Chapter 7: The Last Goodbye

The whole class went silent, waiting for him to be embarrassed. But Mason just looked at them, shrugged, and said, “Yeah. Buying water costs money, boiling water uses electricity.” He smiled. “Electricity’s expensive, you probably don’t know.”

His honesty was disarming. He met their eyes without flinching, and the laughter died in their throats.

His frankness left them speechless. Maybe because they didn’t get to see him embarrassed, someone kept trying to mock him. I took off my headphones, turned back, and looked at them coldly. “You’re too loud.”

My voice cut through the tension, and for a moment, no one knew what to say. They turned away, muttering, but didn’t push it further.

So they quieted down.

Mason glanced at me, a flicker of gratitude in his eyes, and nodded politely.

I remember Mason, holding that bottle, glanced at me and nodded politely.

It was a small gesture, but it felt like an understanding passed between us.

I don’t know why I thought of him saying electricity was expensive now, so as I watched his father boil water, I hesitated and sat down at the door.

I stared at my hands, feeling out of place, but determined not to insult his hospitality.

When Mason came back, his father was asking me about his performance at school. I held my cup and answered seriously, “He’s outstanding. All the classmates like him. His grades are great.”

His father beamed with pride, his eyes shining with unshed tears.

His father was very happy.

He poured me another cup, his hands shaking a little, and told me stories about Mason’s childhood—how he’d learned to read before kindergarten, how he’d once fixed the toaster with a paperclip.

I turned my head and saw Mason. His expression was… difficult to read, but certainly not welcoming. His eyes were dark as he asked, “Why are you here?”

He lingered in the doorway, his backpack slung over one shoulder, sweat on his brow from the walk home. He looked both surprised and wary.

His father answered, “Lauren came to give you the physics competition form.”

He didn’t look pleased, so I finished the last sip of water, politely handed the cup to his father, and said goodbye.

I stood, smoothing my skirt, and offered a small, awkward smile before heading for the door.

Mason paused, then stood in front of me and said he’d walk me out.

He grabbed his jacket, holding the door open for me. The hallway was narrow, our shoulders almost brushing as we walked.

We walked side by side to the alley entrance. The setting sun stretched our shadows long. Neither of us spoke, until we were almost at the entrance, when he said, “You’re the first to finish the water.”

His voice was quiet, almost amused, but there was a seriousness beneath it.