

Jing Yuan didn’t waver. "It’s not an excuse."

The words stung more than Stelle expected. Her anger flickered into something smaller, something she wasn’t ready to name. She muttered a "Whatever," before stepping back.

The class continued, but Stelle barely processed it. When they were finally dismissed, she slipped away, finding her way onto the school’s rooftop.

She sat on the edge, staring at the cityscape, the distant hum of cars and chatter barely reaching her ears. The insult replayed in her mind, mixing with the way Jing Yuan had looked at her—not with pity, not with sympathy, just expectation.

Her phone buzzed.

She blinked, pulling it from her pocket.

**The group chat.**

A sinking feeling settled in her stomach. She had skipped half the school day. They had to be talking about her, right? Complaining, judging, maybe even laughing.

Still… she hesitated for only a moment before opening the messages, bracing herself for the worst.

Stelle jolted when she noticed March crouching beside her, her usual bright energy dimmed by concern.

"You really had us worried, y'know," March said, tilting her head to meet Stelle’s downcast eyes.

Stelle scoffed, wiping at her face. "Why? I’m fine."

March sat beside her, hugging her knees. "Doesn’t seem like it."

Silence stretched between them before Stelle clenched her fists. "It’s just… no matter what I do, people always remind me that I don’t belong. That I’m just some… some abandoned kid who’s better off forgotten." Her voice cracked, and before she could stop herself, tears spilled down her cheeks. "I know my parents leaving wasn’t my fault. Their deaths weren’t my fault. But people still act like I did something wrong just by existing."

March was quiet for a moment before sighing. "I get it."

Stelle blinked at her through blurry eyes.

"I mean… I don’t remember my parents at all. They left me before I was old enough to understand anything. And sometimes, I wonder—was I not good enough? Was I too much trouble? What made them decide I wasn’t worth keeping?" March laughed softly, though it didn’t reach her eyes. "It sucks."

Stelle swallowed hard, looking away.

"But," March continued, nudging Stelle’s shoulder, "if I let that control my whole life, I’d never be able to enjoy the people who do care about me. Welt, Himiko, the others… they’re my family now. And like it or not, Stelle, you’re stuck with us, too."

A small, watery chuckle escaped Stelle before she wiped her eyes again.

March grinned. "There’s that smile I was talking about!"

Stelle rolled her eyes but felt lighter than before.

"C’mon," March said, standing up and offering a hand. "Let’s go home. Maybe we can ask Welt for more of those cookies."

Stelle hesitated, then took March’s hand, letting her pull her up.

As they made their way back, Stelle thought to herself that maybe—just maybe—she could learn to enjoy the company of March and the rest of the orphanage crew.