Unwritten Rules

2

The bell rang, its sharp tone slicing through the murmur of restless chatter as students began to pack up their things, preparing for the end of the school day. The class captain, a lanky boy with a perpetual frown that seemed permanently etched into his face, stood up and cleared his throat, commanding attention with the air of someone who’d long been accustomed to delivering announcements. “Hey, everyone, they’ve just posted last term’s results on the bulletin board. You can go check them out.”

Instantly, the classroom erupted into a flurry of activity. The news of the results was a magnetic force pulling students out of their seats and into the bustling corridor. For many, this was a moment of high stakes, where academic success or failure was broadcasted to the entire school. Tyler Blake, who felt a gnawing uncertainty about his performance, hesitated for a moment. His stomach twisted with the familiar anxiety that accompanied every exam result, a sensation he’d come to know all too well over the years.

The corridor outside was abuzz with students, their voices a symphony of eager anticipation and apprehension. Some were laughing nervously, others muttered to their friends, and a few stood in anxious silence. Tyler walked through the throng, his gaze fixed on the bulletin board at the end of the hall. The board was already surrounded by a sea of students, their heads bent as they scanned the lists of grades.

The bulletin board was an explosion of colour and chaos, adorned with sheets of paper detailing students' performances by subject. The edges of the papers were frayed from countless hands tugging at them, eager to discover their fate. Tyler pushed his way through the crowd, feeling the heat of their collective anxiety pressing in on him. Finally, he found a spot where he could see the results.

His heart pounded as his eyes darted across the list, searching for his name. There it was, nestled amid the names of his peers. He scanned his grades with a sinking feeling: 3 C’s, 2 D’s, and the most disheartening—2 F’s in Statistics and History. Tyler’s breath caught in his throat, and a wave of frustration and self-loathing crashed over him.

“Figures,” Tyler muttered under his breath, his voice thick with bitterness. He rubbed his forehead, trying to quell the anger that surged within him. “I knew I’d bombed those classes.”

He stood there, feeling the weight of his disappointment settle heavily on his shoulders. The chatter around him became a dull roar, blending into the background as he absorbed the sting of his results. The crowd’s animated discussions were a blur, their faces, a mix of relief and despair. Tyler clenched his fists, the tension in his body palpable as he wrestled with his emotions.

A sudden movement at the edge of his peripheral vision snapped him out of his reverie. He turned to see Zoey Stevens making her way toward the bulletin board with a purposeful stride. Zoey was someone everyone knew, not just because of her academic prowess but because she was always in the spotlight—perceived as the perfect student, the one who rarely missed a beat. She was a constant fixture at the top of every academic list, and it was nearly impossible not to notice her.

Zoey pushed through the crowd with a single-minded determination, her expression intense and focused. She was the epitome of grace under pressure, moving with a confidence that spoke volumes about her position at the top of the academic hierarchy. Tyler watched her approach, a sense of irritation growing within him as he took in the sight of her. She scanned the board with the precision of someone who was all too familiar with being in the spotlight.

Tyler’s irritation flared as he watched her reaction. Zoey’s face, which had been so composed, twisted into a scowl as she read her results. Despite the fact that she had excelled—6 A’s and 1 B—her expression was one of frustration and disappointment.

“I can’t believe I got a B,” Zoey muttered to herself, her voice tinged with exasperation. “I was so close to straight A’s. Second place again. This is ridiculous.”

Tyler’s frustration boiled over. Here was someone who had clearly achieved excellence, yet she was seething over what seemed like a minor blemish. He couldn’t fathom how she could be so discontented, so blind to her own success.

“Seriously?” Tyler’s voice cut through the din of the hallway, sharp and incredulous. “You’ve got six A’s and a B. You should be celebrating, not moping around. Some of us would kill for grades like that.”

Zoey’s head snapped up, her gaze locking onto Tyler with a mix of annoyance and surprise. Her frustration was palpable, radiating from her like a heat wave. “You wouldn’t understand,” she retorted, her voice icy and defensive. “It’s not just about the grades; it’s about living up to expectations. So, if you don’t have anything constructive to say, mind your own business.”

Tyler’s eyes widened, taken aback by the intensity of her reaction. He took a step closer, unable to contain the incredulity in his voice. “Wow, talk about being spoiled. Most people would kill for that kind of score, and you’re here complaining. Maybe you should learn to appreciate what you have.”

Zoey’s face flushed with a mixture of anger and embarrassment. Her cheeks turned a deep shade of red as she clenched her fists at her sides. “Maybe you should keep your nose out of other people’s lives. You have no idea what it’s like.”

Tyler shook his head, his frustration mounting. “And maybe you should stop acting like the world’s ending because you didn’t get a perfect score. Some of us are actually struggling here.”

Zoey’s eyes flashed with a blend of hurt and defiance. She opened her mouth to retort, but the words seemed to catch in her throat. Instead, she turned on her heel, her frustration evident in her brisk stride as she walked away from the board. Tyler watched her leave, a bitter taste in his mouth.

As Zoey stormed off, Tyler felt a pang of regret, mixed with a bitter realization. He knew he’d struck a nerve, but he couldn’t bring himself to apologize. Her reaction had only amplified his irritation, making the sting of his own results feel even more acute. He shoved his hands into his pockets and turned away from the board, the weight of his disappointment hanging heavily over him.

The day’s events had heightened his sense of dissatisfaction, and the path forward seemed increasingly daunting. As he trudged back to his seat in the classroom, Tyler’s thoughts swirled with a mixture of resentment and uncertainty. He knew he needed to improve his grades, but the road to doing so felt overwhelming and fraught with obstacles.

And then there was Zoey—a girl who seemed to have everything but was clearly burdened by expectations he couldn’t even begin to fathom. For a fleeting moment, Tyler wondered what it would be like to live in her world, to bear her pressures and struggles. But the thought quickly dissipated as he settled back into his seat, the familiar sense of inadequacy gnawing at him once more.