It was just after lunch, and the classroom was a little noisy. Some students were still chatting in low voices. Others were yawning, stretching, or slowly opening their books. There was a little smell of ink and paper that was mixed with a scent of chalk.
Tommy Safali sat at the very back, near the window. His bag was on the floor, and his songbook was open in front of him. He wasn't talking; he wasn't even looking up. His pen was already moving across the page.
He was writing again; not class notes, but little lines of music. They were words about how he felt about someone but couldn't say. His handwriting was quick and messy; he tried to look calm, but there was a war inside him that he had tried to fight for days ever since she had arrived at the school.
Tamara Leon sat two rows behind Sasha, turning a pen between her fingers; her other hand tapped the desk lightly.
She wasn't paying attention to the noise around her.
Her mind was on Tommy Safali.
She tilted her head.
What is he always writing?
She watched him for a moment. His hand never stopped moving. He wasn't copying notes. Everyone else's books were still closed, but Tommy? He was deep in whatever he was doing.
Lyrics, she guessed. Probably another song.
Her eyes narrowed a little.
For the past week, Tommy had been different. He didn't sit near her anymore. He didn't laugh at her jokes. He didn't even say "hi" when she passed him in the hallway.
What's going on with him?
Tamara had always liked the way Tommy smiled, how easily he made people laugh, and how the girls paid attention when he performed on stage. And he used to talk to her a lot. There had been something between them, or at least she thought so.
Now he acted like he never knew her.
Her fingers stopped tapping, and her lips were pressed together as she thought of what to do to get his attention.
Before she could think more, the classroom door opened with a soft creak, and Mr. Davis walked in with a large poetry book under his arm. He wore his usual brown coat, and he looked serious. The classroom quieted down right away.
Mr. Davis didn't smile. He was that teacher who gave students nerves whenever he entered a class, especially those who didn't prepare for his lessons.
He went straight to the front of the class and opened his book.
"Today, we are studying poetry," he said. "Love poetry. A sonnet by William Shakespeare."
Some students groaned quietly. Others sat up straighter.
Tommy didn't move; he wasn't even there.
He kept writing, still stuck in his own world. His pen made soft scratching sounds on the paper.
"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?" Mr. Davis began; his voice was deep and strong. "Thou art more lovely and more temperate…"
Some students followed in their textbooks. A few looked out the window. Sasha Slade, sitting near the front, sat upright. Her book was open, and she underlined each line slowly.
Tommy looked up, not at Mr. Davis, but at Sasha.
She looked… different from the rest; she was quiet, and her black hair was tied beautifully behind her head. She looked smart in her uniform, and she was the type who didn't try to be seen, but somehow everyone still noticed her presence.
Tommy could feel blood rushing in his veins. Every time he looked at her, he wanted to write something beautiful, and she made his heart do strange things.
From the front, Mr. Davis glanced up. His eyes scanned the room. Then he noticed something he wasn't expecting: Tommy, who was still busy with his book. He was writing more than the rest of the class.
Mr. Davis narrowed his eyes.
"Mr. Safali," he said loudly.
Tommy looked up.
"Yes, sir?"
"If your notes are so important, perhaps you'd like to repeat what I just read."
Tommy froze, and Tamara's eyes snapped to him.
His heart started to pound. His eyes darted to the board and to his book, wondering what he might say; he hadn't heard a single word.
And then he did something that gave everything away; he looked at Sasha.
His eyes went straight to her, like they were drawn there without him even thinking.
Then something worse happened.
Sasha turned around; she looked straight at him, and she was waiting, expecting him to say something. They stared at each other for a minute, and Tamara had seen everything.
Tommy opened his mouth, but no words came out, and his mind went blank.
"I… I'm not sure, sir," he said quietly.
The classroom was silent.
Before Mr. Davis could speak again, another voice broke in.
"The last line was, 'Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,' sir," said Kelly Norman, Tommy's best friend.
Mr. Davis turned and stared at Kelly with his fierce eyes. "And did I ask you, Mr. Norman?"
Kelly lowered his head. "No, sir."
"Then kindly stand up. You'll stay standing for the rest of the lesson."
Some students gasped, and others whispered, but there was silence again, unless someone was looking for trouble.
