Zeanne Hates Me

Untitled Uncanon (Alternative test)

ZEANNE HATES ME

Chapter 1: She Hates Me

(Part 1)

Zeanne hates me.

And I'm completely convinced she does.

I don't know what I did.

Maybe I accidentally stepped on her shoe months ago and forgot about it.

Maybe I borrowed her pen in another lifetime.

Or maybe she simply woke up one day, saw my face, and decided,

"Yeah. I don't like that guy."

Whatever the reason is...

She's never told me.

Every weekday starts the same.

I walk into our classroom, half asleep, my bag hanging from one shoulder while trying not to spill the iced coffee I somehow convinced myself I needed despite already being late.

The room buzzes with conversations.

Some classmates are finishing homework they definitely should've done last night.

Others are already laughing over something stupid.

Someone's playing music from the back.

Everything feels normal.

Then...

I feel it.

That feeling.

Like someone's silently judging every life decision I've ever made.

I slowly turn my head.

There she is.

Zeanne.

Sitting near the windows with her usual expression.

She's already looking at me.

Not smiling.

Not surprised.

Just...

Staring.

Her eyebrows slightly furrowed.

The kind of look someone gives when they accidentally smell spoiled milk.

The moment our eyes meet...

She immediately looks away.

"..."

I blink.

"...Again?"

I haven't even taken my seat yet.

"What are you staring at?"

My best friend, Marco, nudges my shoulder.

"I think Zeanne hates me."

He doesn't even look up from his phone.

"She probably does."

"...You're supposed to comfort me."

"I'm comforting myself by accepting reality."

"What kind of friend are you?"

"The honest kind."

I sigh dramatically before dropping into my chair.

Coincidentally...

My seat is directly behind hers.

Not by choice.

Our adviser arranged the seating chart months ago.

I've asked to switch.

She never did.

Which is confusing.

If she hates me so much...

Wouldn't she be the first person asking to move?

Instead...

She just keeps glaring.

Every.

Single.

Day.

Our adviser enters the room.

"Good morning, class."

"Good morning, ma'am."

The lesson begins.

I try paying attention.

Keyword...

Try.

Because every few minutes...

I feel those eyes again.

I glance up.

Nothing.

Zeanne is facing the board.

"..."

Maybe I'm imagining things.

I continue writing notes.

Then...

I casually look forward again.

She quickly faces the front.

"..."

No.

I definitely caught that.

She was looking.

Again.

Why?

What did I even do?

During recess...

I decide today's the day.

Enough guessing.

Enough overthinking.

I'll just ask her.

Simple.

Direct.

Civilized.

I walk toward her desk while she's organizing her notebook.

She notices me approaching.

Immediately.

Her shoulders stiffen.

She slowly raises her head.

Our eyes meet.

"..."

"..."

"...Can I help you?" she finally asks.

Her voice is calm.

Too calm.

Like she's trying very hard not to sound annoyed.

"I just wanted to ask something."

"What?"

"...Do you hate me?"

Silence.

The classroom somehow becomes louder while the space around us feels strangely quiet.

She stares at me.

Completely expressionless.

"...What?"

"You keep glaring at me."

"I do not."

"You literally are right now."

"I'm looking at you."

"Exactly."

"Looking isn't glaring."

"It feels like glaring."

"That's your problem."

"..."

"..."

She returns to arranging her notebook.

"...That's it?"

She looks back up.

"What else were you expecting?"

"I don't know..."

"An explanation?"

"There isn't one."

"So you don't hate me?"

"I never said I hated you."

"Then why do you always look at me like I owe you money?"

"I don't."

"..."

"..."

"...You're impossible."

"And yet you're still standing here."

I open my mouth.

Close it again.

Why does every conversation with her feel like losing an argument I didn't know had started?

"Whatever."

I turn around.

As I walk back...

Marco is already waiting.

"Well?"

"I have more questions now."

"What happened?"

"I asked if she hated me."

"And?"

"She basically answered everything except the question."

Marco bursts into laughter.

"I told you."

"I don't get her."

"Neither does anyone."

I glance back.

Zeanne is talking to one of her friends.

For just a second...

She looks toward me again.

The moment our eyes meet...

She immediately looks away.

"...See?"

Marco sighs.

"Dude..."

"What?"

"I think you're just interesting to annoy."

"That's even worse."

Classes continue.

Math.

English.

Science.

Nothing unusual.

Well...

Almost.

During Science, our teacher asks everyone to form pairs for a short activity.

"Find a partner."

The room erupts into movement.

Chairs scrape across the floor.

Everyone immediately pairs with friends.

I look around.

Marco...

Already has someone.

"Traitor."

"Sorry."

I sigh.

Then our teacher speaks again.

"Anyone without a partner?"

I slowly raise my hand.

Another hand rises.

I don't even have to look.

I already know.

"...Zeanne."

