"Go away, go away." David Miller pushed aside the noisy, meddling crowd, opened the letter, clicked his tongue, and waved the letter paper. "I don't dare accept this love letter. I have to return it to its owner."

As he spoke, he stood up and, under the gaze of the whole class, walked to the front and placed the letter in front of Henry Clark. "Here, class monitor, your letter is returned to you."

Henry Clark paused in the middle of copying English vocabulary and looked up at him.

David Miller's expression was smug yet dismissive, with a hint of contempt and disdain.

The students burst into an uproar, laughing, banging on their desks, whispering among themselves, the noise getting out of hand. Finally, Henry Clark spoke: "I didn't write it."

David Miller shrugged, one hand in his uniform pocket. "It has your name on it. It couldn't possibly be from me."

A few girls let out strange giggles and whispered, "How embarrassing, who would've thought Henry Clark likes David Miller too."

Thomas Reed was in the back, wearing headphones and listening to an English song. The lyrics went:

"And you're standing on the edge, face up 'cause you're a

(Now you're standing on the edge of a cliff, head held high because you are)

Natural

(Born this way)

A beating heart of stone

(With a heartbeat as strong as stone)"

Amidst the music, the laughter, and the whispers, she stood up, walked to Henry Clark, took the love letter from David Miller's hand, glanced at it, then turned and walked over to Grace Carter, tossing it onto her desk.

"Your letter. Keep it yourself. Next time, remember not to write someone else's name."

Grace Carter's cheeks flushed bright red, furious and humiliated. "I didn't write it!"

Thomas Reed: "I saw you write it. You have this kind of letter paper in your drawer. If you don't want to admit it, we can compare handwriting. Her handwriting is prettier than yours, and she would never buy this kind of flashy letter paper. If you want to frame someone next time, at least use your brain."

Indeed, whenever Henry Clark wrote anything, she always used exercise books or the cheapest red-lined letter paper. This pink, scented letter paper was completely out of character for her.

Grace Carter was speechless. Under the stares of everyone in the classroom, she suddenly stood up and ran out crying.

Thomas Reed calmly walked back to her seat and sat down.

Chapter 3 Desk Mate

Grace Carter was persuaded by her friends to return to class. Her eyes were still red, and she lay on her desk, refusing to lift her head, looking utterly wronged. As soon as class ended, the other girls in the dorm crowded around her, patting her shoulder to comfort her.

"Alright, it's not a big deal, just a joke."

"Thomas Reed too, it was just a joke, but she had to butt in and meddle."

The more Grace Carter was comforted, the harder she cried, as if she were the biggest victim in the whole incident.

Thomas Reed already found the crying annoying enough, and now David Miller was poking her shoulder from behind, trying to talk to her.

"Hey, were you jealous just now?"

"Do you not like me getting love letters, or do you not like others liking me?"

"If you were my girlfriend..."

Thomas Reed couldn't take it anymore. She stood up and went to the office to find the homeroom teacher.

At this age, students rarely go to teachers for help. Anyone who does is seen as betraying the student camp and becoming a teacher's lackey. But Thomas Reed didn't care about that. She had been too lazy to bother before, but now her irritation had piled up to the point where she couldn't stand it.

She never liked to wrong herself, nor force herself. When she was this annoyed, she had to do something about it.

"Teacher, I want to change seats. I can't see the blackboard clearly from the back." Thomas Reed gave the most reasonable excuse.

The homeroom teacher, Old Baker, was a bit surprised but didn't make things difficult. Instead, he smiled. "I've been saying you should sit in the front rows. You see, the students in the back don't like to study, and your grades can easily be affected. You didn't do as well on this month's exam as last time. You should work harder and try to move up a few places, okay?"

Like all homeroom teachers, Old Baker liked to give pep talks to encourage students. But to students, these words were hardly inspiring. In the hearts of teenagers, their little moods, the rainy days they hate, the gossip from their desk mates... all of it matters more than studying.

Old Baker picked up the class roster and seating chart, glanced at them, and asked, "Olivia Carter is also in your dorm, right?"

Olivia Carter and Grace Carter were bunkmates and always hung out together. She was also Henry Clark's desk mate.

"Olivia Carter also told me before that she doesn't want to sit with Henry Clark." Old Baker sighed for some reason, then looked up and asked, "How about you sit with Henry Clark?"

It seemed Old Baker also knew that Henry Clark didn't get along with the other girls.

Thomas Reed nodded indifferently. "Sure."

For her, as long as she could get away from that idiot David Miller behind her, sitting in the front wasn't so bad.

The next class happened to be Old Baker's Chinese class, so he went to the classroom and rearranged the seats right away. Thomas Reed moved to the third row in the front and became Henry Clark's desk mate. Her old seat was taken by a boy, and Grace Carter's desk mate moved back, so her new desk mate was Olivia Carter.