Yon walked home, the weight of the day's chaos settling into something lighter.
This school… it's alive.
Not just a fortress of grades and prestige, but a place where oddballs like him could carve out corners of belonging.
"I made the right choice," he murmured to the dusk, grinning as he kicked a pebble down the road.
—
At home, the illusion shattered.
"YON ALESSIO!" His mother's voice lashed out the moment he stepped inside. "Do you know what time it is?!"
"Bu, I'm sorr—"
She seized his ear, her calloused fingers firm but careful. "Six PM. Six. I told you—begged you—not to wander after dark! The roads aren't safe, and you didn't even call—"
"I'm sorry, okay? Won't happen again!"
"Better not," she huffed, releasing him. But her anger melted as she turned toward the kitchen, shoulders slumping. "Sit. I made nasi goreng."
Yon's guilt twisted sharper. He had*m eaten—scarfed down a convenience store roti with Alice, laughing as she ranted about fantasy novels. But he sat anyway, watching his mother heap a plate with golden fried rice, shrimp paste and chili wafting through the air.
"You forgot your lunch money," she said, not looking at him. "Must've been starving."
"Thanks, Bu." He take a bite, the flavors rich and familiar. Liar, he cursed himself.
She lingered, pretending to fold laundry, stealing glances as he ate. "So… how was first day of school?it's good? "
"Good," he said, swallowing the roll eggs with the rice. "Really good."
After dinner, Yon retreated to his room, the ghost of a smile still playing on his lips. His mother watched him go, her own heart lighter. Good, she thought. He's finally found a place to belong.
In the quiet of his room, Yon pulled out a worn his dairy journal—its pages filled with fragments of his life, scribbled in ink smudged by tears and laughter. Tonight, for the first time, his pen danced across the paper with unbridled joy.
Diary Entry - July 21th, 2017
*Today, the universe shifted.
I walked into SMA Honour expecting another chapter of solitude. Instead, I stumbled into Alice's chaos, Direnjie's quiet brilliance, Arli's sharp wit… and a girl named Lexana, who carries secrets like shadows. We forged a club on a whim, laughed until our ribs ached, and for once, I didn't feel like the boy peering in from the outside.
This is more than a fresh start. It's a promise—to myself, to them.
Maybe happiness isn't a destination. Maybe it's the ink staining these pages, the friends who turn strangers into family, the courage to believe tomorrow might surprise you.*
He wrote leisurely yet deliberately, each word a stitch mending the ragged edges of his past. For years, his journal had been a vault for sorrows. Tonight, it bloomed with hope.
When the final sentence dried, Yon tidied his room—a ritual of order in a life once frayed—brushed his teeth, and lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Tomorrow, the school's two-day orientation retreat would begin. New routines, midnight whispers, shared fears.
As sleep tugged at him, he wondered: What stories will we write next?
—
Dawn crept in, pale and tentative. Yon rose at 5 AM, slipping out into the quiet streets for his ritual walk—a habit born of restless energy. By six, he returned, scrubbing dishes and sweeping floors with uncharacteristic zeal.
His mother, Luyon, paused mid-coffee, eyebrows arched. "Since when do you clean so morning?"
Yon shrugged, avoiding her gaze. "There's… a school retreat. Camping at the beach. We we'll go today." he said
"this day?!are you a morons? " Luyon's mug clattered against the counter. "Why you didn't you tell me? I need to pack your things—clothes, toiletries, snacks—"
"It's fine, Bu! We leave at one pm. Plenty of time."
"Plenty of—? Yon Alessio, look at this house!" She gestured wildly at the cluttered kitchen. "I'm going to the market. Watch the shop. And don't touch the mop again—you'll flood the place!"
She vanished in a whirlwind of scarves and reusable bags, leaving Yon alone with the family's cramped convenience store. He slumped onto the stool behind the counter, grinning. Mission accomplished.
His mother's panic was a small price to pay for sparing her the truth: the retreat wasn't just "camping."
Rumors swirled about SMA Honour's orientation rituals—night hikes, secret trials, bonds forged under moonlight. Yon's journal lay upstairs, its latest entry brimming with anticipation:
Tomorrow, the real adventure begins.
Yon leaned against the warung's weathered counter, the morning air thick with the earthy scent of gado-gado and the tangy sweetness of freshly sliced rujak. His mother's absence left the shop quiet, save for the hum of a rusty fan and the occasional flutter of sparrows darting between power lines.
"Yon! Where've you been hiding, man?" A familiar voice broke the stillness. It was Brian, a boy from elementary school whose grin still carried the mischief of their chalk-throwing days. "One rujak please, extra spicy—four chilis. And don't skimp on the peanuts!"
Yon scribbled the order on a grease-stained notepad. "Haven't been hiding. Just… around."
"Around? Bro, you're ghosting the whole neighborhood!" Brian tossed a crumpled 10,000 rupiah note onto the counter. "Your mom out? Tell her I said hi. I'll pick this up later."
" okey, just wait for any moment and i will send your rujak to your house."
Brian saluted and sauntered off, leaving Yon alone again with the sky. Dawn lingered in muted grays, the sun still hesitant behind a veil of clouds. Swallows dipped and soared, their wings slicing through the haze.
Funny, Yon thought, tracing the outline of a drifting cumulus. Even half-lit, the sky's got more layers than SMA Honour's rulebook.