Coming toward us was the inspection team from Class Six, Grade One. They wore white shirts and blue pants, striding smartly in unison toward the podium. Look! They were full of spirit, holding colorful batons, their steps perfectly synchronized. Listen! Their slogans rang out loud and clear, full of momentum: “Friendship first, competition second, strive hard, press forward bravely...”

After the sports committee member’s shout of “March in step, one—two—”, Zoe Young and the others all began to march, turning their faces toward the podium, staring blankly at the row of school leaders above, swinging their “clatter sticks” in rhythm, and chanting uninspired slogans.

“Alan Carter, I think we look really silly.”

All the inspection teams stood together on the grass in the center of the sports field, waiting for the speeches from the athletes’ representative, the referees’ representative, the principal, the vice principal, the director of teaching, the head of the PE department...

“Alan Carter, ever since we were little, the leaders have always had endless things to say. I know they don’t really want to talk, and we don’t want to listen. Who is it that keeps making us torture each other like this?”

After the flag-raising ceremony ended, the inspection teams exited, and everyone dashed off toward their class formations. The only ones not in a hurry were the girls holding the class signs, all dressed up beautifully in short skirts, so naturally they couldn’t run off as carelessly as the others.

Zoe Young ran as fast as she could—because she was desperate to use the bathroom and could barely hold it anymore. Before leaving home that morning, her mom insisted she finish her milk, and she had always hated drinking water; even a little too much would make her need to go right away...

“Alan Carter, I’ve always had a question I can’t figure out. I’ve been thinking about it since I was little, but I still don’t really get it... Don’t laugh at me...”

Zoe Young’s letters became more and more uninhibited. She felt that the name Alan Carter had become a meaningless heading, and her handwriting grew more casual, like a continuous monologue. She no longer felt that any topic was too silly or embarrassing.

“Actually, what I want to ask is, when you wake up in the middle of the night, should you go to the bathroom first or drink water first? If I drink water first, with my constitution, I’ll probably have to... go right away. But if I go to the bathroom first, then after drinking water I always get neurotic and feel like I need to go again... It’s so hard to choose...”

After writing it, she would even giggle to herself.

But she would never know what expression Alan Carter had when reading this question—whether he even read her letters at all was a question in itself.

Zoe Young ran up to her class’s spot in the stands, asked Monica Zack for permission, and headed toward the public restroom below the podium, when suddenly she heard Monica Zack’s sharp voice behind her: “Why are you joining in the fun?”

She hesitated, turned around, and saw Michelle Cindy standing in front of Monica Zack, her face red, awkwardly turning away and climbing a few steps back to her seat.

When Zoe Young returned from the bathroom, the arts committee member pulled her over to help lead everyone in waving the “clatter sticks.”

“I said, eat later! Put your food down, we’ll let you eat after rehearsal, what’s the rush? If the school leaders come down to inspect and we’re still rehearsing, it’ll be too late!”

The arts committee member tried hard to stop them, but everyone was still busy opening their bags and pulling out all kinds of snacks, showing off, trading, the sound of crinkling wrappers filling the air.

“Let them eat first.” Zoe Young yawned, pulling the arts committee member up to the stands. The arts committee member sighed reluctantly, but didn’t forget to point at a few boys: “Sit up straight, line up with the row in front, look at you all slouching, it’s really obvious from the podium, pay attention!”

Zoe Young couldn’t help but laugh softly. In the arts committee member’s strong sense of collective honor, she saw a glimpse of the old Claire Daniels and Emily Xavier from elementary school. She had already lost touch with Claire Daniels, didn’t even know if she’d gone to the affiliated high school or somewhere else. Even when visiting her grandmother, it was hard to see Tina Young, who was always in tutoring.

Old friends, one by one, had disappeared. But she was content to let fate take its course—what couldn’t stay, let it go; what could return, be grateful.

Like Benny.

Zoe Young sat back in her seat, craning her neck to look toward Class Two, but couldn’t see anything clearly.

