everyone knows maddie and mackenzie ziegler. abby lee's favorite dancers. but let's throw one more into the mix, malia ziegler. the oldest half sister of maddie and mackenzie.
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the second bell rang and mr. gordon had already launched into his usual all-caps whiteboard scribble: CAUSES OF WORLD WAR I.
oliver sat halfway back, flipping through his notes with exactly zero intention of reading them. beside him, kaz was half-asleep with a mechanical pencil lodged in his hoodie sleeve like it was a weapon.
"where's malia? she wasn't even in pe." oliver muttered, glancing toward the door.
kaz sighed. "do you ever check the group chat?
"i've had a test in every class today. so no."
kaz just smirked, "her mom picked her up during her art class in 3rd to go to dance for a solo or something. again. "
"again? didn't she do that like... last thursday?"
"and tuesday. and the wednesday before that."
as if summoned by sheer dramatic timing, the classroom door swung open. in walked malia—slightly sweaty, glowing, and wearing starbound hoodie and shorts with her hair in a messy bun and a venti strawberry açaí refresher from starbucks, which she tried to hide behind her notebook.
"miss ortiz," mr. gordon said, deadpan. "joining us from...?"
"uhh," she faked a breathy cough, "the doctor's. for...chronic cramping."
oliver bit the inside of his cheek. kaz silently clapped.
mr. gordon didn't even flinch. "well, i hope your cramps can explain militarism. since you're clearly refreshed."
malia smiled sweetly. "totally. militarism is when a country is, like, super into building up its army and weapons so they can be intimidating or start stuff."
a pause.
"...that's... actually not the worst answer I've heard today," mr. gordon admitted with a sigh.
kaz leaned over his desk toward her as she sat down between him and oliver. "did you even go to the doctor?"
"nope. straight from pirouettes to world war one," she whispered, unzipping her bag with one hand and pulling out her notebook. "my mom literally dropped me off two minutes ago with hair gel still in my bun."
"icon," oliver said, as malia started stretching her calves under the desk.
mr. gordon turned back to the board. "alright. let's talk about alliances. malia, maybe you can resist forming one with the back row today?"
