The next day, the School Health Unit (UKS) at Rajawali High felt colder than usual. Not because the central AC was broken, but because an atmosphere of hostility hung thick in the air, separating the President's desk and the Vice President's desk like the Berlin Wall.
Ridha sat in her leadership chair—an ergonomic synthetic leather chair she specially ordered using the "secretariat operational" budget. In her hand, the latest iPhone displayed her Instagram feed. Her thumb scrolled aggressively, pressing the like button on influencer photos, but her eyes radiated flames of jealousy.
Across the room, Alya was kneeling on the floor. Scattered around her were bright orange First Aid kits. Alya was conducting a final stock count for the Study Tour preparation, which was just days away.
"Sterile gauze, check. Rivanol, check. Triangular bandage, check. Bandage scissors, check," Alya murmured softly, ticking off the list on her clipboard. She worked in silence, efficient, and without drama.
Ridha glanced at Alya from behind her phone. A cynical snort escaped her nose.
"Why do you have to check them one by one on the floor like that?" Ridha sneered, breaking the silence. "It looks gross, you know? Better tell Abdul or the 10th graders to do it. You're the Vice President, not a warehouse coolie."
Alya didn't stop working. She inserted an antiseptic bottle into the box slot with precision.
"The 10th graders haven't memorized the difference between antiseptic and eye drops yet, Sister," Alya answered flatly without turning. "If later on the bus someone has eye irritation and gets given Betadine, who takes responsibility? The President or the Vice?"
Ridha's jaw hardened. Alya's answers were always logical, and that was what Ridha hated the most. Alya never got angry, never shouted, but every sentence stripped bare Ridha's incompetence as a leader.
Ridha stood up, stomping her feet clad in high-heeled loafers—which clearly violated uniform rules, but teachers let slide because her father was an acquaintance of the Principal. She walked to the large mirror near the sink, preening herself. She pulled out a bright red vest with the Red Cross logo on the left chest and large text "MEDICAL TEAM LEADER" on the back.
Ridha put on the vest, turning her body left and right, then took her phone. Click. Click. She took selfies with various poses.
"Look at this, Al," Ridha said with a showing-off tone. "New vest for the study tour later. Cool, right? I ordered the material from a famous distro vendor in Bandung. The color is maroon red to match my lip tint."
Alya finally turned. She glanced at the vest briefly.
"What's the material, Sister?" Alya asked.
"Premium Japanese cotton. Very breathable," Ridha answered proudly.
"Cotton absorbs water and blood, Sister," Alya commented coldly, refocusing on her medicine box. "If there's a bleeding patient and blood gets on that vest, it will be hard to remove and become a bacteria nest. Field medical standard is parachute or waterproof material for easy cleaning."
The smile on Ridha's face faded instantly. She looked at her reflection in the mirror with annoyance. Once again, Alya ruined her happy moment with boring medical facts.
"You seriously!" Ridha snapped, turning to face Alya. "Can you not act smart for just one day? I ordered this so our team looks stylish in the documentation photos! Study tour is a once-in-a-lifetime moment, Alya! We have to look good!"
Alya closed the last First Aid kit with a firm click. She stood up, patting dust off her skirt.
"Our priority is safety, Sister. Not a fashion show," Alya answered.
"Hah! Safety, safety!" Ridha scoffed. "What's gonna happen anyway? At most just carsickness or catching a cold. You're so dramatic. Just because you're a surgeon's daughter, you act like we're deploying to the Gaza warzone."
Just as Ridha finished her sentence, the UKS door flew open.
A 10th-grade student ran in with a panicked face. He was gasping for air.
"Sister! Help, Sister!" the student shouted.
Ridha jumped in shock, her phone almost dropping. "Eh, what is it?! Don't shout!"
"My friend, Sister! Budi! He fainted on the basketball court during gym class! His mouth is foaming a bit!"
Hearing the words "fainted" and "foaming", Ridha's face paled. Panic struck her eyes. She was the PMR President, but she had never handled a serious case. Usually, if someone fainted during a ceremony, she just told her juniors to give eucalyptus oil. But "foaming"? That sounded like epilepsy or poisoning.
