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listened to pop music while writing this stressful scenario. I'M BUILD DIFFERENT!!!
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Ganymede sat in the far corner of the classroom, where the dim lighting barely reached and the teacher’s voice was little more than a distant hum. His astronomy textbook lay closed on the desk, the glossy cover smudged. The open notebook in front of him was empty except for a few faint indents where his pen had hovered too long without moving. He’d been twirling the pen between his fingers for the better part of twenty minutes, the motion more a reflex than a conscious action.
The room around him buzzed with a soft undercurrent of activity. Classmates murmured to each other in hushed tones, their attention divided between the teacher’s droning lecture and the clock ticking above the whiteboard. Ganymede’s gaze flicked toward the clock for the hundredth time, the slow crawl of the second hand only amplifying his restlessness.
He shifted in his seat, leaning back until the chair creaked slightly. His leg bounced under the desk, a habit he couldn’t seem to stop.
He tried to focus, to push the feeling down. After all, this was important information that the teacher was speaking of. The teacher’s voice carried on, talking about orbital mechanics and gravitational pulls. It was a topic that never grabbed Ganymede’s attention anyway—he’d never been that fascination with the way the universe worked, how everything was connected by unseen forces it was too complicated for his liking.
He glanced out the window instead. The sky was a washed-out gray, the kind of color that promised rain but never delivered. A few scattered clouds drifted lazily across the horizon, their shapes dissolving and reforming in an endless cycle. For a moment, he let his mind wander.
The soft buzz of his phone snapped him out of his thoughts. His hand froze mid-twirl, the pen clattering onto the desk. Phones weren’t allowed during class—if the teacher caught him, it would mean detention or worse. It was just one message and his curiosity got the best of him.
He Slid his hand into his pocket, Ganymede glanced toward the front of the room. The teacher had her back turned, writing information on the whiteboard with quick, precise strokes. Most of the class was too busy scribbling notes to notice him. Carefully, he tilted the phone just enough to see the screen, shielding it from view.
One notification blinked at him, its soft glow stark against the dull gray of the classroom.
“Europa was in labor” “picking you aLl up EArly” “Parking lott by 13.20”
The words stared back at him, simple and direct, but they hit him like a tidal wave. Labor. Europa. The baby. His chest tightened, his pulse quickening. He reread the message, his mind struggling to process it fully.
Already? he thought, his breath catching. Isn't it too soon?! Isn’t it?! He had never kept track of time and guess that bit him right on the ass.
His hands moved on autopilot, shoving his notebook and pen into his bag with clumsy urgency. The chair scraped loudly against the floor as he stood, drawing a few curious glances from his classmates.