The teacher smiles.

"Perfect."

"No."

The word leaves both our mouths at exactly the same time.

The class laughs.

Our teacher blinks.

"You two are partners."

"No, ma'am."

"We're fine alone."

"Exactly why you're working together."

"..."

"..."

Five minutes later...

We're sitting across from each other.

Neither of us says anything.

Our worksheet remains untouched.

She sighs first.

"Can you stop staring?"

"I'm waiting for you to start."

"You could start."

"I don't know what you're writing."

"You have eyes."

"They're busy getting glared at."

She slowly looks up.

"I'm not glaring."

"There it is again."

"You're unbelievable."

"So I've been told."

She pinches the bridge of her nose.

Then suddenly...

She reaches over.

Grabs my pencil.

And starts writing answers.

"...Hey."

"You weren't doing anything."

"I was thinking."

"You've been thinking for three minutes."

"Thinking takes time."

"Not that much."

"..."

She finishes writing before sliding the paper toward me.

"Continue."

"...You're bossy."

"And yet it's working."

I stare at her.

She stares back.

For the first time...

I notice something strange.

She isn't angry.

Not really.

If anything...

She almost looks...

Nervous.

Just for a split second.

Then it's gone.

Replaced by that same unreadable expression.

Maybe...

I really don't understand her at all.

The rest of the afternoon passed slower than usual.

Or maybe it only felt that way because I kept catching myself looking toward the front of the room.

Not directly.

Just enough to see the back of Zeanne's head.

I don't even know why.

Nothing had changed.

She still hadn't smiled at me.

She still hadn't said anything that answered my question.

She still looked at me whenever I wasn't supposed to notice.

Then looked away the second I did.

It was frustrating.

No.

Confusing.

The final bell rang.

The room instantly exploded into chatter.

Chairs scraped across the floor as everyone packed their bags.

Marco threw his backpack over one shoulder.

"You coming?"

"In a minute."

"You forgot something?"

"No."

"Then why are you still sitting there?"

"I don't know."

He stared at me for a second before following my line of sight.

"...Again?"

"What?"

"You're looking over there."

"I am not."

"You literally are."

"I'm thinking."

"About her."

"I'm thinking."

Marco sighed dramatically.

"I've never seen someone so interested in someone who clearly can't stand him."

"I am not interested."

"You've looked at her at least twenty times today."

"I was checking."

"Checking what?"

"If she was glaring again."

"And?"

"...She was."

"You sound disappointed that she wasn't."

"I am disappointed that I still don't know why."

He laughed.

"You're hopeless."

"I know."

He waved before leaving the classroom.

Within seconds, half the room had emptied.

I finally stood up and slung my bag over my shoulder.

Out of habit...

I looked forward.

Her chair was empty.

"..."

That was fast.

I could've sworn she was still there a second ago.

I shrugged and walked out.

The hallway was crowded as usual.

Students filled every corner of the building.

Some were already rushing toward the gate.

Others stood around talking.

I slowly made my way downstairs.

For some reason...

I felt like someone was watching me again.

I turned.

Nothing.

Just students.

I sighed.

Now I was imagining things.

The next morning...

Nothing changed.

I walked into the classroom.

And there she was.

Already seated.

Already looking in my direction.

The moment our eyes met...

She looked down at the notebook on her desk.

"..."

See?

I'm not imagining it.

I dropped my bag onto my chair.

Marco arrived a minute later.

"You look tired."

"I couldn't stop thinking."

"About homework?"

"No."

He immediately groaned.

"Don't tell me."

"..."

"It's Zeanne, isn't it?"

"...Maybe."

"Dude."

"I just don't get it."

"You don't have to."

"I do."

"Why?"

"Because no one randomly hates someone this much."

Marco shrugged.

"Maybe she does."

"...That's comforting."

"I'm trying."

Before I could answer, our adviser entered the classroom.

Everyone stood.

The lesson began.

I tried paying attention.

Really.

But every now and then...

I caught myself glancing forward.

Every single time...

It was the same.

Sometimes she was writing.

Sometimes she was listening.

Sometimes...

She'd already be looking at me.

And every single time...

She'd immediately look somewhere else.

Almost like she'd been caught doing something she wasn't supposed to.

I frowned.

What does she even gain from this?

The thought stayed with me until recess.

As everyone stood up, I decided I was done wondering.

I walked toward the front.

Not directly to her.

Just close enough.

She noticed.

Of course she noticed.

She quietly zipped her bag.

Picked it up.

And walked out of the classroom before I even reached her desk.

"..."

Seriously?

Marco walked past me.

"You got rejected before saying anything."

"I didn't even get the chance."

"Maybe that's the point."

"What point?"

"She doesn't want to talk to you."

"..."

That...

Actually made sense.

Which somehow made everything even worse.

The following days weren't any different.

Monday.

A glare.

