A small tuft of messy hair sat down next to William Carter, swaying twice with the movement, as if searching for a signal.

"Morning, William Carter!"

"Morning."

William Carter turned his head and replied.

He was a bit distracted, reading his book without really absorbing much. For some reason, the words of that boy from the day before yesterday kept echoing in his mind, popping up from time to time.

This made him quite troubled, and brought on a vague sense of melancholy.

A day in the final sprint month before the college entrance exam was extremely dull—endlessly doing practice questions, finishing one test paper after another, then waiting for the teacher to go over them. Or self-study, with the teacher sitting at the podium dealing with students lining up to ask questions. For students working hard to sprint to the finish, every day like this was hard to endure, but if you slacked off, the day would pass in a flash.

William Carter felt he had wasted the whole day, and by the afternoon he was quite guilty. He wanted to push himself a bit more—every extra point would count in the end.

The last class of the afternoon.

Not long after class started, the Mr. Smith appeared outside the classroom, cheerfully greeted the Mr. Clark who was playing on his phone, and walked straight in. She hadn't even reached the podium when her face quickly darkened.

She placed the form she was holding on the teacher's desk. The Mr. Clark immediately leaned over, his eyebrows rising with his mood.

The classroom quieted down. Seeing the Mr. Smith's expression and the Mr. Clark's obvious "ready for the drama" look, some students who knew they hadn't done well braced themselves for a scolding.

"We teachers all worked overtime last night to grade your papers, but the results made me really angry!"

"What is going on with you all?"

"So many people didn't get the scores they should have!"

"Who can tell me why?"

"......"

Ten minutes of lecturing left many students silent, shrinking their necks and hiding their faces behind the books on their desks.

Then the Mr. Smith started calling out names for criticism. The first few only got a couple of sentences, but the further down the list, the longer the scolding—clearly, she had ranked them.

By the end, Mrs. Smith's mouth was a bit dry. She looked down at the last name on the list.

A name circled so many times in red pen that the paper was torn through.

"Emily Thompson, stand up!"

"Whoosh!"

The tuft of messy hair next to William Carter shot up, and a tall figure stood.

He couldn't help but turn his head, looking up.

Emily Thompson's hair had been dyed, but that was before senior year. Now only the tips were a bit yellow, and since it hadn't been cared for, it looked a little frizzy.

The messy hair stopped swaying.

The Mr. Smith Mrs. Johnson shouted sternly, "Last time you ranked eighteenth in the class, this time thirty-fifth! Tell me, what's going on with you!"

Emily Thompson hesitated, not even sure herself: "Bad luck?"

"Nonsense! Are you going to rely on luck for the college entrance exam too?"

"I've told you so many times to be steady, to be steady—when are you going to fix this problem?"

"You—"

"You're the only one in the whole class with such big fluctuations..."

A scolding that lasted at least five minutes, as long as the total for the previous ten students, but Emily Thompson didn't care. She just stared seriously at Mrs. Johnson's face, thinking about what delicious food she'd have tonight.

When Mrs. Johnson finally paused, parched and swallowing, Emily Thompson helpfully reminded her, "Mrs. Johnson, class is almost over..."

"Class, my foot! You still want class? Do you still want to get into college?"

"I do."

"With you like this, college my foot!"

"Oh."

"You still 'oh'!" Mrs. Johnson looked at her "dead pig unafraid of boiling water" expression and was so angry she almost went over and dragged the girl around the classroom by her ear three times.

Another round of scolding, this time with a clear rhythm.

Emily Thompson listened obediently, eager to leave.

The Mr. Clark next to them didn't even want to read his novel anymore, grinning like a fool.

Before anyone realized it, the bell rang. Facing Mrs. Johnson's anger, Emily Thompson quietly reminded her, "Mrs. Johnson, it's my dad's birthday today, I need to go home early for dinner, so..."

"You still want to go home for dinner! How are you going to explain these grades to your parents? Are you going to tell your dad at the dinner table that you ranked thirty-fifth? How many students are there in the class, huh? How are you going to explain that?"

"I'll just tell my mom I ranked fifteenth."

"Pfft!" The Mr. Clark couldn't hold it in.

"You... you're going to be the death of me!" Mrs. Johnson was furious.

"Take care of your health, Mrs. Johnson!"

"You'll be the death of me sooner or later!" Mrs. Johnson glared at her. "I told you to learn more from William Carter—look how steady he is! And you, all day long, do you even know what you're doing? There's only a month left until the college entrance exam, do you know that? Do I have to move you to a special seat before you can settle down?"

Emily Thompson finally put on a guilty expression.

She'd sat in that seat before—it was pretty embarrassing, plus you couldn't find anyone to talk to in class, and it was dusty.