The cookie was... alarming.
It looked like someone tried to draw my face from memory. While blindfolded. With their non-dominant hand.
Zani watched me like a hawk as I took a bite. It tasted like sugar, chaos, and maybe regret.
She leaned closer, one eyebrow raised. "Okay. Serious question."
Here we go.
I didn't answer. Just chewed slowly and stared ahead, already bracing for whatever nonsense was about to escape her mouth.
"If you had to get possessed by one type of ghost," she began, completely straight-faced, "would you rather it be a Victorian child with trust issues or a disco-era lounge singer with unfinished drama?"
I blinked. "What."
Well truth zani when she says 'serious'
She nodded solemnly. "Like, think about it. Victorian kid ghost would be all like 'Pardon me, sir, I died in the attic in 1884 and now I cry at midnight,' but the disco ghost? They'd haunt your Spotify. They'd make you dance in public. Very high stakes."
I stared at her. Then at the cookie. Then at her again.
"This is why people think I'm 'weird' by association," I said.
She grinned. "But you didn't say no."
I didn't.
Unfortunately, my brain had already started considering both options.
"…The singer," I muttered finally.
"WHAT? You'd let a haunted lounge ghost live in your body??"
"At least they'd be entertaining."
Zani gasped like I'd just agreed to marry a sea cucumber. "You're evolving. I'm corrupting you."
"Don't flatter yourself."
"Oh, it's not flattery, Shin-san. It's prophecy."
She held her pinky up like it was a holy relic. "Swear on your life you'll let me throw you a disco funeral if you die before me."
"I'm not dying first."
"You're right. I'll probably trip on a pencil and ascend early. BUT. Still. Promise me."
I looked at her. This ridiculous girl with flour and glitter in her hair and a haunted cookie army in her backpack.
I raised my pinky. She locked hers with mine.
It was dumb.
Warm.
Kind of dangerous.
"Fine," I said.
She beamed like I'd given her the moon.
"Boom," she whispered. "Ghost disco pact secured."
_______
"Zaniii!"
Voices echoed across the walkway like a bell about to ruin the peace I didn't ask for.
I flinched. Zani, on the other hand, perked up like a golden retriever being offered snacks.
She turned. "Melly! Evelyn! Cassy! Charles! Natalie!"
She sprinted toward them like they weren't five feet away. Glitter probably flying off her hoodie again. I just stood there, awkwardly holding the ghost of a conversation we were having seconds ago.
The girl with the huge curls—definitely Evelyn—folded her arms. Her eyes flicked to me like I was gum on her shoe.
"Zani," she said. Flatly. "We don't hang out anymore. You've just been with him."
She said him like I was a contagious rash.
"You didn't even tell me you were back."
Zani pouted, then giggled, throwing her arms around her. "Oh, Evelyn, I missed you!"
"Yeah. Right," Evelyn muttered, voice coated in ice.
Then, she glanced at me again—this time with the subtle grace of someone trying to set me on fire with her pupils.
"We're going to Marty's. You coming?"
Zani hesitated for all of one second. Then her hand looped around my arm like it belonged there.
"Oof, I think I'm gonna pass. We had plans already," she said, smiling up at me like this was normal.
Evelyn's eyes narrowed.
"Seriously?" she said. "Are you guys, like... dating or something?"
Zani laughed—too loud, too bright. "Come on, no! Evelyn. Just helping me out."
Her friend didn't look convinced.
She looked at me again—longer this time. Like she was trying to measure something about me she didn't understand. And didn't like.
"Fine," Evelyn said sharply. "But you're coming out tomorrow. Non-negotiable."
Zani gave her a peace sign. "Promise!"
And just like that, her group peeled off, throwing glances back at us like we were a tabloid headline. When Zani came back to my side, still smiling, I didn't say anything.
But her hand didn't let go of my arm.
Not even when we started walking again.
---
"She's my best friend. Since I was, like, nine." Zani said it out of nowhere. I didn't ask.
I raised an eyebrow.
"She can be, you know… a lot. But she's an angel. Inside."
Sure. If angels rolled their eyes like weapons and looked at me like I keyed their car in a past life.
I adjusted my backpack. "Anyway, I'm going home. And I have no idea what you meant earlier about us hanging out."
She turned to me with a look of absolute offense, like I just kicked a puppy.
"No, you're not, Shin-chan. You're coming home with me."
I paused. Hard.
First she got it she said 'chan' instead of 'san'
Secondly--no way.
"…No. I'm really not."
"Yes, you are, Cloud Boy," she said, grinning like she just won an argument we weren't having.
I stared.
She started walking.
And somehow—I followed.
I told myself it was curiosity. Maybe I just wanted to know where she lived. Maybe I wanted to see what kind of chaos spawned a human glitter bomb like her.
Maybe I was under a spell.
A glittery, loud, possibly unhinged spell.
But I followed anyway.
Because Zani didn't ask. She just decided.
And apparently, I was now part of the decision.