Their school has a tradition: the class lines up according to height. Grace Bennett is the tallest in their class, so he’s always the one standing at the very end of the line, and right in front of him is Anna Walker.

Grace Bennett sized up the person in front of him.

Broad shoulders, hair cut neat and tidy, the school uniform jacket was dazzlingly white, carrying a scent of laundry soap.

In contrast, Anna Walker’s yellowed, worn-out school jacket—with “I’m the coolest at Nancheng No. 7 High” scrawled on the back—looked like it had been fished out of a trash can.

So, who’s this?

The next moment, as if the other person had heard his question, he turned around.

Because he was so sleepy, Grace Bennett’s reaction was a bit slow. He stared at those emotionless eyes for a long time before it finally dawned on him—he’d seen this punchable face before.

It was the guy who wanted to fight him yesterday.

What was his name again, Chen something Shen?

Before Grace Bennett could remember, the other guy moved first.

Chen-something-Shen suddenly stepped aside, making room between them.

Grace Bennett was about to check if he was standing in the wrong line, but seeing this, he shoved one hand in his pocket and said coldly, “Looking for trouble, huh…”

“Shorter ones stand in front.”

With that one sentence, Grace Bennett was left speechless.

Chapter 3

All the teachers and students were packed onto the sports field, the lines crowded and dense.

Hearing the commotion, a few students nearby were already sneaking glances their way.

Grace Bennett actually didn’t care where he stood. As long as Sarah Grant was okay with it, he wouldn’t mind standing at the very front of the class.

If it were anyone else, he’d have just moved up without even looking.

Grace Bennett stared at him. “Which of your eyes sees me as shorter than you?”

Brian Brooks lowered his eyelids at the question, then looked up again. “Both.”

After another once-over, Grace Bennett nodded. “Pick a time and I’ll check them for you—”

“Check what? Check where?” Grace Bennett’s back was smacked—not too hard, not too soft—and a stern female voice came from behind, “What’s so interesting that it’s better than the principal? Look at the podium!”

Hearing the familiar voice, Grace Bennett curled his lip and glanced perfunctorily at the podium.

Today, Sarah Grant was dressed all in black, with only a hint of purple on her scarf. Her hair was neatly coiled at the back of her head, and she held a roster in her hand, frowning at the people in front of her.

Because she wore glasses all the time, her eyes looked a bit small, and her teeth stuck out a little, making her look very strict.

The moment Sarah Grant appeared, Brian Brooks could feel the person in front of him suddenly relax. The hostility that had just started to rise instantly faded away, and he returned to his usual lazy demeanor.

“The injuries on your face—you can explain them to me in my office later.” Sarah Grant looked down and saw the black pullover he was wearing, her expression worsening. “Where’s your school uniform?”

“Forgot it.”

“Why don’t you just forget the start of school too?” Sarah Grant said. “Look at yourself—everyone in the school is wearing their uniform, and you’re the only odd one out! When the student council comes by, our class is going to lose points for appearance again!”

The homeroom teacher from the next class joked, “There are leaders coming to inspect today. Thanks to you, your homeroom teacher is going to get criticized at the first meeting of the year.”

Grace Bennett hadn’t cared much at first, but at that, he curled his fingers. “Should I just hide for a bit?”

“Shut up,” Sarah Grant said, rubbing her temples and raising a finger. “Borrow a school jacket from a classmate.”

Grace Bennett lifted his chin to look for someone. “Anna Walker.”

“Don’t bother, he’s only got his own jacket,” Sarah Grant said, puzzled. “Why not just borrow from the classmate next to you?”

The classmate next to him?

Grace Bennett didn’t even glance at the person beside him. “Borrowing a jacket from someone in another class isn’t really appropriate, is it?”

“What do you mean, another class?” Sarah Grant said. “He’s your classmate.”

“?”

“He’s a new transfer, switched into our class. He’ll be with us from now on.” Sarah Grant finished, then looked at Brian Brooks for confirmation. “Chen, can you lend him your jacket for a bit? Of course, if you’re not okay with it, that’s fine—no pressure.”

Grace Bennett frowned, looking more reluctant as the borrower than the lender.

Grace Bennett: “I don’t want to borrow…”

“Sure.” Brian Brooks glanced at him. “If he doesn’t mind the jacket being too long.”

Grace Bennett: “Take it off now.”

Half a minute later, Grace Bennett took the jacket and threw it on haphazardly. After putting it on, he looked down to check.

Not too long—just right. It was probably the same size as his own school jacket.

“A bit short,” he said, looking up. “I’ll give it back after we’re dismissed.”

Grace Bennett’s pullover had a peeling skull printed in the middle, black pants, and a few crooked band-aids stuck on his face. The neat school jacket looked completely out of place on him.

Brian Brooks noticed the bruises peeking out from under the edges of the band-aids and suddenly raised his hand.

Grace Bennett reflexively slapped it away. “What are you doing?”

With the jacket off, Brian Brooks was wearing the school’s uniform shirt underneath, buttoned all the way to the top. His back was straight, posture proper and upright.

Brian Brooks’s hand paused in midair, then naturally dropped to his side. “Your collar.”

Grace Bennett wanted to say, “None of your business,” but remembering he was wearing someone else’s jacket, he half-heartedly straightened it a couple of times.