Chapter 4: The Stairway Showdown

A senior’s pace was fast.

Emily’s stride was purposeful, heels clicking across the linoleum. The smell of cafeteria pizza and bleach drifted up from the commons below. Someone’s locker slammed shut, making a few heads turn. She moved like someone who owned the hallway.

After a few minutes—

The old gym building came into view. It loomed over the quad, its brick façade covered in faded banners from decades of sports victories. The American flag out front snapped in the wind, every inch of the place buzzing with memories of pep rallies and homecoming games.

At the top was the auditorium, where the club held meetings. Heavy doors carved with the names of graduating classes swung open to reveal a space charged with anticipation.

“No running in the main building!”

Several students rushed over, forming a blockade at the stairs, arms crossed, matching team hoodies on. Their sneakers squeaked against the tile—wannabe bouncers at a high school club, if you could believe it.

A few sophomores, high on club status, actually dared to block a senior’s path?

Alex nearly laughed. Who put them in charge?

“No running in the main building? Since when?”

He crossed his arms, a playful grin on his lips.

The words hung in the air. A couple juniors exchanged glances, clearly trying to remember if this was an actual rule or just made up.

According to the story’s plot, these were the underclassman’s loyalists, setting a trap for Emily—forcing her to take the stairs, so she’d be late and look guilty.

By the time she arrived, everyone would have already sided with the underclassman.

Alex’s expression darkened.

No way he’d play by their script.

The group exchanged glances, like they’d rehearsed this.

“The rule was just set by the faculty advisor. Didn’t expect you to be the first to break it.”

“From now on, anyone going to the auditorium has to take the stairs.”

One of them spoke mockingly. The others snickered, puffing out their chests like they’d just been named hall monitors of the year.

For sophomores, seeing a senior get put in their place was a rare treat. They grinned, already imagining the lunch table bragging rights.

Emily whispered anxiously, “They’re from the faculty advisor’s group. Offending them could be trouble. Let’s just take the stairs.”

Her voice was barely a whisper. Emily always tried to avoid drama, even when it cost her.

“Let me ask you something.”

Alex said calmly, “By the time you finish climbing, the blame will almost certainly be pinned on you. If I gave your body back, what would you do?”

He caught her reflection in the trophy case, steady and unwavering. Now was the time for strategy, not retreat.

Emily thought. “I’m a senior, so I’m faster than anyone. I’d just hurry up the stairs.”

Her voice was hopeful, but Alex could hear the doubt. She was too used to following rules.

Alex shook his head slightly.

Emily added, “Then... maybe I’d just sit at the bottom. After a while, the president would come down to find me. He’d definitely punish these guys for abusing their power.”

As she spoke, Emily grew more convinced. The president had always seemed fair, separating business and personal stuff. She believed only he could stand up for her.

Her faith in him was almost touching. But Alex knew better.

Alex sighed lightly. Still the wrong mindset.

Depending on others was pointless—especially when the president was already siding with the underclassman.

So much for fairness.

Emily once got punished for accidentally taking a snack from the club fridge—three days of cleaning duty. The underclassman raided the fridge, took a whole box, and just got a laugh and a warning.

Alex felt a tightness in his chest. He almost forgot he was in a girl’s body now. Too much anger wasn’t good for the chest. He tried to breathe deep, but the bra dug into his ribs—a new, uncomfortable reminder.

Their ghostly conversation was invisible to outsiders. To everyone else, Emily just seemed to be hesitating.

The group’s attitude turned nasty.

“Emily, still not moving?”

“Either take the stairs or get lost.”

“Don’t act like you’re special just because you’re a senior.”

“You think being a senior means anything?”

The words stung, bouncing off the cinderblock walls like a dare.

Alex’s eyes sharpened. He smiled innocently. “Could you repeat that last part?”

He let the question hang in the air, giving them a chance to back down.

“Huh?” They looked at each other, confused.

“You think being a senior means anything?” one of them repeated.

Before he finished—

Alex stepped forward with confidence, brushing them aside as if shooing away flies. His movement was slow and casual, but to the sophomores, it was like getting steamrolled. Their little wall of defiance fell apart instantly.

They tumbled down the stairs like bowling pins. A couple landed in a heap, groaning, one losing a shoe that clattered down after him.

For a moment, groans echoed through the hall. A janitor poked his head out, eyebrows raised, then shrugged—nothing he hadn’t seen before.

“As club members who abuse your power, you deserve what you get. And let me tell you: being a senior really does mean something.”

Alex’s voice was steady, but everyone heard it loud and clear. A few freshmen in the corner exchanged wide-eyed looks, silently vowing never to cross a senior.

He was about to leave, but angry voices rang out from below:

“Emily, you actually hit us!”

“We might not be club officers, but we’re not people you can mess with!”

“When we tell the faculty advisor, you’ll be sorry!”

“You’re done for!”

Alex paused on the stairs, letting their threats hang in the air. He turned back, giving them a look that could freeze boiling water.

Emily hovered near the ceiling, hands over her mouth. She’d never seen anyone stand up for her like that—not even herself.