"—Shoes all scrubbed clean yet?"
Ginevra Volkova had just finished blow-drying her hair when the phone on her bed lit up.
She reached for it, thumb swiping the screen awake.
A message from Jaynara Stevens.
She stared at it for a moment, thought, then let her fingers move. She typed a single word and hit send:
"Yeah."
She'd barely started putting the phone back down when the screen lit up again—and again.
One line after another rolled in like a small, noisy wave.
"We must have hit some crazy good luck today. That was unreal. 😂"
"Don't be mad, okay? I really didn't mean to laugh at you—I just honestly couldn't hold it in. And I stepped in it too, so we're even now. 🎉"
"Not replying? Are you mad at me?? No way…"
Ginevra watched the messages pop up one by one.
It was only the first day they'd added each other.
She wasn't used to being treated like this.
Like… a friend.
Her hand curled a little tighter around the phone. She stared at the chat window, at the bright little bubbles jumping into existence. For a few seconds, she simply drifted.
From as far back as she could remember, she had never really shared herself with anyone.
It wasn't because she refused.
It was because other people did.
In the teachers' eyes, she had always been the "top student." People pinned soft labels on her without ever asking:excellent grades,a role model,a rival to beat,the one who shouldn't slip, shouldn't make mistakes.
Unspoken requirements. Quiet expectations.
And because of that, no one wanted to honestly get close.
At home, her parents would tell her it was only because she'd skipped three grades and wasn't the same age as the others. Of course there'd be a gap, they'd say. Kids your age think differently.
But Ginevra had understood the real reason a long time ago.
Another notification sound cut cleanly through her thoughts.
"Hellooo? You there??"
She blinked, broken out of the trance, and lifted the phone again.
After hesitating more than was reasonable for a two-letter answer, she finally replied:
"Here."
"I thought someone had lured you away already."
"No. Just finished showering."
"Hahaha you're adorable. I ask one question and you give me one neat little answer. 🤪"
Adorable?
Ginevra's brows creased, just a fraction.
She didn't think that word belonged anywhere near her.
Before she could decide how to respond, another message appeared. This time it wasn't text but a five-second voice clip.
She tapped it.
Jayna's voice flowed out, light and bright, that familiar little upward lilt at the end of her sentences:
"You're frowning right now, aren't you? Thinking the word 'adorable' doesn't suit you~"
Ginevra's frown deepened.
She could clearly picture Jayna's self-satisfied little smirk on the other end of the line.
"I'm going to sleep."
—That was what she sent back.
Across the city, Jayna was sprawled on her bed under the warm circle of a bedside lamp, phone held above her face.
She had been typing a long rambling paragraph.
She'd wanted to talk about the shoes, about how the day had gone completely off the rails, about the way everything had felt strangely fun in the middle of the mess.
But when Ginevra's short, flat sentence popped up, something in Jayna sagged.
They'd gone through so much together tonight that she was still buzzing, too wired to even think about sleep. And yet Ginevra, as if she'd simply shut a book, was going to bed.
Jayna sighed, deleted the long run of text, and stared at the empty input bar, fingertip hovering.
Should she at least send a "good night"?
Was that too much? Too clingy? Too… something?
Before she made up her mind, two new characters jumped onto the screen.
"Good night."
Jayna froze.
Then she shot straight up, the mattress squeaking in protest.
She read the words twice just to be sure.
So Miss Ice Queen did know her manners. Not bad at all.
Just minutes ago, Jayna had been muttering in her head that Ginevra was cold, that she didn't understand warmth. Maybe she'd been unfair.
Jayna grinned and typed quickly, before she could second-guess herself:
I had a great time today. Good night.
After sending it, she glanced at the clock on the wall. Half past ten.
So Ginevra went to bed early.
Jayna closed her eyes, slipped her earbuds in, and let music fill the silence. Restless, she started flicking through her social feed—friends posting selfies, coffee cups, city lights, filtered sunsets.
Everyday lives, curated and displayed.
Suddenly she found herself wondering what Ginevra's profile looked like.
If she had to bet, it would be completely blank.
She tapped on Ginevra's name, opened her page, and snorted softly.
