The most dissatisfied with this arrangement was David Miller. When Thomas Reed was moving her desk, he sat behind her, rocking his legs on the chair, and asked, “What do you mean by this? Why are you moving to the front?”

Thomas Reed replied bluntly, “Because you’re annoying.”

Apparently, his “male pride” was truly wounded. David Miller felt humiliated, turned away with a dark face to talk to someone else, and didn’t bother her anymore.

Thomas Reed didn’t want to deal with this group’s nonsense. She simply picked up her desk and filled the empty spot next to Henry Clark.

There were eight rows in total, and their two rows were by the window. Previously, Olivia Carter sat here, and there was a big gap between her desk and Henry Clark’s, clearly marking boundaries and keeping distance, just like the “no crossing line” in elementary school. Thomas Reed found this childish and ridiculous. She didn’t care, so she pushed her desk right up against Henry Clark’s, fitting perfectly.

With the endless botherer gone from behind her, it was much quieter. Thomas Reed let out a slow breath. Her new deskmate wasn’t like the previous one who liked chatting with the front row; instead, she was very quiet and busy studying.

Thomas Reed had already known that the top student in the grade studied hard, but only after becoming her deskmate did she realize this person was a true academic star. When Thomas Reed moved over, she only looked up at her once, then kept her head down, taking notes and working through problems. The exercise book beside her was filled with all kinds of formulas and problem-solving steps, which Thomas Reed couldn’t even understand.

Sitting here, it felt as if the whole classroom had become much quieter. Thomas Reed finally felt her mood slowly improving.

Outside the window, it was drizzling again, raindrops hitting the leaves of the old ginkgo tree. Even though it was raining, the temperature hadn’t dropped; it was still stuffy and humid. The classroom fan was barely moving, and their spot didn’t get any breeze. She left her school jacket open, sleeves rolled up to her forearms, resting her arms on the cool surface of the desk.

Old Baker was teaching at the front. He had moved the two poems from earlier to this lesson, so they turned back to study them again.

He talked about “Rainy Alley,” about a girl like lilac, wandering alone in the long, long and lonely alley in the rain.

Old Baker had probably been a literary youth when he was young, especially fond of this kind of poetry. When he recited it, he was particularly emotional. Thomas Reed felt a bit sleepy listening to him, and when he started explaining what the poem symbolized, what it was a metaphor for, and what thoughts and feelings it represented for the author, she felt even sleepier.

All the drowsiness from the middle of the night came rushing in at this inopportune moment.

When the bell rang for the end of class, the sleepy students in the classroom instantly came alive. Chairs and desks scraped, some people got up to go to the bathroom, some went to get water, some went to chat, and the hallway outside filled with footsteps and voices.

Thomas Reed leaned on her arm, feeling a bit tired.

Lately, she had been dreaming every night—messy dreams all night long. When she woke up, she would forget all those chaotic dreams, but the exhaustion and discomfort from the dreams seemed to carry over into reality, still affecting her.

With her eyes closed, she heard a rustling sound from beside her.

Rustle, rustle, very rhythmic—it was Henry Clark writing.

The pen was set down, pages turned, very softly.

Chapter 4: Jacket

It was a rare sunny day, and the temperature suddenly shot up. The classroom was almost unbearable, especially by the window. Even with a curtain, the sunlight still shone on them.

Thomas Reed took advantage of the break to buy some iced water, and soon drank more than half the bottle. Her cold hand pressed against her forehead, and she was so hot that she had no energy left to spare for the math problems in front of her, so she spun her pen and zoned out.

A layer of white frost formed on the drink bottle, gathering into tiny droplets, then merging into a big drop that rolled down, quickly wetting the corner of the desk. Thomas Reed ignored it; she didn’t want to move at all.

The math teacher had assigned problems for them to do on their own, but some of them were quite hard. Many students scratched their heads, unable to solve them, and gathered together to quietly ask each other for answers.

Thomas Reed glanced to the side. Her deskmate Henry Clark was working on the problems and was almost done. She wrote with a steady rhythm, barely pausing even when doing math problems, which meant this academic star wasn’t stumped at all and could keep writing at a constant pace.

Thomas Reed didn’t know why, but just listening to her steady writing made her sleepy.

Henry Clark sat by the window, blocking most of the sunlight, but she didn’t show any signs of irritation from the heat. She was still wearing her oversized school jacket, head down working on problems, not like others who got distracted or looked around.

Sometimes Thomas Reed felt that, in this person’s eyes, there was nothing but studying.

Someone behind them called out to Henry Clark, saying, “Class rep, are you done? Lend me your answers to copy.”

Only then did Henry Clark look up and say, “You should do it yourself.”

In school, any student who refused to let others copy their homework was considered an outcast and would be despised. As expected, after being refused, the girl started complaining to the person next to her: “What’s her problem? Does she think she’s the only one who can do it? What’s the big deal. She says we should do it ourselves and won’t let us copy, but didn’t Edward Harris copy her homework last time?”

“Does she like Edward Harris? I see she only talks more to Edward Harris.”

Pond Reed overheard the conversation behind her and thought they really were restless—no matter what, they could immediately turn it into some kind of romantic drama.