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18. Her Photogenic Memory

*Mia's P.O.V*

Anna grimaces. "Don't you know?"

When I give her my best 'just tell me' sigh, she exhales loudly.

"Ok." Then she instructs, "Pretend that I'm talking about insects."

Adhering, I touch the microscope as she starts her monologue.

"So, the story in the magazine has to do with something that happened a long time ago in my alma mater. I used to attend a Catholic, military-type of school for girls. They also have a boy's school and, ur, they like to send their best students to international competitions. Hence, they either send selected girls to the boys' school or vice versa, but in my time, they moved us girls to go through rigorous training before the final shortlist."

"Ok."

"So, amongst we, the chosen ones, was a twin who had a brother in the boys' school. Now both of them were picked, but honestly...like, the girl had a photogenic memory and all, but besides that, she was pretty...dumb. And the brother must have known because he asked me to help her. So I tried...I really did. The girl, however, well, was doing drugs and sneaking into boys' dorms. Then, when I warned the brother about what she's been up to, he misinterpreted what I said to mean that his sister couldn't possibly get on the shortlist, so he quit. I was not ok with that, so I tried changing his mind. And guess what the girl did?"

"What?"

"She told her dad that I was disturbing her brother, and then the dad reported to the school, and then it became such a big deal that my parents had to fly me back home. And after the trouble she put me through, the girl did not even win anything."

"Wow."

Anna huffs. "Ya, but all is forgiven now. The girl and I became good friends." Then she chuckles, "I was invited to her mom's engagement party last year. What a mess that was."

"Wow," I repeat, making Anna scrunch her nose.

"What's wow?"

I shrug. "I don't know. Honestly, I kinda expected that you did something extremely horrible."

"Why? Because people exaggerate it?" She snickers, " Guys, especially... when they can't get a girl, they use her past as an excuse to feel better about themselves."

"I understand that. Sorry, Anna."

She smiles at that, and our focus reverts to the aphid under our microscope.

Soon, the lesson ends; then school closes; the next day ends; then it's the following day.

I set out so early that even Aunt Lisa waves me goodbye in a disoriented state. Marching upstairs, I commend myself for being among the first few people to come to school. I even presume that the guy is not there until, to my surprise, I see him reading on the rooftop.

He shuts the textbook and lets out a chilly sigh as I walk towards him.

"Good morning." I sit on the neat amber rug he has laid on the cement floor. His head bobs in response. I pull out my chemistry textbook as the jotter beside him gains his attention.

Peeping at his freakishly typewriter-ish handwriting, I flip to the topic my class is currently on. We exchange books, and I read: "Please, can I set questions for you? Also, can you kindly write down every topic you struggle with below?"

I look at him before affirming both requests. His gaze rises only briefly to receive his jotter, and then he writes on a new page. When shiny strands of his hair free themselves from his braid to sway momentarily between books, I conclude that he's setting questions indeed.