"You're late," Mrs Cuthbert said through gritted teeth, her eyes like daggers as she stared at Kelly High's star student standing by the doorway. "Again."

Noor let out a tired breath. She had run all the way here from the Top Courts. "I'm sorry, Mrs Cuthbert. I just lost track of time —"

"Excuses, Ms Rahal, excuses," the elder lady huffed, shaking her head at Noor.

Noor gave her a minute. Then, thinking she was done telling her off, Noor began to head over to her seat at the end of the table, where she was assigned to sit when she was appointed captain of the debate club at the start of the year.

But, just when she took her first step, Mrs Cuthbert called for her again. "No, no," she instructed, her finger moving left to right. She then pointed to the chair in front of her desk. "Over here."

Noor followed, willing herself not to roll her eyes. When she was finally seated, Mrs Cuthbert said, "This new behaviour is very unlike you, Ms Rahal. You were always punctual, well-mannered, on top of everything — some of the reasons why I made you captain — but now you can barely make to sessions on time."

"I'm sorry, Mrs Cuthbert," Noor said again, biting the inside of her cheek. She had been missing out on debate club recently because she was spending more time with Fletcher and the others after school. And, truth be told, Noor ever really enjoyed debate. It only gave her more work to do over the weekends.

"It is unacceptable," Mrs Cuthbert went on. "Explain yourself."

"I've just..." Noor could feel the other debate members staring at her now, peering into their conversation. "I've been busy with other stuff lately..."

"And you've always managed," the teacher continued. "You knew the responsibilities you would have been given when you were appointed for captain, and you told me you were well-capable enough to handle them."

"I know, but —" She looked up at Mrs Cuthbert, pleading with her eyes. "What if I just step down? That way there wouldn't be much of a prob—"

"Absolutely not!" Mrs Cuthbert gasped. Her eyes grew wide in horror. "Step down? Are you out of your mind, Ms Rahal?"

"What's the big deal?" Noor shot back, the fire in her heart coming alive again. She's been doing this more often lately, answering back. And, admittedly, she quite liked it. "I'm just stepping down. It's not like I'm leaving."

"Well, you might as well quit," Mrs Cuthbert reputed. "You're a good captain, Noor — probably the best we've ever had — and you want to step down just like that? Where's your drive? Your passion?"

I don't have any, Noor thought. I've never had any. Because, for Noor, debate club was just a little thing she could put on her CV, to show college administrators how great of a student she was, to convince them she was good enough to go to their college.

It was never about passion, nor drive. It was always about convenience and making her parents proud. It was never about what Noor wanted, or cared about.

Then, somewhere in the recesses of her mind, she heard Junko say, "What's it worth pleasing anyone when people can't be pleased?"

And Noor held onto them — held on to them for dear life — because she wanted to believe. Wanted it to be true. At this moment — in between all the irritation, self-doubt, and desperation — Noor somehow found the courage to speak her mind.

"I don't have any," Noor finally said aloud. "I quit."

Then she left the room without looking back, with the air frozen and stiff behind her, and with Mrs Cuthbert's mouth hung wide open.

—

Noor knew she was in trouble the second she came home.

Her parents were seated on the old family couch in the living, their backs to the fireplace and their gaze focused solely on their daughter. On instinct, Noor walked across towards the single couch.

However, she refused to sit down. Not today. Because she did nothing wrong.

Because, for once, she did something right for herself.

"We got a phone call from Mrs Cuthbert this afternoon," her mum said, hands on her lap. To a normal person, her mother would have looked pristine and poised, but to Noor, she looked terrifying. "What's this about you leaving the debate team?"

"Mama, I —"

"Have you no shame?" Her dad cut in, his tone deathly serious that it sent shivers down Noor's spine. "Not only do you quit — out of the blue — but you make a scene? Again? In front of your teacher and all your classmates?"

Her mind was running too fast for Noor to catch up. "It just happened, baba —"

"We did not raise you like this, Noor," her mother intervened. Her tone was steady, but her eyes were sharp and cold. "We raised you to be polite, well-behaved—"

"I am."

"You are most certainly not," her dad finished. He turned away from her as if the sight of her was too disappointing for him. Noor felt her heart drop right then. "It's a good thing your teacher cares about you. She says you can still come back to the debate club. You will accept her offer."

Noor clenched her fist and, despite being utterly petrified, said, "No."

At her answer, her father's eyebrows shot up. "Excuse me?"

"I said no," Noor repeated, standing her ground. "I will not accept her offer."

"Do not argue with us, Noor —"

"What's the big deal, mama?" Noor interjected, her voice louder and more determined. "It's just debate club."

"No, it is not," baba said, his voice shaking the room. "It's about responsibility. Your academics. You give up debate first, then what? The newsletter? Student council?"

"No! Jeez," Noor cried, then flinched when she saw her parents' unapproving frowns. "I just don't want to do debate anymore, okay?"

"Nonsense," her mother heaved, crossing her arms. "You're just not working hard enough."

Her mum's words sparked something in Noor — hurt, pent-up anger perhaps — because she found herself no longer holding back. "I have been working hard enough. I've always been working hard enough. You just don't see it."

"No, it's you who can't see," her dad shot back, now on his feet. "Everything your mother and I have done — everything that we're still doing — to come here and give you a bright future —"

"I know, dad. God, I know," Noor said breathlessly because she was tired. Hell, she was so tired. "You tell me every day and — I'm so sick of it. Because, every time you bring it up, I feel guilty, and I try to make it up to you, but it's never enough."

She was looking at her parents now, their expressions unreadable. But they weren't angry, it seemed, not really. Only silent and confused.

"I've done everything I can to make you proud," Noor desperately pleaded. "Please, please, just this once. Let me be."

She stared at her parents then, whose eyes were unable to meet her's. They were quiet for a long time, until her mother eventually said, "We'll talk about it." She looked up at Noor, and added, "But you're grounded. For a week. Go to your room."

And Noor followed, without protest or complaint, because the fight had knocked the wind right out of her. But, in spite of this, she found herself relax, and she breathed out. When she entered her room and saw her bedroom mirror, Noor couldn't help but smile at the girl standing on the other side.