Short Stories-Lingorm

Rebel Hearts

Lingling Kwong was the school’s notorious rebel. Everyone knew her—the girl who skipped classes, showed up with her leather jacket and tousled hair, and never seemed to care about the rules. She had a sharp mind, but it was buried beneath layers of rebellion and defiance. Teachers tried to reach her, but Ling didn’t care about academics or fitting in. She lived by her own rules, riding her motorcycle around town and avoiding any kind of responsibility.

Orm, on the other hand, was the school’s golden girl. As the head of the baton troupe, she was admired for her grace, precision, and leadership. Always composed and polished, she represented everything the school valued—discipline, elegance, and hard work. Orm had a future planned out: top grades, a scholarship to her dream university, and a life that followed the script of success.

Their paths rarely crossed, and when they did, it was like fire and ice. Ling couldn’t help but roll her eyes whenever she saw Orm leading the baton troupe in perfect unison, their routines flawless under her command. Orm, meanwhile, viewed Ling as an enigma, someone who wasted her potential by throwing away every chance she had.

But one day, their worlds collided.

It was during the school’s annual festival, where the baton troupe was set to perform. Orm was overseeing the preparations, making sure everything was in place for the big performance, when Ling wandered into the gym, drawn by the commotion. She leaned against the doorframe, watching the troupe practice with mild curiosity. It wasn’t her scene, but there was something captivating about Orm as she moved with such precision, leading her team effortlessly.

Orm, catching sight of Ling out of the corner of her eye, tried to ignore her presence. But Ling’s gaze was unnerving, and Orm found herself faltering in her routine, something that rarely happened.

“Is there a reason you’re here?” Orm asked, annoyance creeping into her voice as she approached Ling, wiping the sweat from her brow.

Ling shrugged, smirking. “Just seeing what all the fuss is about. Didn’t think twirling batons could be so serious.”

Orm’s eyes narrowed. “If you’re just here to make fun of us, you can leave.”

“Relax, Miss Perfect. I’m just observing,” Ling said, raising her hands in mock surrender. “Besides, maybe I’m impressed.”

Orm blinked, thrown off by Ling’s unexpected comment. “Impressed? By what, exactly?”

Ling’s smirk softened into something more genuine. “By you. I didn’t think anyone could be so… in control all the time.”

Orm was taken aback. No one ever saw that side of her, the effort it took to keep everything together. She studied Ling for a moment, trying to figure out if the rebel was mocking her or being sincere. There was something unsettling about Ling’s intense gaze, something that made Orm feel exposed.

“You should try it sometime,” Orm said, her tone a mix of challenge and curiosity. “Try being in control instead of running away from everything.”

Ling raised an eyebrow, the playful smirk returning. “And miss all the fun? Where’s the thrill in being perfect all the time?”

Orm crossed her arms, her expression unwavering. “It’s not about perfection; it’s about dedication and passion. But I get it—you wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me,” Ling shot back, stepping closer. The challenge in her voice ignited something in Orm. They stood inches apart, tension crackling between them like electricity.

“Okay,” Orm said, her heart racing. “Let’s make a deal. Join us for practice, and I’ll show you what it means to be part of something. No skipping out, no rebellion.”