In fact, she and Benny rarely had chances to meet and talk anymore. The few times they did, they chatted about Sean Sherman, about each class’s preparations for the sports meet, hardly ever about themselves.

Every time Zoe Young saw Benny, he was always with a group of boys like Ethan Xavier. She knew how much he cared about his image in front of these so-called buddies, so she always pretended not to know him, never even called him “Benny.” This made her feel a bit stifled. Sometimes, watching Benny among the boys, she would secretly compare the current him to the old him.

But there was really nothing to compare.

Because the old Benny was just a blurry shadow now.

As Zoe Young sat daydreaming in the stands, she suddenly understood something. Sometimes, what she remembered wasn’t the person themselves, but the feeling she had when she was with them. Comfortable, happy, close—that was friendship. Even if the other person had changed, she could still trace back along the warmth of those memories.

Her ease and those rambling monologues were all for the old Benny—Zoe Young was fooling herself, pretending the boy beside her was still six years old, pretending not to know he didn’t like being called “Benny.”

Holding on can sometimes mean loyalty, but sometimes it’s just being loyal to your own feelings.

Zoe Young suddenly felt inexplicably stifled, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Michelle Cindy in the front row, left side, turning her face to look at her, her expression pained, as if asking for help.

“What’s wrong?” Zoe Young mouthed the words with a questioning look. Michelle Cindy quickly turned back, pretending she hadn’t looked anxious at all.

Zoe Young shrugged and let it go, rummaged through her bag, stared at the pile of snacks inside, thought for a moment, pulled out a bag of Xizhilang fruit jelly, opened it, and shared it with the classmates around her, getting some chocolate wafers and preserved plums in return.

The bag of jelly was soon down to just two pieces. The classmates around her burst out in surprise as the canned Coke of Ethan Xavier and his friends in the top row got kicked over, spilling down the rows like a flood. Everyone grabbed their seat cushions to dodge, chaos erupting. The arts committee member stared in despair toward the podium, as if realizing their class had already lost its chance at the spirit award.

Although the mess was far away and didn’t reach her, Zoe Young still stood up to make room for the panicked classmates. Taking the chance to stand and rub her numb backside, she walked over to the lonely Michelle Cindy, held out her hand, and pointed at the last two jellies: “Pineapple or mango, which flavor do you want?”

“What?”

“Jelly, there are only two left. You take one, I’ll take one, let’s share.”

Michelle Cindy’s expression was still a bit odd, as if she was enduring something. She lowered her head and asked softly, “What’s pineapple?”

Zoe Young patted her head and laughed: “Ha, they always call it ‘ Taiwan Pineapple ’, and after a while I got used to it too. Actually, it’s just ‘Pineapple’.”

“I want mango.” She reached out and took the orange one from Zoe Young’s palm. Zoe Young felt her fingertips were cold, bent down and asked softly, “Are you okay? Are you cold?”

Michelle Cindy finally looked up, awkwardly saying, “I need to go to the bathroom, I can’t hold it anymore.”

“Just tell Mr. Zack and ask for permission!”

“I did...”

When Zoe Young ran to the bathroom, Michelle Cindy, who hadn’t joined the inspection team and had stayed in the stands, had already mustered the courage to tell Monica Zack she needed to go too. Monica Zack didn’t like her to begin with, scolded her for trying to join in, and said that to keep the stands orderly, only one person could go at a time—after the previous one returned, the next could go.

After being scolded by Monica Zack, Michelle Cindy kept waiting for a chance, but as boys and girls went to ask for permission one by one, she was too timid and kept holding it in.

Michelle Cindy didn’t say anything, just looked at Zoe Young with pleading eyes. Zoe Young, still confused, suddenly felt a surge of chivalrous spirit. She grabbed Michelle Cindy’s hand and said, “Come on, we’ll just tell Mr. Zack your stomach hurts a bit, and I’ll go with you.”