Girls around eleven or twelve years old, huddled together, cautiously discussing boys. Whenever the topic was about someone else, they would be bold and unrestrained, but when it turned to themselves, they were afraid of being called “shameless for having a boyfriend,” always rushing to clarify, yet still shyly and secretly enjoying the excitement of being talked about.

A kind of excitement tinged with a bit of thrill and embarrassment. Even if the rumored boy assigned to them had a face full of pimples and a voice like a cat whose tail had been caught in a door, what did it matter? As long as, when facing him, the onlookers started to tease, there would be a different kind of blushing and heart racing. Zoe Young learned what hormones were that autumn—though at the time, she didn’t know that strange reaction came from hormones. On her left was Emily Xavier’s constant chatter, while on her right came the clacking of high heels, drawing closer. Because the drum and bugle corps outside the window had started making ear-splitting noise again, no one else could hear the footsteps. Zoe Young nudged Claire Daniels, and the two of them, without drawing attention, pretended to stretch and stood up, carrying their scripts as they strolled to the door. Just as the other three were still excitedly chatting, the door was suddenly flung open with a bang. Emily Xavier was the first to panic and tried to stand up, but the sofa was too soft, so she ended up falling back down halfway.

At the door, Zoe Young and Claire Daniels stood calmly, still holding their scripts. The squad counselor’s face was as dark as a raincloud, as if a single touch would set off thunder and lightning. She tossed her keys onto the table, the large bunch clattering against the glass with a crash. Against the background noise of the drum and bugle corps, it wasn’t very loud, but the three who had just straightened up all jumped at the sound.

“You’re all so capable now, aren’t you? Am I just talking nonsense? I can’t control you anymore, is that it?!”

The squad counselor was really just a shrew. Zoe Young thought. But—she scolds well. Unconsciously, she smiled like a mischievous little fox.

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3. The Reason for Love

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Zoe Young’s little bit of mischief left Emily Xavier and the other two to keep memorizing lines in the squad office, while Claire Daniels and she were shown mercy and sent back to class—most of the students were out on the field under the sun, rehearsing for the drum and bugle corps or the bouquet team, so the empty classroom was perfect for a leisurely afternoon.

As Zoe Young and Claire Daniels went downstairs, they happened to run into three students from the drum and bugle corps coming up. Two of them wore the corps’ pure white conductor uniforms, and the other wore a green trumpeter’s outfit.

The boy on the far left in white was Andrew Lane, and the other two boys were a bit taller and sturdier than him. Today, Zoe Young seemed especially sensitive; the moment these three boys appeared, Claire Daniels beside her straightened her back and lowered her head, her body stiff, like a bow with its ponytail string pulled too tight. Yet Claire Daniels put on the classic expression of a Women’s Federation cadre—eyes straight ahead, gaze firm, but her face was too stiff. This Claire Daniels puzzled Zoe Young, so she could only follow suit, not really understanding—after all, she didn’t want to confront Andrew Lane either.

As for Andrew Lane, his expression remained unchanged from start to finish, looking straight ahead just like her, as if walking through a void. But, as the squad counselor said, peripheral vision isn’t just for show—Zoe Young’s peripheral vision told her that as they passed, the tallest boy in the middle quickly glanced up at Claire Daniels. He looked up so forcefully that she could see the whites under his eyes. The unfamiliar boy on the far right grinned like a little mouse—he even looked like one, with a pointy face and a long, thin jaw. He chuckled as he nudged the big guy’s ribs with his elbow, his shifty eyes darting quickly at Claire Daniels, then jerking his chin.

“Is it her?” His voice was a bit flippant. Zoe Young saw Claire Daniels clench her teeth so hard her jaw looked like a fish’s gills. This was the longest, most drawn-out passing-by they had ever experienced. Finally, it was over. Zoe Young let out a breath, and only when she turned the corner at the stairs did she glance back, just in time to hear a whistle and a strange shout from behind. Zoe Young suddenly laughed.

She turned to look at the slightly flushed Claire Daniels, and repeated what Emily Xavier had said earlier in a teasing tone: “What’s going on between you and Scott Zack?”

