If that scholarship slips away, Dad will have to pay for everything himself. Dad is already so exhausted, Nazma bit her inner lip, holding back the tightness that suddenly rose in her throat. I can't fail. I don't have the luxury of being 'average.' Maybe for her schoolmates, this is just for fun, but for me? This is the only way to help Dad.
Every second of silence created by Mrs. Ida felt like torture. Nazma looked down, staring at the rows of numbers on the mental desk calendar in her mind—counting the days until the scholarship announcement. A single small mistake on this algebra test? What then?
Dear God, please let it be me, Dear God. Her heart prayed.
Last night she could barely sleep, constantly replaying every answer she wrote on the test paper in her memory, searching to see if there were any missed variables.
"I have finished grading yesterday's algebra daily tests," Mrs. Ida's voice broke the silence, flat and expressionless.
Mrs. Ida set the green folder down with a thud that was louder than usual. Her eyes stared sharply ahead, without a single trace of friendliness left there.
"I am truly disappointed with the results of this test," Mrs. Ida's voice slid low, piercing.
"Overall, the results are very concerning. Almost every name in this folder is below the minimum passing grade. It seems you think algebra is just a game, or perhaps you came to this class simply to take up space?"
Nazma's heart felt as if it dropped to her stomach. Almost every name? Her mind immediately went into a frenzy. What if she made a tiny mistake? What if she fell along with the others?
The image of her father's tired face reappeared. If she failed in her own favorite subject, her scholarship story was over.
"I can't be like them. I have to be the best," she thought, her heart racing uncontrollably. Cold sweat began to bead on her forehead.
"There is only one person," Mrs. Ida continued, her voice now as sharp as a razor, "who truly studied and understood this material perfectly. The only person who does not need to take the remedial test next week."
Nazma closed her eyes. Come on, Naz. You studied until two in the morning. You made sure everything was precise.
With a look of disappointment, Ms. Ida announced, "Only Nazma received a score of one hundred. What is wrong with the rest of you? The questions were actually quite easy."
Instantly, oxygen seemed to refill Nazma's lungs. She exhaled a long breath; her shoulders, which were previously tense, now slumped with overwhelming gratitude. A warm sensation spread through her chest—a sweet victory that was rightfully hers and her father's.
Nazma walked to the front with legs that felt a bit weak from relief. However, as she turned back to her desk while clutching her perfect paper, she caught sight of Zemiro.
The boy leaned back casually, watching her with an expression that was hard to read behind his mask.
Is Zemiro watching me?
OMG, Zemiro is watching me?
I'm so happy!
Nazma immediately looked away, trying to hide the blush that suddenly surfaced. Her heart swelled intensely; a mix of immense relief from the score of one hundred and a sweet flutter from her crush's gaze. In that second, all her exhaustion was paid in full.
As soon as her seat touched the hard wooden chair, Nazma felt her world narrow down to only two things: the paper marked 100 on the desk and that boy's gaze which felt like it was burning the back of her neck.
Gosh, is he still looking? Nazma thought, a mix of panic and delight.
She dared to peek slightly from behind the frame of her glasses. No, he wasn't glancing back now. But look, just seeing his haircut already makes him look handsome, let alone if that face were free from the mask. Nazma started to wonder, when will there be a scene where he takes off his mask? It's impossible for him to eat without removing it, right?
Heart, please calm down a bit!Don't be noisy in front of Mrs. Ida! Nazma bit her lower lip hard to hold back a smile that was about to explode. It felt strange. Just moments ago she was scared to death thinking about the fate of her scholarship, but now? Her heart felt like it was floating to the classroom ceiling.
Do I look great in his eyes because I'm the only one who got a hundred?