"Tch. Called it."
There was nothing. No photos, no updates, no quotes—an empty timeline.
So the owner had never posted a single thing.
Curious, Jayna tapped on her avatar next.
Earlier that evening she'd only glanced at it in passing, but now she studied it carefully.
The doodle was a small river, drawn with a few simple lines. On the water, something odd floated, a shape so strange she squinted at it for a good ten seconds before realizing—
Ah. It was supposed to be a flower.
A very unfortunate little flower.
Jayna lay back on her pillow and laughed silently into the dark.
So, she'd finally discovered one of Ginevra's weaknesses.
Her drawing was terrible.
Perfect. Something to tease her about, someday.
The next morning, as always, Jayna had to be physically extracted from bed by Mrs Rose.
She'd set an alarm. The alarm had betrayed her.
Standing over the sink, she scrubbed at her teeth while glowering at her own reflection, mint foam and regret fizzing together in her mouth.
She could not be late today.
"Hey, Jayna! Take your breakfast with you at least!"
"Mrs Rose, I'll miss the time! I'm not hungry!"
Mrs Rose hurried after her down the hall, waving a packed breakfast, but Jayna was already at the door, half hopping into her shoes. She flapped a hand toward the driveway, signaling the driver, Mr. Carter, to pull up.
"Grabbing food won't make you late more than a few seconds! This girl, honestly—"
Watching Mr. Carter's sedan pull out a little too quickly for her to keep up, Mrs Rose stopped, breathless, anger and worry warping her expression.
She had no idea what had gotten into Jayna today, rushing about as if the world would end if she walked into school late.
Next time she'd call her earlier, she decided. She couldn't keep letting the girl skip breakfast like this.
In the car, they didn't get far before the traffic turned to stone.
Cars stacked up in front of them in a long, glinting line. The entire road had frozen, like someone had pressed pause.
Jayna leaned toward the window, forehead almost touching the cool glass.
Up ahead, a cluster of figures stood in the middle of the street, gesturing angrily. It looked like there'd been a minor accident—and now, right at the time when students and office workers were all heading out, the road was thoroughly, helplessly jammed.
"Mr. Carter, do you think we can still make it?"
He craned his neck and sighed.
"Looks like the folks up front are going at each other pretty hard. No one's moving. I doubt we'll get through any time soon. Why don't you hop out and grab some breakfast somewhere, hm? You're going to be late anyway."
"I don't want to eat."
Jayna let out a frustrated sigh.
For once she'd managed to get up early, and this was what she got for it.
If she remembered the schedule right, Ginevra was on duty for early study today. Which meant every single late arrival in Class 2-1 would go into her log.
Then the lucky latecomers got a nice "chat" with Ms. Harper, plus a written reflection and a parent's signature.
The thought made Jayna's stomach knot more tightly than hunger ever could.
When she overheard someone say it might be a long wait before the road cleared, she didn't even give Mr. Carter time to object.
She shouldered her backpack, flung the car door open, and bolted.
"Jayna—!"
But she was already gone, sneakers hammering the sidewalk.
By the time she staggered up to the gates of Summit Ridge High School, ten minutes of early study had already slipped away.
Her lungs burned; a sharp, metallic taste coated the back of her throat.
Near the gate, a handful of stragglers were being intercepted one by one by the security staff, all wearing the same guilty, out-of-breath expression Jayna felt on her own face.
"Hey, hey, what class are you from? Name."
"Uh—"
One of the guards had stopped her. Jayna straightened her clothes, bent over, and drew in air with great, almost theatrical effort, trying to calm the roar in her chest.
"She's from Class 2-1."
Another guard, middle-aged with kind eyes, stepped out of the booth and clapped the new hire on the shoulder.
"She's been late so many times I know her by heart. Let her through, or she really will miss everything."
Jayna shot him a grateful wave.
She'd been late so often that the security guard recognized her now. She honestly wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry about that.
Hugging her backpack to her chest, she tiptoed along the hallway, shoulders hunched as if that could make her invisible.
She rose slightly on her toes and peered through the classroom window.
