The first thing Andrew remembered about Grace was the day she sat one desk away from him. The teacher had asked her to take the empty seat beside him. Grace nodded politely, but the way she carried herself made it clear she didn't want attention.
It was only a few minutes into the lesson when Andrew noticed her flipping through the empty pages of her notebook. She wasn't writing, just looking up at the board and back down, clearly lost. Her pen hovered above the paper but never touched it.
Without thinking much, Andrew slid his notebook closer to her desk. "Hey," he whispered, tapping the edge. "You can copy from here if you want."
Grace looked at him in surprise. For a second, her guarded look slipped. "Are you sure?"
"Yeah," he said with a shrug. "My notes aren't perfect, but they're better than nothing."
She hesitated, then gave the faintest smile. "Thank you."
It was a small exchange. Barely a handful of words. But it stayed in Andrew's mind.
A few days later, Andrew saw her again. She was sitting under the neem tree in the courtyard with a notebook on her lap. She wasn't writing—her pen rested loosely between her fingers while her eyes stared blankly at the page.
Taking a breath, Andrew walked over.
"Mind if I sit?" he asked.
Grace blinked, her usual guarded look flashing for a moment. Then she nodded. "Go ahead."
Andrew sat, leaving some space. "So… you always sit here?"
"Not always," she said quietly. "It's just… quiet."
"Can't argue with that," Andrew said. "Better than the cafeteria. Half the time it feels like a sports show in there."
The corner of Grace's lips lifted. "They are loud."
Andrew grinned. "See? You get it. Still catching up on notes?" He nodded toward her notebook.
Grace quickly shut it. "Sometimes. It helps me focus."
Her tone wasn't rude, just careful. Andrew noticed how her hand lingered on the cover, almost protective. She didn't want anyone seeing inside. So he didn't push.
"That's fair," he said. "I just use music. Headphones in, world out."
Her eyes softened. "Books do that for me. Not music. But… it feels the same."
"Then we're not that different," Andrew said lightly.
The silence that followed was comfortable. For the first time, Grace didn't seem like the unreachable girl in class. She seemed like someone he could actually talk to.
The bell rang, cutting the moment short. Students hurried inside. A voice called from down the hall.
"Andrew! There you are!"
A girl pushed through the crowd, her smile lighting up the hallway.
Sophia.
Andrew's childhood best friend.
"Skipping lunch without me again?" she teased, hands on her hips.
Andrew rolled his eyes. "Not skipping. Just… delayed."
Sophia noticed Grace and smirked. "Ohhh. So that's why."
Grace blinked.
"Grace, right?" Sophia said warmly, holding out her hand. "I've seen you in class. I'm Sophia. I've known Andrew since before he knew how to tie his shoes."
Andrew groaned. "You're never dropping that, are you?"
"Nope." Sophia grinned.
Grace hesitated, then shook her hand. "Nice to meet you."
"Great. Then you're sitting with us for lunch," Sophia announced. "No eating alone. That's my rule."
Andrew smirked. "She's bossy. You'll get used to it."
Grace let out a quiet laugh before she could stop herself.
Lunch went by in a blur of chatter. Sophia carried most of it—talking about teachers, weekend plans, even a stray cat that wouldn't leave her alone. She made Grace laugh more than once, though her laugh was soft, almost unsure, as if she wasn't used to it.
Andrew, watching from across the table, noticed the little things. How her smile sometimes faded too quickly. How her eyes dropped when laughter lasted too long. How her hand stayed close to her notebook, even while she ate.
To others, Grace looked normal. But Andrew could feel it—she carried something heavy, something hidden.
After classes, Andrew saw her near the gate, clutching her notebook against her chest.
"You heading home?" he asked.
She nodded.
"I'll walk with you," he offered.
"You don't have to."
"I know. But I want to."
She studied him for a moment, then gave a small nod.
They walked side by side. The evening breeze carried the smell of wet soil.
"You don't have to talk," Andrew said after a while. "I'm fine with just walking."
Grace gave him a surprised look. "Most people expect you to fill the silence."
"I'm not most people."
For a second, he caught it—the loneliness in her eyes, the shadow of something she couldn't say.
"You notice too much," she muttered.
"Maybe," Andrew said. "But only because I want to."
She didn't answer, just hugged her notebook tighter.
When they reached the fork in the road, she finally spoke.
"Thanks," she said softly. "For walking with me. And… for the notes."
"Anytime," Andrew replied.
She nodded once, then turned down her street.
Andrew stayed there a little longer, hands in his pockets, replaying her words.
There was a story behind her smile, behind the notebook she treated like a shield. He didn't know what it was yet—but he wanted to.
And for the first time, Grace didn't seem unreachable.