Tommy sank into his chair; his face was hot. He looked at Kelly, who stood slowly beside his desk, looking straight ahead.
"Maybe your friend," Mr. Davis continued, "will learn to pay attention next time instead of daydreaming about something only gods know what."
A few students chuckled. Sasha turned back around and faced the teacher.
Tommy looked down at his songbook and quietly closed it.
The rest of the lesson passed slowly. Mr. Davis kept reading the poem, and students followed along. But Tommy didn't pick up his pen again.
And behind him, Kelly stood silently.
Mr. Davis turned back to the board and kept teaching, reading more lines from the sonnet in his deep voice.
But Tamara wasn't listening anymore.
She sat stiff in her seat, her face was normal, and she had her eyes on the teacher, but her thoughts were somewhere else. There was something inside her that was burning.
So it was Sasha Slade, she thought.
Ever since she arrived at the school, Tommy had changed. He stopped joking with Tamara. He stopped waiting for her after prep. He used to write songs and let her read them, but not anymore.
Tamara continued stealing glances at Tommy at the back, but every time she did, he was always staring at Sasha like she was the answer to something.
She bit her lip and kept her eyes fixed on the chalkboard, pretending to follow Mr. Davis's lesson. But she wasn't hearing a word he said.
She could feel her heart beating out louder, and jealousy curled inside her like smoke.
She thinks she's better than me, huh?
Sasha sat there, her head slightly tilted, nodding along to the lesson, not knowing about the war she had unknowingly started. She raised her hand again, and the whole class clapped for the answer she had given.
Tamara's grip on her pen tightened, almost to the point of breaking it.
He forgot me… because of her?
Her lips formed a small smile, but it wasn't a happy one.
Fine, she thought. If that's what he wants…
She tilted her chin up, still pretending to listen, but her eyes were darker now, her heart no longer racing with confusion; now it beat with something else. She had to find a plan for getting Sasha expelled from the school.
Let's see what happens when the perfect Sasha Slade gets in my way. She thought.
Tamara glanced up at Mr. Davis again, just in time to hear the whole class clapping.
Sasha had just finished giving another perfect answer. A few students had tried and failed, but Sasha's reply had made Mr. Davis nod proudly, like a father pleased with his favorite child.
He smiled; it was a real smile this time, and he said, "Excellent, Miss Slade. Well done. That is exactly the interpretation I was looking for."
Tamara's eyes narrowed.
She gritted her teeth, and her fingers dug into her desk, leaving some marks of her nails there.
She had heard enough, and she couldn't keep on hearing the same name over and over; the name she had started to hate.
Why is it always her?
She looked around. Some students were nodding. A few even whispered Sasha's name like she was some genius queen.
Mr. Davis turned back to the board and kept writing, but Tamara didn't see the chalk moving. All she saw was his proud face. His voice praising Sasha over and over again.
It wasn't fair.
It had never been fair since that girl arrived.
Now even Mr. Davis… she thought bitterly.
She didn't just hate Sasha anymore.
Now she hated Mr. Davis too.
Her thoughts started to spin like a wheel. What if Mr. Davis is helping her? What if all these high marks… what if she doesn't earn them?
A sharp thought pierced through her mind.
What if I made people believe that Sasha and Mr. Davis are too close?
She blinked, surprised at her own idea.
Then she smiled.
If the teachers…if the school board thought that Mr. Davis was giving Sasha special treatment… maybe because there was something else going on between them, then both of them would be in trouble.
Sasha could get expelled, and Mr. Davis could lose his job.
And then…just maybe…things would go back to normal.
Tommy would see clearly again. Maybe he'd smile at me like before. Maybe we would laugh in the dining hall like old times.
She only needed proof, or to fake one, and it had to look real…something believable.
As her mind raced through the possibilities, she barely heard what Mr. Davis was saying.
"…will work in pairs for this assignment," he said, clapping the chalk off his hands.
The class rustled with noise as students began looking around for their names.
Tamara only tuned back in when she heard her name spoken out loud.
"Tamara," Mr. Davis said. "You'll work with Sasha."
Tamara felt like she had stopped breathing, and her heart started beating louder. Her eyes slowly turned toward the front, and she saw Sasha getting up from her desk.