Perfect. Ms. Harper wasn't there. Only Ginevra, standing at the podium.
She would have to enter from the back.
Given the shared barbecue and brush-with-life-and-death shoe-incident last night, surely Ginevra would grant her a little mercy.
Clinging to that hopeful fantasy, Jayna eased the back door open, slipped inside, and walked as low to the ground as a person could walk without actually crawling.
Up front, Ginevra had already noticed her.
She'd seen Jayna hovering at the door, peeking in like a suspicious raccoon.
Now she tilted her head slightly to one side, eyes narrowing over the book in her hands.
She watched as Jayna edged inside and slid into her seat, quiet as a guilty thought.
Jayna's cheeks were flushed pink, chest still heaving just a little. Strands of hair clung damply to her forehead and temples. She looked like she'd sprinted the whole way from wherever she'd jumped out of that car.
Jayna slowly pulled out her textbook, her breath still not quite steady.
She blinked, a little too quickly, trying to shake off the tension.
Her gaze wandered, as if of its own accord, toward the front of the room.
Their eyes met.
The look on Ginevra's face startled her.
It was direct. Intent.
The kind of gaze you'd use on an animal that thought it had escaped the trap.
Jayna's hands flew together in front of her chest, fingers steepled in a silent plea—Please don't write it down. Just this once.
Ginevra looked away at last, calm as ever, and Jayna finally allowed herself to drop her eyes to the page and pretend she'd been reading the whole time.
When early study ended, Jayna snapped upright and stared at the podium as if she could change fate by willpower alone.
Ginevra was packing up the class record book, sliding a pen into its spine, expression unreadable.
Without so much as a passing glance in Jayna's direction, she took the log under her arm and walked out of the room.
"Why do you look like you're going to your own funeral?"
Calista Renner tilted her head, taking in Jayna's pose—elbows on the desk, cheeks in her hands, eyes vacant.
"I was late. Again…"
Jayna didn't even have time to care about the way her stomach was growling. Worry filled all the space where hunger might have been.
Calista pressed her palm to her forehead.
"Do you even know how many times you've been late now? Ms. Harper said if you're late again, you have to write a full reflection and get a parent's signature."
"My dad's not even home. Who's supposed to sign it?"
Jayna rolled her eyes.
The reflection itself wasn't the issue. She could scribble down an apology in her sleep.
What bothered her was that of all days, she had to be late when it was Ginevra doing the checks.
It felt… embarrassing.
"Do you think she'll stick to the rules and tell the teacher?" Jayna asked, turning her head to look at Calista.
At the very least, Calista had been in Ginevra's class their freshman year. She would know what to expect.
"Don't count on any miracles."
Calista leaned in, lowering her voice.
"From the day I met her, Ginevra's been someone you can't negotiate with when it comes to rules. Completely fair, completely unbending. She doesn't go around tattling for fun, but if she's on duty? If you messed up, then you messed up. End of story."
"What? No way. We're different. We literally had barbecue together last night."
Jayna muttered it under her breath, almost to herself.
"You skipped studying to eat barbecue?"
Calista's eyes went wide. Then something else seemed to hit her.
"Wait. You took Ginevra out for barbecue? She actually went with you?! Why didn't you invite me?"
Jayna collapsed forward onto her desk like a boneless cat and decided she did not, in fact, have the strength to explain.
She was doomed.
She could already see herself being called out by name in front of the whole class. Again.
In the staffroom, the hum of printers and the soft rustle of turning pages blended into a background murmur.
As class representative, Ginevra technically had many reasons to interact with the teachers.
In reality, she only ever came by to hand over the logbook when she was on duty.
Which meant Ms. Harper barely got the chance to speak with her top student.
She sometimes envied the homeroom teachers whose reps laughed in their offices, who leaned on desks and shared little bits of their lives.
Her own star was brilliant—and distant.
At such a young age, that remoteness felt both impressive and faintly worrying.
"Ms. Harper, here's this morning's record."
Ginevra placed the logbook on the desk.
Ms. Harper looked up, smiled, and flipped it open. Her gaze ran down the neatly written lines.
When she saw the name in the "Late" column, her smile faltered.
