Chapter 10
That single cup of coffee forcibly dragged Julie through two periods of biology. Remembering that physics was up next, she went to the bathroom to splash cold water on her face. The sheer grief of it all washed over her. People who knew better would say she was attending class; people who didn't would think she was being tortured in a CIA black site.
Julie Carven, oh Julie Carven. Your middle name is Misery.
The happiest moment of the entire day turned out to be dinner in the cafeteria.
She remembered that during this time in her past life, her appetite had been massive. She devoured a cheap, massive bowl of salads and meat, then dragged Tania to the campus store for snacks. Tania got swept up in the momentum and bought two bags of dry ramen noodles.
The weather was beautiful today. The corridor outside the classroom was completely gilded in the soft, golden light of the setting sun. Nature truly was the greatest artist; the scene was breathtakingly beautiful.
Warren was helping the class representative carry the latest batch of test papers back from the teachers' office. As he walked down the long corridor, he saw a girl leaning casually over the railing. The pose revealed a sliver of her pale, slender waist. Her chin was resting on her arms as she gazed out at the sky, the crimson sunset illuminating the side of her face.
He quietly looked away, shifting his grip on the thick stack of papers, and walked into the classroom to drop them on the podium.
By evening, the temperature had finally dropped a few degrees.
Light spilled out from the windows of the academic building. The sound of students laughing and messing around echoed through the halls, blending with the pop songs playing over the campus broadcasting station. Julie’s emo-hour had concluded. She sat back at her desk, her face cupped in her hands, her expression deadly serious, as if contemplating the fate of the universe.
Her gaze drifted aimlessly.
A few seconds later, it snapped back, landing on Warren’s broad shoulders. Right. She still owed him six bucks.
She quickly dug a crumpled five-dollar bill out of her pocket, flattening it out aggressively against her desk, then fished a one-dollar coin out of her pencil case.
She stood up, took two steps, then froze and went back. Reaching her hand deep into her desk cubby, her fingers brushed against her stash of snacks.
“Warren!”
Warren had his head down, entirely focused on a mobile racing game. The sudden call startled him, making his thumb slip. He messed up the drift. Slowly, he looked up. Because he was sitting and Julie was standing, from his angle, she was completely backlit by the fluorescent classroom lights.
“Coffee money.”
Julie practically used the exact professional posture she reserved for handing over important documents to executive management. She placed the six dollars neatly on his desk.
Warren nodded, saying casually, “Alright.”
He lowered his eyes, wanting to salvage the race before his car completely crashed. He didn’t even notice when Julie walked away. But when the warning bell rang and he responsibly exited the game, he glanced down.
Sitting perfectly on top of the crumpled five-dollar bill was a Kit Kat bar.
“...”
Instinctively, Warren turned his head to look at Julie.
She was currently chatting with Beth Meier, laughing so hard she was leaning entirely over her desk.
“Where did that come from?”
Gary had been on cleaning duty today. He and another guy had taken the trash out, and Gary had washed his hands no less than five times, coming back with a deep scowl. But when he spotted the Kit Kat on Warren’s desk, he looked genuinely surprised.
People in class often asked Warren for favors—help with homework, passing messages—and the smarter ones usually bought him a drink or a snack as a bribe. But he almost never accepted them. Anyone vaguely familiar with him knew he didn't like sweets or junk food.
Warren didn’t answer the question. Instead, he said, “Take it if you want it.”
Gary immediately refused. “That is literally my least favorite thing on this earth.”
Before they could say anything else, the teacher walked in. Within moments, the classroom fell dead silent. Warren’s seat was fairly conspicuous, and his perfectly neat desk made the bright red Kit Kat wrapper stand out even more. Before the teacher could look over, he snatched the chocolate bar and shoved it roughly into the pocket of his sweatpants, a brief flash of helpless frustration crossing his face.
The test papers were passed back. Julie wrote her name at the top, and then her brain completely flatlined.
She read through the questions one by one. If anyone could hear her inner thoughts right now, they would be subjected to pure, unadulterated howling: What kind of human suffering is this?!
But there was more suffering to come.
This kind of pop quiz relied entirely on student integrity—open book, closed book, it was up to you. But Julie had no integrity. She was constantly flipping through the textbook under her desk, stressing so hard she accidentally yanked her hair tie completely out. By the end of the first evening study period, she weakly dragged herself out of the room, heading for the bathroom.
She desperately hoped nobody was paying attention to her, otherwise they would seriously suspect she had a bladder control problem. Who goes to the bathroom every single period like they’re clocking into a shift?
After dark, the corridor leading to the bathrooms was quiet. There were no classrooms on either side, and the lighting was dim. She took a few steps and heard a familiar male voice. She suddenly realized the guy walking just a few feet ahead of her was her future boss, Warren Gale.
“What’s the deal with Mr. Jenkins?” a laughing male voice echoed from the stairwell. “Did he print out the wrong test? The questions were too easy. So boring. Total waste of time.”
Julie: “?”
Warren didn’t sound particularly thrilled either, but he replied, “He probably knows we aren’t fully in the zone yet.”
Julie: “??”
Hahahaha. I’m going to kill you both. I’ll kill you with my bare hands.
“What is it?” his friend asked.
Warren had one hand shoved in his pocket. His fingers brushed against the Kit Kat wrapper. His shoulders stiffened for a fraction of a second. “Nothing.”
At most, he was just a little curious. Exactly how massive of a favor was she going to ask him for?
Was she trying to skip morning study hall? Or get out of the evening session?
It was senior year. If she was going to ask for a pass, she’d better have a decent excuse this time, not like before, when she’d stand in front of him, cheeks perfectly pink and healthy, and say “I’m not feeling well.”
