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❝Kindness is power, a heart is its sword.❞

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♚ See that small orange-line star on the bottom? It costs nothing but the movement of a very few muscles to press on it. But it makes me smile as big as goofy. Xx, MD ♚

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I WALK TO THE fifth class and peer through the window, my eyes searching for the familiar, curly haired girl.

I feel a surge of relief as I finally spot her seating on the left side of the class. I've looked for her in almost all the classes in the school. I keep staring until our eyes finally meet and gesture to her to meet me outside. Stepping aside, I watch as she raises her hand and takes a hallway pass.

"Did you take that video and give it to Principal Jean?" I ask in a calm demeanor, getting straight to the point.

"Which video?"

I slam my hand in the locker next to her, making her jump a little in fear; I've been trying to stay calm for far too long. "Don't play fucking stupid with me. Did your or did you not, it's a goddamn simple question."

Her once relaxed and even bored expression turns to one of fear and alarm. "I-I wasn't the one who took the video. I just submitted it to Principal Jean."

"Then, who took it?" I ask, already knowing the answer.

She doesn't reply and shakes her head pleadingly.

"It's Phoebe isn't it?" I ask.

Her silence is all I need as I walk away, the frustration boiling making my hands shake

---

April doesn't come to school the next day or the day after that or the day after that. It's very strange and weird because it's obvious that she cares about her record.

On the third day, I can't handle the weird feeling in my gut and decide to go to her house.

I pull up to the small house with the picket fence and shut down the engine. There are dogs barking somewhere in the distance and a police siren wailing in the background as I step out of the car and approach the door.

I take a deep breath and ring the doorbell once . . . twice.

The door slowly creaks open but only enough to reveal the part of the body frame of a short, curvy woman. Her brown hair is cut in a short bob and her soft features are similar to those of April's. She places a small and weary smile on her face as she sees me.

"Is April- uh, I mean, hi, I'm India Ferngdon," I smile and extend my hand. I was never that good in greetings.

Taking my hand, she returns a smile of her own. "Ellen Robbins, April's mom."

"Can I meet her?" I ask, my eyes involuntarily fleeting behind her head curiously.

"She's not here." She gives me an apologetic smile and I furrow my eyebrows.

"Not here? Where is she, then?"

"Horseback riding."

My mind flashes when I remember her talking about it last week.

"Oh. When does she come back?" I ask.

"I'll tell her as soon as she does to give you a call." In other words, April doesn't want to meet anyone.

"Thank you. Please tell her it's important," I say, my eyes pleading, before she can shut the door.

She purses her lips and nods before bidding me goodbye and closing the door. I stay in my spot, not moving for a long while, my mind whirring.

Why wouldn't she want to see me? I get it, maybe she just wants some space, but I'd never think it'd be from me. All I've been doing from the beginning of the year is protecting her and being her friend.

Now that I think about it, I've never seen April with anyone other than me. Her nose is always in a book or hidden somewhere else . . . never with a boyfriend -- ex-boyfriend. But then again, I don't see April around school that often.

I push these thoughts away as I turn into Phoebe's neighborhood. It is one of the prettiest in town with lots of trees lining the sides of the clean roads. All the houses are large with high roofs and big backyards. Her's specifically is one of the biggest in the neighborhood with a fountain that has a Cupid spouting water out of its mouth.

Passing the gate, I roll the windows down to meet the guards.

"Good morning, Miss. Ferngdon," Don says. He's the one in charge by the gates. Next to him, Harrison nods in greeting.

"Hey, guys." I smile warmly and they pull the gates open. Don and Harrison have been the guards by Phoebe's house for as long as I can remember and they're very nice men. It's too bad that they're working for the Yang's family; I think we all established that they're not that nice.

I close the windows again and drive further into the house. After parking the car, I step out and walk to the front doors, the sounds of birds chirping happily play in the background.

After ringing the doorbell once, the door opens to reveal Phoebe in her workout clothes.

"Hey," she says, opening the door wider to let me in. I follow her inside as she walks to the kitchen, her high ponytail bouncing.

"Hi." I grab a banana from the fruit bowl and peel it, taking a bite.

"What is it?" she asks.