In Claire Daniels’s mind, boys were just a bunch of blurry-faced, equally annoying guys with different names. Rude, show-offs, brainless, no sense of collective honor, undisciplined, unwilling to accept criticism, always grinning and talking back—they only liked to mess around with girls like Emily Xavier, who dressed up and loved looking in the mirror. Pulling braids, flipping skirts, then grinning as they waited for the girls to chase them, staging chase scenes all over the hallway: “Stop right there!” “I won’t!”

In the end, they’d get caught by the hall monitors and have points deducted, embarrassing the class. Yet this very Claire Daniels actually said to Zoe Young, “He really is pretty good-looking, and seems quite polite.

Anyway, look, he’s different from the boy next to him, right?” A breeze blew by, and Zoe Young, sitting under the wisteria trellis in the front yard where leaves had started to fall, swung her legs absentmindedly, occasionally glancing up at her close friend across from her, who was lost in thought. The drum and bugle corps’ unpleasant melody seemed far away now, and the cool autumn wind blew deep into her heart, making her feel ticklish.

“So in the end…” Still confused and surprised, Zoe Young could only ask a pointless question, “So what’s going on?”

“Anyway… that’s just how it is. What’s there to say? They’re all making things up.” Claire Daniels looked a bit impatient, but if you looked closely, you’d see she was just using that impatience to cover up a hint of shyness. Zoe Young felt a little disappointed, as if her best friend didn’t plan to explain things clearly.

Propping her chin, she comforted herself: there are always some things you can’t tell others, not even your closest friends. So Zoe Young didn’t ask any more. They sat face to face in silence under the afternoon wisteria, looking up at the sky, which was cut into small pieces like a broken puzzle, but with a kind of careless beauty.

Zoe Young didn’t know that, despite treating all boys the same, Claire Daniels could actually pick Scott Zack out of a crowd. Scott Zack never buttoned the top two buttons of any shirt, had a pimple on his left forehead, and was one of the tallest in the whole school—unlike the other little guys, he might already be over 1.6 meters tall. Yet Claire Daniels didn’t know that if a boy reached over 1.6 meters at twelve, he might never grow much taller.

Also, his profile looked a bit like Logan Woods, the one from Little Tigers that Claire Daniels liked best—the one whose name she first misheard as “No-Gas Dragon”… that one…

Claire Daniels wanted to tell Zoe Young that she recognized him because he was special. But was he really special? Was it just because he was a bit taller and better looking than the other boys? She couldn’t say for sure, and the feeling made her ashamed, so every time she wanted to speak, she just waved her hand for Zoe Young to let it go. In fact, she never told Zoe Young that yesterday afternoon, when she crossed the playground alone, head down, passing by the drum and bugle corps, everyone around was making a fuss. She kept her face stiff and didn’t look up, but her eyes still glanced at Scott Zack’s legs. The corps uniform was a bit small for him, the pant legs too short, exposing a section of white socks that stood out against his black shoes.

And his thighs were chubby. The moment those three boys appeared just now, she recognized him by that feature.

How could she recognize him in an instant? Realizing this, Claire Daniels felt unbearably ashamed. “Can I ask you one last question?” As they stood up to return to class, Zoe Young asked softly.

Claire Daniels nodded. “What?” “How did you meet that Scott Zack?” The question that should have come first was left for last.

Claire Daniels was at a loss for words. She shook her head and awkwardly changed the subject: “Let’s go back to class.” “Zoe,” she answered quietly in her heart, “do you know? I’ve never even met him.”

The first time the name Scott Zack came up was in the girls’ chat on Women’s Day. They said, “Did you know? Scott Zack likes Claire Daniels.” Later, Claire Daniels couldn’t remember how many times she’d heard that sentence. Scott Zack from Class Four likes Claire Daniels from Class Seven—boys from her own class shouting, girls whispering in the hallway… She didn’t know when it started, but many people in class began to look at her differently.

Even Zoe Young would sometimes glance at her questioningly when she overheard it. But thankfully, whenever Zoe Young sensed her hesitation, she would stay silent and never ask.