It was the start of lunch period, and students of Heldale High milled around the parking lot like bees swarming out of a hive. The sun was high, casting a warm golden glow across the rows of bikes, beaters, and a few lucky kids' shiny cars.
Kant stood near the back gate of the school, arms folded, gaze fixed on the road outside. He checked his watch. Again.
"Late," he muttered. "Should've known."
Just as he said it, the unmistakable hum of his car's engine crept into hearing. Tam's favorite playlist—a chaotic mix of retro funk and questionable rap—echoed from a cracked window.
Kant narrowed his eyes.
Tam pulled into the lot, grinning like he was arriving on a red carpet. The car glided to a stop, smooth as ever. No screeches, no smoke, no suspicious bumping noises. The exterior parts looked unusually clean. Just... normal.
Kant blinked. He wasn't used to this kind of delivery.
Tam stepped out dramatically, tossing the keys into the air and catching them with a flair only he would dare try. "Your chariot, my good sir, returned in pristine condition—possibly even better than before."
Kant walked toward the car slowly, cautiously. Like it might bite.
Tam stood off to the side, whistling proudly with his hands in his pockets.
Kant circled the car. Once. Twice. Ran a palm over the hood. Checked the mirrors. Bent down to look under the front bumper. Opened the door. Sniffed.
"No weird smell," Kant said under his breath.
"What was that?" Tam asked, squinting.
Kant didn't answer. He kept inspecting.
The tires—intact. The dashboard—clean. No mystery crumbs, no perfume stench, no glitter (unlike the last time). Even the floor mats were brushed down.
Kant finally closed the door and faced him.
"No scratches," he said, as if it were a question.
Tam grinned wider. "Not even one. I drove like a gentleman. No sudden stops. No racing. No drifting. Just... smooth."
"You didn't eat in it?"
"Swore off snacks. I even made the girls finish their bubble gum before entering."
Kant stared at him with a wide smirk, suspicion hanging in the air like mist. "Why?"
Tam tilted his head . "Why what?"
"Why did you actually take care of it this time?"
Tam scratched the back of his head, slightly sheepish for once. "Dunno. Maybe it's my way of making up for the times I wrecked it."
Kant's lips tugged into a reluctant smile. "That... was unexpectedly deep."
"Don't get used to it." Tam winked. "Also, I might need it again next weekend."
Kant rolled his eyes, catching the keys from Tam's outstretched hand. "Dream on."
It was the first time Tam returned his car in one piece—and honestly, Kant wasn't sure if that made him happy... or terrified.