Part 74

As for the other students’ gossip and stories about Sean Sherman, they were all a complete mess. They would only judge Sean Sherman’s behavior with complicated emotions and expressions—for example, never going out to play after class, always wearing a serious face all day, looking down on everyone, treating workbooks like her own mother, or sitting at her desk unmoving, reading English every day...

“Do you know Sean Sherman from Class 2? That girl is really impressive—her goal is to finish every single workbook.”

“Oh, no wonder she’s so intense, always getting first place. It’s just doing exercises! Honestly, I’m just lazy, my mom always says that about me, but do you really think it’s necessary? Sigh, people like that, what kind of life are they living...”

“Everyone has their own ambitions, tsk tsk.”

This was the kind of situation Zoe Young was most afraid of—she had always been careful in dealing with her classmates, greeting everyone with a smile, hoping they’d all have a good impression of her, and rarely mentioning her own grades or anything about her studies. But on the other hand, she deeply sympathized with Sean Sherman.

It wasn’t the same kind of sympathy as those people—as if hardworking, nerdy Sean Sherman was living some kind of dull and pitiful life.

Zoe Young just felt that, living every day among a group of girls with different ambitions and sour attitudes, Sean Sherman must be very lonely.

“But maybe not. Sean Sherman is Sean Sherman, and I am me. If she truly doesn’t care, then I might admire her even more.”

With a sense of goodwill and respect, Zoe Young pondered all these rumors about Sean Sherman, trying to guess the reasons behind her actions.

Maybe the study methods she deduced were completely different from Sean Sherman’s real thoughts, but Zoe Young had no way to verify them—she could only bury her head and try her best in her own way.

“Alan Carter, I’m not jealous of being number one in the grade. I just feel ashamed by her diligence. I actually thought I was pretty good.”

Zoe Young didn’t realize that, in the multiple-choice question of “chicken head or phoenix tail,” she had already given her own answer.

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7. Spring Sports Meet (Part 1)

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When the arts committee member and the sports committee member pushed three huge brown cardboard boxes into the classroom, everyone was extremely excited.

After a long, meandering class meeting, everyone finally decided that for the spring sports meet at the end of April, their parade team would wear white shirts, jeans, white sneakers, black baseball caps, and white gloves—Zoe Young thought this outfit looked very Oreo-like, a bit like a funeral procession, but Monica Zack thought it looked very neat and spirited.

The more important topic, of course, was the cheerleading props. Back in elementary school, everyone was sick of sitting in the stands, waving those silly big flowers made of red and yellow crepe paper under the arts committee’s direction, so this time, they decided their props should reflect a bit of middle school intelligence and taste.

The arts committee member had been nervously snooping around these past few days, trying to find out what props other classes were making, while sternly warning her own classmates not to leak any secrets to prevent other classes from copying, yet at the same time complaining about how stingy the other classes were, hiding everything.

“Who cares about your class! Just don’t copy us when the time comes, that’s all.” The crowd chimed in.

We’re all born with double standards—even the tiniest thing, as small as a drop of water, can show two different faces.

However, Zoe Young actually knew exactly what every class was doing—thanks to Benny.

The students in Class 1 bought lots of rectangular white boards, stuck red and yellow stickers on each side, and often secretly practiced flipping the boards in sync during self-study periods—so from the podium’s perspective, it would look neat and eye-catching. Of course, with some design, they could also flip the boards together to form patterns, like...

A red heart on a yellow background.

The students in Class 2 made huge wooden signs, with a giant hand giving a thumbs-up on them.

The students in Class 3 made garlands. Zoe Young always thought only her class had the right to do this—like a funeral procession holding up wreaths: “Friendship first, competition second, cherish life, anger hurts the body.”

As for Zoe Young’s class, they bought two boxes of almond milk. Everyone got a bottle and gulped it down in two minutes, saving the empty cans for later. The slender cans were filled with soybeans, tightly wrapped in shiny, silky bright yellow and deep purple paper, with long fringes cut at both ends. Holding the can in both hands and shaking it gently, it made a rustling sound, and the bright colors reflected dazzling light in the sun—

They really were beautiful cheering props.

“No one is allowed to say a word about this, I’ll say it again—once you’re done, put your props back in the boxes at the front. We’ll hand them out again on the morning of the sports meet. The key is secrecy, got it? Secrecy!”

The arts committee member was nearly shouting herself hoarse, while Ethan Xavier and the others in the back row were enthusiastically making their props—but soon their interest shifted to shaking the cans and using the sound of the soybeans to disrupt class.

“Alan Carter, I heard that in high school, no one makes these cheerleading props for sports meets, is that true?”

High schoolers only have a few simple pens in their pencil cases, they don’t bother with matching outfits for parade teams, they have endless worksheets to do every day, high school has Lucas Young and Jane Nelson, and at seventeen, high schoolers don’t cry.

Zoe Young yawned. Actually, she wasn’t uninterested. At least when drinking the almond milk, she was full of enthusiasm, but later, her clumsy crafting skills made her lose interest, so she could only look down at her own ugly half-finished product and sigh, “So childish, so childish.”

Looking back at the bustling classroom, at everyone waving their shiny wrappers, she suddenly noticed a faint smile at the corner of Michelle Cindy’s mouth in the corner.

It seemed like the first time she’d seen her smile so happily. Although it wasn’t exactly radiant, it was a gentle, peaceful smile, as if she’d remembered something and was lost in her own world.

Zoe Young didn’t know what came over her. She got up from her seat, walked through the now-chaotic classroom, and went over to Michelle Cindy.

Michelle Cindy’s deskmate was a girl who looked very bold and lively, currently playing not far away with Ethan Xavier and the others, tossing soybeans at each other. Zoe Young simply sat down next to Michelle Cindy and picked up the bright yellow finished prop on her desk to examine it closely.

“It’s really pretty,” Zoe Young said in surprise.

She wasn’t just being polite—Michelle Cindy’s handiwork was indeed very delicate. Even though these shiny, messy props all looked the same at first glance, Michelle Cindy’s work, from the seams of the double-sided tape to the width of the fringes, was just right.

Michelle Cindy was startled by Zoe Young’s sudden appearance and quickly stood up. After a few seconds, she shook her head shyly, the smile at her lips fading as she pressed her lips together in silence.

“It really is pretty. If you don’t believe me, look at mine.”

Michelle Cindy took Zoe Young’s prop and played with it for a while.

The thing looked just like a rooster with a bald tail.

“...So ugly.” Michelle Cindy rarely spoke, but she was always direct.

Zoe Young touched her nose and smiled awkwardly.

“You can use mine,” Michelle Cindy suddenly said out of nowhere.

“What do you mean?”

“They’re going to collect all the rattling sticks soon,” Zoe Young took a moment to realize that “rattling stick” was the name Michelle Cindy had given the thing, “and on the day of the sports meet, they’ll just hand them out randomly, so the one you made might end up with anyone...” Michelle Cindy paused here, and Zoe Young could read the rest from her indifferent expression—in other words, whoever got it would be unlucky.

“But you can keep the one I made. Just sneak it into your bag, and on the day of the sports meet, you can use it.”

Actually, Zoe Young didn’t think a little prop was worth all this trouble, but since it was a kind gesture from Michelle Cindy, she put on a very happy face and said, “Okay, then I’ll take it. Don’t tell anyone.”

After a few steps, she turned back and met Michelle Cindy’s gaze.

Michelle Cindy was smiling, and this smile wasn’t as fleeting as before.

Zoe Young gripped the “rattling stick” in her hand and nodded at her.

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