April 23 – Tuesday / St. Ivy High – Class 1-A
Drizzle and Deadlines
The spring rain hadn't let up since dawn.
Jay stepped onto campus beneath a grey sky, a soft drizzle turning the cobblestones slick with water. He didn't carry an umbrella—just his blazer pulled a little tighter, and a quiet determination in his steps.
Inside, the building buzzed with an energy both focused and fraying. Second day of finals. Today's subject: English Literature & Essay Composition. Not everyone's favourite, but no one dared slack off.
Class 1-A was quieter than usual when Jay walked in. The only sound was the occasional rustle of notes, the creak of chairs, and the soft tick of the wall clock inching toward exam hour.
Tyler sat cross-legged on his desk chair, mumbling poetry terms under his breath like they were hexes.
Emma had a small tower of color-coded cue cards arranged like a fortress. She didn't look up as Jay entered but reached over and slid one more card into place.
Amaya was sketching calligraphy phrases across the top of her notes, her pen looping gently, hands steady but quiet.
Jay moved to his seat, which had begun to feel like his seat again.
Sofia wasn't there yet.
Not that he was surprised.
She arrived, as always, with a flourish—just before the bell, wearing an oversized jacket draped over one shoulder, her phone half tucked in her pocket, and a hot can of vending machine coffee in hand.
She flopped into the seat beside Jay, exhaled dramatically, and muttered, "Tell me we're not doing Shakespeare again."
Jay smirked. "If we are, I call dibs on being the ghost."
Sofia blinked. "Dark. I like it."
Pairs and Paragraphs
At exactly 8:10, Mr. Brooks entered the room.
He wore his usual charcoal blazer, sleeves slightly rolled, the fabric showing faint signs of wear from years of wrestling teens into academic success. In one hand, he carried a stack of folders. In the other, a tall thermal mug etched with Coffee = Confidence.
He didn't speak right away. Just dropped the folders on his desk and uncapped a marker, scrawling across the board:
Exam 2: English Language & Literary Essay
Section A – Analysis / Section B – Collaborative Essay
A ripple of murmurs passed through the class.
"Collaborative?" someone muttered.
Brooks turned. "Yes. Because your generation has forgotten the noble art of arguing without emojis."
A groan followed.
"Pairings will be posted now," Brooks added. "And no, you don't get to change them. I don't trust your taste in lab partners or love interests."
Names appeared in quick marker strokes. Jay scanned the list.
Jay – Sofia
Emma – Miles
Tyler – Luna
Amaya – Noah
Yuki – Shiori
Jay tilted his head. "You okay with this?"
Sofia didn't even glance. "You're the only one in class who writes with better punctuation than me. I'll survive."
Jay nodded. "I'll try not to crush your spirit."
"Don't flatter yourself. My spirit's made of steel and sarcasm."
The first half of the exam was standard comprehension. A narrative excerpt, a set of three poems, and one character monologue filled with metaphors heavy enough to sink a canoe.
Jay read quickly. Made his notes. Highlighted allusions. His pencil moved in clean, decisive strokes.
Sofia, in front of him, leaned sideways once to mutter, "If this guy compares his heartbreak to a teacup one more time, I'm filing a restraining order."
Jay whispered back, "It's a metaphor."
"It's a cry for help."
Yuki's pen didn't pause beside him, but Jay caught the faintest smirk tug at her lips.
III. Collaborative Chaos
Brooks gave the signal for the second part of the exam: a joint literary essay based on one of three prompts.
Jay and Sofia pulled their chairs together, angled between the last and second row.
She scanned the prompts. "Number two," she said instantly. "Easiest."
Jay read it aloud quietly. "'To what extent does self-perception distort character identity?'"
She shrugged. "That's basically our entire class."
Jay grinned. "You have a thesis?"
"Yeah. 'People are a mess, but it's poetic.'"
"Maybe start with something more academic?"
Sofia rolled her eyes. "Fine. Lead the intro. I'll give it flare later."
What surprised him wasn't that she could write.
It was how well she could focus when she wanted to.
Jay set the structure: Thesis, textual analysis, counterpoint, and conclusion.
Sofia filled in tone. Voice. Examples that read sharp, witty, and just theatrical enough to feel hers.
She even added a dash of humour in the final paragraph that earned a brief, involuntary laugh from Jay.
"Not bad," he muttered.
"Don't sound so shocked."
"I'm not shocked. Just pleasantly destabilized."
They worked in easy silence for several minutes. The kind not born from awkwardness, but from two people falling into step.
At one point, Sofia looked over at him and said, "You're different lately."
Jay kept his gaze on the page. "How so?"
"You listen more. Talk less. Not in a sad way. Just... like you're paying attention."
Jay considered that. Then offered a half-smile. "Maybe I am."
Sofia's voice softened. "Well, don't stop. You're easier to write with when you're not trying to prove something."
"And you're easier to write with when you're not threatening to burn the paper."
"Character development," she said smugly.
After the Bell
"Time," Mr. Brooks called. "Pencils down. Pass forward your papers or I'll pull a muscle standing up."
Sofia passed theirs ahead, then leaned sideways over her desk.
"Well, Jay Markov. I survived working with you."
He tapped his pencil against the desk. "Wasn't so bad, was it?"
She considered. Then said, "You're not half as stiff as you used to be."
He smirked. "You're not half as terrifying either."
"Yet."
The class began to trickle out, some sighing in relief, others muttering about metaphors and missed quotes.
Emma caught Jay's eye on her way past. A small smile. A knowing glance. Then she moved on, walking alongside Luna.
Amaya lingered at her desk a second longer, brushing something into her bag. She looked back once—toward Jay and Sofia—but said nothing.
Jay stood, grabbing his bag, and slung it over one shoulder.
As he reached the hallway, Sofia stepped beside him.
They walked slowly toward the stairwell.
Right before the doors, she nudged him lightly with her elbow.
"Oh, and for the record?" she said, her tone teasing but her expression unreadable.
"I could've paired with Miles. But I picked you."
Jay blinked. "You what?"
"I asked Brooks last week."
Jay stared.
"Don't make it weird," she added, brushing past him. "I just figured I'd rather work with the guy who knows the material and has decent penmanship."
"…Thanks?"
"Don't flatter yourself."
She turned the corner with a flick of her ponytail, leaving behind a faint laugh that echoed down the hallway.