"I’d rather believe it was just an ink spot on the exam paper from so top student that the marker mistook for sothing else,"
As Tessa was entering the front gate with Hannah, they saw Emily lying on her desk, seemingly crying, and all of her close friends were comforting her.
Class 2 was the school’s rocket class, with a total of fifty-six students—not too many, but not too few either.
From the perspective of other classes, the rocket class should be considered the cream of the crop. Not everyone is required to rank within the top fifty-six, but at the very least, they should all be within the top one hundred.
The original requirent for entering the rocket class was to have stable grades within the top one hundred.
But this ti, Emily’s grades in the rocket class were sowhat...
And it wasn’t the first ti.
"Just like the ti she made fun of , her own excuse was that she filled in the wrong answer sheet, so she lost sixty points. Hilarious, right? Only she would believe that,"
Tessa was snacking behind her book, gossiping with Hannah.
Honestly, it was quite satisfying to hear.
"If that’s the case, I might as well say my answers were calculated wrong, and I was deducted over a hundred points when in fact I got full marks,"
After saying that, Tessa proudly raised her eyebrows.
Hannah couldn’t help but laugh.
Just then, so people were discussing last night’s class group chat.
They probably rembered it after seeing Emily crying and running away today.
"So, we still have to do the howork. Even the class president, who ranks first, diligently hands in howork, so what excuse do us re mortals have not to work hard?"
"She doesn’t always talk like this. When has she ever missed turning in assignnts?"
"Exactly, so she says it to make us think she studies effortlessly?"
"We’re in our senior year, who has it easy? Study if you’re going to study, no need to be so secretive about it."
"You guys forgot what the grade director said at the assembly before, didn’t you? At that ti, a bunch of people were just like her."
The boys said what they said, but no one actually nad nas.
Who would have thought that while the conversation was halfway, Emily who was sitting at the first desk suddenly stood up, her eyes red, furiously throwing a book from the table behind her.
"Spout your nonsense outside, this is a classroom."
The thrown book was a dictionary, which just happened to hit a boy on the forehead, turning it red imdiately.
The boy, known for his temper, slamd the desk and stood up, "Emily Jones, are you insane? Class hasn’t started yet. We can say whatever we want. What’s it to you?"
A few people next to him, fearing he’d start a fight, quickly grabbed him to hold him back.
But Emily was relentless, "If I can hear it, then it does concern , who allowed you all to spout such crap!"
The boy’s forehead was throbbing with pain. He hadn’t felt much at first, but now it was beginning to swell, turning bluish-black. Touching it, he cursed under his breath, "Did we say anything wrong? Weren’t you the one going on and on in the class group chat last night about not doing howork, about it being unnecessary?"
Many students were online in the class group last night, and even if so weren’t, with what the boy just ntioned, they all got the picture now.
"No way, I saw Emily hand in her howork this morning."
"You don’t know her. She always does this. You’re transferred here later, you don’t know. Back in our freshman year, there was this one ti when Emily purposely waited until the end of the school to write the math howork on the board. Later, when soone in the class group asked her about it, she was chatting one second and the next, she went offline."
This incident ended without Emily ever coming forward to apologize.
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