"I need to ask you something." I watch as she opens the fridge and grabs a water bottle. It seems that she still didn't start the workout, judging by the lack of sweat on her. "You're the one who took the video of April and gave it to the cheerleaders."

She throws her head back and chimes a laugh. "That's not a question, honey."

"You need to tell everyone that you forced him on April," I say, ignoring her statement. That is the only possible explanation for what happened. As much as I think he's a big player, I also think that he's been with Piper for far too long to throw himself on someone. Plus, that someone is April. It's not about her looks, but it's about how he barely knows her to approach her like that; it obviously wasn't lust.

A flick of surprise passes her face before it's replaced with her accustomed expression; it's the one that shows she's in control of everything and has it all under her fingertips. "It's not going to change a thing."

I narrow my eyes at her irritatedly. We both know very well that the whole school will follow and keep whatever comes out of her mouth close to their heart. "It's going to change everything."

"You're right it is," she muses quietly, running a hand through her hair and down her ponytail. "Have you heard of the story of the lion and cheetah?"

I roll my eyes and exhale. That's Phoebe for you. She plays games and gives you riddles; gets your mind working. I realize it's one of her tricks when being in control. And it annoys the hell out of me. "I'm tired of playing your games. I'm leaving."

"No, no, stay. It's a very interesting story." She smiles. "So, let me introduce our two characters. We-"

"This isn't story time in kindergarten-"

"As I was saying," she says, her tone hinged with annoyance because I interrupted her, "our characters are obviously the lion and the cheetah. The lion and cheetah both had it all in someway. They both had plenty of power in everyone's eyes and they were loved and admired by everyone."

Seeing that there isn't that much of a choice, I sigh and plot my butt on one of the stools by the counter.

"The lion and cheetah had a weird relationship with each other. At times there was tension and at times there wasn't. The presence of the tension was obviously because they had the greatest power, but both wanted to beat each other to get to the highest level.

"One day, the beautiful queen of the jungle, the leopard, hosted a competition for the strongest animals in the jungle. She was the fairest of all and followed all the rules so she was the judge. It would be judged based on speed, strength, and intelligence. The winner would gain the hand and love of the beautiful leopard."

"Can you please fast forward a bit," I say, looking at the time on my phone, "I haven't got all day."

Ignoring me, she continues. "As expected, the competition narrowed down to the cheetah and lion, and as it got harder, the tension between them thickened. Finally, the last game was the race. It started off with the cheetah leading due to his high speed, but once they were close to the finish line, the lion tripped and was hurt. The cheetah ponders over it but decides on going back to help him. The race continues but the lion got a head start, so he wins.

"This story is different because the beautiful leopard chooses the winner, not the nicer animal — as I said before, she always followed all the rules. In this story, the lion wins."

I stand up and look at her irritatedly. "Why are you telling me this?"

"You know why I'm telling you this," she says whilst sitting down, a chilling smile on her face.

I shake my head. "I'm leaving, Phoebe."

I grab my keys and phone and leave her standing in the kitchen with that same smile. I turn the door knob and shut it behind me frustratedly.

Stepping into the car, I turn the engine on and speed out of her house with a thought in my mind.

She thinks I'm the cheetah and she's the lion. She thinks that I'm being nice to April to beat her in what ever illusional competition is between us.

Well, she thought wrong.

---

I stop the car by April's house for the second time today and turn the engine off. I'm not sure if it's only me or if the neighborhood is eerily quiet. Even when I step out of the car; no birds are chirping, no dogs are barking, and the sounds of a distant lawnmower turned on is no longer here.

Ignoring the weird gut feeling, I jab my thumb on the doorbell and stand back. Almost immediately, the door is flung open. Standing in the doorway is a hopeful and frantic woman. Her face is red, and her eyes puffy; the results of crying a lot. Once she sees me, her face drops in disappointment, making me silently question her. Who did she expect and why is she crying?

"Hi, Mrs. Robbins, is April here? I really really need to talk to her. And it can't wait," I plead.

I don't know if I said something wrong because a tear falls on to her cheek. When she speaks, her voice is thick and broken. "Haven't you heard?"

"No," I say, the feeling in my stomach worsening. I suddenly feel like throwing up on her floral, blue blouse.

The next words she says do not help.

"April's missing." She erupts into more tears.