"Her again? She's the only one in the whole class who still manages to be late."
She swallowed her irritation and forced the corners of her mouth upward.
"Thank you, that's all."
A few seconds passed.
Normally, this was when Ginevra would turn, say a polite goodbye, and head straight back to the classroom.
But this time, she didn't move.
She stood there, motionless, as if something were quietly gathering at the back of her throat.
"Yes? Is there something else?" Ms. Harper prompted gently.
"Ms. Harper…"
Ginevra paused, then lifted her eyes. Her expression had sharpened, like a lens finding its focus.
"It's about Jaynara. She ran to school this morning. I think there were other reasons for her being late."
Ms. Harper blinked, momentarily stunned.
"How do you know she ran?"
"When she came in, I was watching her from the front. Her expression, the way she was breathing—she looked like she'd been running. I don't think she meant to be late this time. It felt different from before."
Her tone was even, almost clinical, as if she were presenting a solution to a math problem.
But to Ms. Harper, something in it had changed. A faint warmth at the edges, maybe. A quiet insistence.
Ms. Harper let out a small, surprised laugh.
Of all the things she'd imagined Ginevra might one day say, this had not been on the list.
The girl who always kept her distance was… sticking her neck out.
"This sounds a lot like you're speaking up for her," Ms. Harper said, amusement and curiosity tangled in her voice.
"I'm just stating the facts."
Ginevra's expression didn't shift.
On a teenager's face, such cool detachment would have seemed out of place, maybe even a little affected.
But somehow, when it was her, you believed it.
"All right. I understand. Oh, by the way—" Ms. Harper reached for another notebook on her desk. "Jaynara's French dictation did improve this time. I imagine you had something to do with that. Thank you for helping her."
Ginevra shook her head. For a brief moment, something like quiet satisfaction flickered through her eyes.
"I didn't really help. She wants to learn."
Ms. Harper flipped through the dictation books, then glanced at the list of the class's entrance scores, weighing her next words.
"There's one more thing," she said carefully.
"Actually, Lydia Westbrook came to me and asked if she could be your desk mate. I gave it some thought. Your grades are about the same. Sitting together could be a good thing. And your current seat is quite far back. If you ever want to switch, just tell me. I don't want… unnecessary people disturbing you."
Ginevra's brows drew together, the change so slight it was almost imperceptible—if you didn't know her.
Her expression cooled, just a shade.
"By 'unnecessary people'… you mean Jaynara?"
Ms. Harper caught the shift and felt a flicker of awkwardness.
She let out a small, strained laugh, neither confirming nor denying.
"Ms. Harper only wants what's best for you."
"Jaynara doesn't distract me. And I don't want to switch seats."
Her voice remained polite but had retreated several steps, the distance reasserting itself.
"If there's nothing else, I'll go back to class."
"…All right. If you ever change your mind, we'll talk. You can go now."
Ginevra nodded, turned, and walked away.
Ms. Harper watched her disappear through the doorway, then finally pulled open the class roster.
In the photograph, the girl's face was calm and indifferent, dark eyes betraying nothing.
A+ in every column. A transcript hovering right at the edge of perfection.
On the next page, another student whose profile almost matched hers.
Being homeroom teacher of Class 1 was no simple job.
"Ms. Harper, I heard you've got two students this year who both took gold at the Aurora MIT Mathematics Tournament—the AMMT. The one who just left, that was your overall champion, Ginevra, right?"
"Yes, that's her."
Whenever another teacher mentioned Ginevra, pride rose in Ms. Harper like a quiet tide.
"That's amazing. So they get direct entry into the AMMT winter and summer training camps this year, no extra testing?"
Listening to the envy in her colleague's voice, Ms. Harper closed the roster and smiled.
"I just hope everything goes smoothly when it's time to finalize the candidates."
Her thoughts drifted back to the look that had crossed Ginevra's face a few minutes earlier.
That tiny tightening of her jaw. The way her eyes had sharpened when she said, "Jaynara doesn't distract me."
It was the first time she'd ever seen that particular expression on the girl.
Protective.
Just the faintest hint of taking someone's side.