"Oh my... what do we do..." Ridha was confused, her hands trembling clutching her expensive vest. "Call the Teacher! Call an ambulance! Eh, give him water first!"
"Don't give him water!" Alya cut in loudly. Her voice sliced through Ridha's panic.
Alya immediately grabbed the Emergency Kit bag she had just organized. She ran past Ridha, looking sharply at the reporting student.
"What's his position? Supine or on his side?" Alya asked while running out.
"Supine in the middle of the field, Sister!"
"Fool! His tongue could block the airway!" Alya sped up her run, leaving Ridha still frozen in place.
On the basketball court, a crowd of students had formed around Budi who was lying down, twitching slightly. The PE Teacher was trying to tap Budi's cheeks but looked confused.
"Move! Make way! He needs oxygen!" Alya shouted, parting the crowd.
Alya immediately knelt beside Budi. She checked the carotid pulse in the neck. Rapid and weak. She looked at Budi's mouth. There was a little froth.
"Does Budi have a history of epilepsy?" Alya asked loudly to his friends.
"Don't know, Sister! But earlier he hadn't had breakfast and was forced to run laps!" answered one of his friends.
"Not epilepsy. This is severe hypoglycemia (low blood sugar) triggering shock," Alya diagnosed quickly. Budi's cold sweat and deathly pale skin confirmed her suspicion.
Alya immediately tilted Budi's body into the recovery position so fluids in his mouth would flow out and not enter the lungs (aspiration).
"Sir, please get warm sweet tea from the canteen. Lots of sugar. Now!" Alya ordered the PE teacher. The Teacher, hypnotized by Alya's authority, immediately ran to obey.
Alya took out a small sachet of honey from her First Aid bag—an item she always carried for cases like this. She smeared the honey little by little onto Budi's inner gums. Glucose would be absorbed quickly through the oral mucosa without needing to be swallowed, avoiding choking risk.
One minute passed. Budi's twitching stopped. His breathing started to regulate.
Five minutes later, Budi's eyes blinked slowly. His skin color started to return to pink.
Cheers of relief erupted from the crowd of students.
"Crazy... Sister Alya is so cool!"
"I swear, I thought Budi was a goner."
"Earlier Sister Ridha told us to give water, lucky we didn't listen. Could've killed the kid."
Alya sighed in relief, wiping sweat from her forehead. She helped Budi sit up slowly when the sweet tea arrived.
On the edge of the field, Ridha stood frozen. She had just arrived, panting from running in high heels. Her "MEDICAL TEAM LEADER" vest looked flashy under the sunlight, but not a single person looked at her. All eyes were on Alya.
Student comments comparing the two of them pierced Ridha's ears like hot needles.
"Why is the PMR President panic-prone? Better if Sister Alya becomes the president."
"Yeah, Ridha only wins in style. When there's an incident, she's clueless."
Ridha's hands clenched tight until her freshly filed nails dug into her palms. Immense shame burned her face, but that shame quickly mutated into pure hatred. She hated Alya. She hated how Alya always looked perfect without trying. She hated how Alya stole her stage—the stage that should have been Ridha's.
Alya helped Budi stand up, assisted by Abdul. They walked back to the UKS. When passing Ridha, Alya stopped for a moment.
"Sister Ridha," Alya said softly, no mocking tone, purely professional. "Please contact Budi's parents. Ask them to pick him up because Budi needs total rest today."
Ridha looked at Alya with a toxic gaze. "Don't boss me around," she hissed softly, so softly only Alya heard. "You did it on purpose, right? You ran first on purpose so you'd look like a hero in front of everyone?"
Alya frowned, confused by the irrational accusation. "I ran because a patient's life was threatened, Sister. Time is life."
"Excuses!" Ridha looked away, stomping back to the UKS room ahead of them.
Arriving at the UKS, after Budi was handled and picked up by his parents, the atmosphere returned to being tense. Alya was reorganizing her messy First Aid bag.
Ridha sat at her desk, gripping her pen tightly. She was looking at the medical team list for the study tour.
