Being Andrea's seatmate was an experience.
For one, she couldn't sit still.
She'd tap her fingers on the desk, doodle on the edges of her notebook, or fidget with her ponytail whenever she got bored—which was often.
For another, she talked. A lot.
"Rest, do you think aliens exist?"
"Rest, what if we're all living in a simulation?"
"Rest, if I throw my notebook out the window, do you think I can convince the teacher I lost it?"
At first, I tried to ignore her.
It didn't work.
Andrea was relentless. If I didn't answer, she'd just keep poking my arm until I did.
Eventually, I gave up.
"No, yes, and that's a terrible plan," I replied one day without looking up from my book.
Andrea gasped. "You do listen to me!"
"Unfortunately."
She grinned. "See? I knew we'd be great seatmates."
I sighed.