MBTI high school

#Bonus 1

Chapter Bonus: And God Created the Holiday

A public holiday: that blessed day when society collectively pretends to honor traditions... but is really only thinking about one thing: sleeping.

Officially, it's a "day of commemoration" or an "important national celebration." Unofficially, it's a universal agreement to do nothing without guilt.

And most importantly, the key variable in the cosmic equation: no school.

But the real miracle, the one bordering on temporal illegality, is that this day fell on a Friday.

Translation for 99.99% of humanity: a three-day weekend. Three. Whole. Days.

In the school, the news spread faster than a bug in a class group chat: joyful panic, muffled screams in the hallway, students suddenly convinced that life was worth living.

The students knew it. The teachers knew it. The principal probably knew it too, but he had a reputation to maintain, so he pretended not to know-which is technically the definition of his job.

And yet. 8:15 a.m. Everyone in uniform. Present.

Applause.

INFJ stared at his timetable with the energy of a man reading his own sentencing. Today's chapter would not involve ENTP, nor ESTJ. But rather the 0.01% of humanity for whom a public holiday changes absolutely nothing.

—Hey.

He turned around. It was INFP, bag open, a book sticking out at a structurally concerning angle, her brown hair tied with an elastic that had clearly resigned several hours ago.

—You look tired, she said.

—I'm here. That's already heroic.

INFP nodded with the gravity of someone who deeply understands that statement.

They had known each other since middle school (or chapter 41, depending on the narrative continuity) and had remained friends. By momentum. No one had really made a conscious decision.

Then INTP arrived early.

That was unusual, but she had miscalculated the time required for her mental commute between "I should get up" and "I will get up," and by accident, her body acted before her brain had finished deliberating.

And there was no one in class...

Perfect.

She opened her notebook. Not the school one. Did she even have one? The other one. The one where she wrote questions like: does the concept of a "public holiday" imply that other days are differently holidayed, or not at all?

Seven minutes of intense writing.

The room filled around her.

INFJ entered, saw her, considered saying hello, mentally produced three versions, eliminated two for reasons he couldn't explain, and at the moment he finally chose the third...

—Good morning everyone, open your books to page 47.

INTP didn't look up.

Next time, thought INFJ.

Dear reader, he has been thinking that since September. It is April.

Break time. INTJ was on his usual bench.

Let's call it his bench, because no one else ever sat there, not because it was officially reserved, but because INTJ emitted something that discouraged approach. (Let's say that in this chapter ENTP, ESTP, and ESFP do not exist, okay?)