"Alya," Ridha called coldly.
"Yes, Sister?"
"I've decided the medical team formation for the VIP Buses (Bus 1-4)," Ridha said. A cunning smile etched on her lips. "Me, Sisi, and Nita will handle Bus 1 and 2. You... you handle Bus 5."
Alya fell silent. Bus 1 and 2 were the main buses filled with teachers and elite students. Bus 5? That was the rearmost bus, usually filled with backup logistics equipment and "leftover" students who didn't get seats in the front buses.
But that wasn't the problem.
"Sister, Sisi and Nita didn't pass the CPR (Cardiopulmonary Resuscitation) exam last month," Alya protested. "They're even afraid of needles. If there's an emergency in the front bus, who handles it?"
"I'm there!" Ridha snapped.
"You panicked seeing Budi faint earlier," Alya retorted bluntly.
"That was because I was shocked!" Ridha defended herself, her voice rising. "Anyway, the President's decision is absolute! You are in Bus 5. And one more thing..."
Ridha opened her desk drawer, taking out a medicine order list.
"I canceled the additional order for high-dose Painkillers and broad-spectrum Antibiotics you proposed yesterday," Ridha said casually.
Alya's eyes widened. That was sabotage. "Why? That's vital stock, Sister! We're taking 200 people to remote areas. Physical injury risk is high."
"Expensive, Alya!" Ridha waved her hand. "The budget isn't enough. I diverted the funds to buy SPF 50 Sunblock and Vitamin C injections for whitening. The kids definitely need their skin protected more than pain meds that might not even be used."
Alya stood stiffly. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Emergency medicine budget diverted for cosmetics? This was insane. This was administrative malpractice.
"Sister Ridha, this is a severe violation," Alya's voice trembled holding back anger. "If an accident happens, sunblock can't stop bleeding."
"Don't wish for accidents! Your mouth is so salty!" Ridha stood up, challenging Alya. "Listen here. I am the President. I sign the fund requests. You are just the Vice. Your job is to obey. If you don't like it, please leave PMR. The door is wide open."
Ridha smiled victoriously. She felt she could finally trample Alya. She held control. Alya couldn't argue against organizational hierarchy.
Alya stared at Ridha for a long time. A gaze hard to decipher. In Alya's eyes, Ridha was no longer just an annoying senior. Ridha was a real threat to their cohort's safety.
But Alya knew, arguing with a fool holding power was futile. Logic wouldn't work against ego.
"Alright, Sister," Alya said finally, her voice cold and flat. "Decision noted."
Alya sat back down, pretending to continue her work. But inside her head, gears were turning fast.
Medicine stock insufficient. Personnel incompetent on the front lines. This was a disaster waiting to happen.
Alya secretly took her phone from her skirt pocket. She opened a chat app. She couldn't let this happen. She had to act outside official channels. She needed the help of someone who could manipulate data or logistics without Ridha finding out.
Her eyes fell on one contact: Rehan (XI Science 3). The computer genius whose wound she treated last month.
Alya remembered that incident well. Rehan came with a bloody hand, but he asked Alya not to record his name in the logbook. "I already deleted the CCTV footage of the corridor in front of UKS for the last 10 minutes, so there's no proof I was here," Rehan said back then. At that moment Alya realized, Rehan wasn't just an ordinary computer kid. He was a ghost.
If anyone could manipulate data without leaving a digital footprint, it was him.
Alya typed a quick message:
To: Rehan
Rehan, need help sabotaging PMR logistics system. Urgent. We need to forge a medicine order to the school's partner pharmacy before this afternoon. The lives of the entire cohort are at stake.
Alya sent the message, then deleted her chat history.
She looked at Ridha's back, who was back to happily taking selfies with her red vest.
Enjoy your small victory, Sister, Alya thought coldly. But I won't let my friends die just because of your ego.
Ridha might hold the title, but starting this second, Alya held control of the shadow operations in the UKS. This cold war had turned into a silent rescue mission. And Alya was ready to break the rules to save lives—even if it meant she had to collaborate with the school hacker.