I chose to enroll in this school because I wanted to change my personality from being quiet to having many friends so they could protect me from bullying.
Sister Helena once said that you can't be like a weak person at AB College because the kids there are naughty.
Nazma looked at the bedroom wardrobe in front of her. Naughty? There was none of that.
All of her elementary school friends chose schools other than AB College, and that was the gap Nazma was looking for. Here, no one knew her as the boring, quiet girl. She wanted to be free to realize herself, transforming into a blonde female character from her favorite romance anime. A character who always liked to smile, was warm, and spread kindness to everyone.
"I am very afraid of bullying," she whispered softly, her voice almost lost in the silence of the room. "I want to have an older sibling who can protect me. But I am an only child."
She looked up, staring at the rows of dusty dolls on top of the wardrobe.
Back when she was little, she used to spend hours playing with dolls alone in the corner of the room. She created imaginary conversations, roleplaying the older sibling figure she never had, and built fortresses out of pillows to feel safe.
In front of her now was a small phone screen still displaying a measurement tool simulation.
She looked back at the precise lines on the Vernier Calipers intently. Nazma began to read each number slowly, spelling out the millimeter units. One by one she noticed the lines until they coincided perfectly. She earnestly swallowed every theory of the Micrometer Screw.
Nazma opened the first page of her science notebook. In the top right corner, a name was written in very smooth black ink: Mrs. Nurul S.Pd. She intentionally wrote that name complete with every title. To her, the teacher's name was precious. Writing it was a prayer so that she could soon get to know the figure behind that name. She wanted to be close, she wanted to learn, she wanted to relate.
Nazma realized she needed to be recognized, needed to be heard, and needed protection.
Memorizing the teacher's name and title was her first step to no longer being like before.
"One by one," she whispered, while stroking the surface of her book paper.
She refocused her eyes on the phone screen displaying the micrometer scale. If she could conquer these numbers, maybe she could become the favorite student.
***
"DAMN, I KEPT LOSING MY PUSH RANK LAST NIGHT! THE RANK JUST WON'T GO UP!"
A fair-skinned boy's voice echoed from the back row, shattering the remnants of silence in Nazma's head.
"Oi! Be quiet, new kid! Can you shut up? We are writing!" Milan barked from the back.
Fierce, until the classroom atmosphere suddenly became stiff.
The barking sound made Nazma instantly look back. There stood a boy whose appearance was very similar to the malelead character from the anime she often watched.
His brown hair was messy. His facial expression was grinning because he had just been scolded by the short girl earlier.
After being glared at by Milan, the boy immediately worked on his assignment in his notebook again.
Bright Gilard.
The person sitting three rows behind Zemiro.
A new student? she thought.
Her round eyes blinked slowly, performing a visual scan from the tips of his hair to the way the boy held his pen. Nazma froze for a moment with her mouth slightly open. Her expression looked confused yet admiring. She saw a fictional character step out of the screen and sit in her classroom chair.
Nazma's forehead creased slightly, creating a small fold between her neat eyebrows. She tilted her head, staring at Bright with an inquiring gaze as if looking for a glitch in her school system.
Her lips pursed a little, showing real wonder. Usually, the homeroom teacher would excitedly introduce a new student in front of the class first, but why didn't he?
A second later, her questioning gaze faded. Nazma refocused on her summary.
She cracked a thin smirk at the corner of her lips. Whatever.
Her face suddenly turned flat and cold. The glow of admiration for the "anime character" earlier vanished, replaced by a sharp gaze focused entirely on the rows of letters in her notebook. To her, the history assignment was more important.
"There, the summary is finished."
After making sure all her writing was neat, Nazma stood up from her seat. She walked toward the teacher's desk with steps measured in such a way to look calm and confident. I have to walk the right way, so I'm like that cool girl character in the anime. She placed her book at the very top of the pile, ensuring the corners of the paper were perfectly aligned, then turned back and sat down again with a sense of satisfaction.
However, the silence of her achievement only lasted a few seconds.
When Nazma was perfectly seated in her chair again, the sound of a chair shifting was heard. Nazma reflexively glanced, and her heart gave a small reaction.
Zemiro.
The boy stood up too. Nazma held her breath slightly as she watched Zemiro walk toward the teacher's desk.
He writes fast too ... Nazma thought while continuing to watch the boy's back.
She noticed something new; Zemiro's shoulders looked a bit stiff and his gait was slightly hunched, as if there was a burden he was carrying on his shoulders.
Nazma did not let go of her gaze until Zemiro returned to his place.
He could really be an exciting rival, she thought. Her memory drifted to a scene from a shounen anime she had once watched, where two main characters clashed muscles, sparking fire to prove who was the strongest on the battlefield.
Nazma felt the same sensation creepinginto her chest. If this school was her world now, then Zemiro was the final boss she had to overcome.
I will defeat you! The determination welled up in her heart.
While gripping her pen tightly, Nazma wore a thin smile. Her face was clean without makeup. Both of her eyes narrowed kindly with the corners of her lips lifted symmetrically. She lowered her gaze slightly toward the desk, hiding her face.
Her gaze tilted sharply. I won't let anyone win over me.