Tuesday.

Another one.

Wednesday.

The same thing.

By Thursday...

I started expecting it.

Walk into class.

Feel someone's eyes on me.

Look toward the windows.

Find Zeanne already staring.

Watch her immediately look away.

Repeat.

It became a routine.

An incredibly weird routine.

One afternoon, our English teacher announced a group presentation.

"I'll be assigning groups."

Everyone immediately started whispering.

Please.

Anyone but—

"Group Three..."

The teacher read a few names.

"... Leeron."

Great.

"...Marco."

Okay.

"...Axel."

Sure.

And then...

"...Zeanne."

The classroom suddenly felt quieter.

I slowly turned toward Marco.

He slowly turned toward me.

"..."

"..."

He tried not to laugh.

"I'm switching schools."

"No, you're not."

"I'm considering it."

The teacher continued reading names.

I wasn't listening anymore.

All I could think about was one thing.

This was going to be awkward.

Very awkward.

When class ended, everyone immediately gathered with their assigned groups.

Marco nudged me.

"Let's go."

"I'm suddenly sick."

"No, you're suddenly dramatic."

We walked over.

Three other classmates were already discussing ideas.

Zeanne stood beside them.

She didn't acknowledge me.

Not even once.

She simply listened while someone suggested a topic.

Every now and then...

I'd notice her eyes drift in my direction.

Then leave just as quickly.

The meeting lasted barely ten minutes.

Most of the planning was done by everyone else.

Before I realized it...

People started leaving.

"So tomorrow?" one classmate asked.

"Yeah."

Everyone nodded.

Within seconds...

Only Marco and I remained.

"...She didn't say a single word to me."

Marco looked around.

"She's already gone."

I blinked.

She was.

I hadn't even noticed her leave.

How does she keep doing that?

That night...

I lay on my bed staring at the ceiling.

Maybe...

I really did do something.

Maybe I offended her months ago.

Maybe I forgot.

I tried remembering every interaction we'd ever had.

Nothing.

The first day of school.

Group activities.

Class events.

Even random conversations.

Nothing.

There wasn't a single moment I could think of that explained why she'd look at me like that.

I rolled over with a sigh.

"...Whatever."

Tomorrow would probably be exactly the same.

I hated the fact that I was right.

The next morning, I walked into the classroom expecting the same thing.

And I was right.

She looked at me.

Not for long.

Just enough for me to notice.

Then she looked away as if nothing had happened.

I wasn't even surprised anymore.

"Morning."

Marco slid into the chair beside mine.

"Morning."

"You look like you lost sleep."

"I did."

"Still thinking about Zeanne?"

"I'm trying not to."

"How's that going?"

"...Terribly."

He laughed before taking out his notebook.

"I seriously don't understand you."

"What?"

"If someone hated me that much, I'd avoid them."

"I do avoid her."

"You spend half the day checking if she's looking."

"I'm checking because she's looking."

"Whatever helps you sleep."

"I literally just said I didn't."

Before he could reply, our teacher entered the room.

Everyone settled down.

The lesson started.

For the first thirty minutes, nothing happened.

No strange looks.

No awkward moments.

Maybe today would finally be—

I looked up.

She was already looking at me.

"..."

The second our eyes met, she turned her attention back to the board.

I let out the smallest sigh.

Seriously.

What is your problem?

The teacher suddenly called my name.

"Leeron."

I immediately stood.

"Yes, Ma'am?"

"Can you answer number four?"

"..."

I hadn't heard a single question.

Marco quietly slid his notebook closer.

I glanced down just enough to catch the problem before answering.

Thankfully...

It was correct.

"You may sit."

"Thank you, Ma'am."

As I sat back down, Marco whispered,

"You almost died."

"I know."

"Stop looking around."

"I wasn't."

"You literally were."

"I was thinking."

"You always say that."

"Because it's true."

He shook his head.

"You're hopeless."

Classes continued until recess.

Everyone slowly left their seats.

I stayed behind for a moment, pretending to organize my notebook.

Truthfully...

I was waiting.

Not for anyone.

Just...

Waiting.

A few minutes later, I stood up.

As I turned toward the door...

There she was.

Standing outside the classroom with two of her friends.

She happened to glance inside.

Our eyes met.

She immediately continued walking.

"..."

Marco walked past me carrying a bag of chips.

"Again?"

"You saw that?"

"I don't even have to try anymore."

"I'm telling you."

"I know what you're going to say."

"What?"

"'She hates me.'"

"...She does."

"You don't know that."

"Then explain all this."

"I can't."

"Exactly."

After recess, our English teacher reminded everyone about the group presentation.

"You have one week to prepare."

The classroom buzzed with complaints.

Our group gathered near the back after class.

One classmate opened a notebook.

"Let's divide the parts."

Everyone agreed.

Ideas were passed around.

Assignments were written.

People discussed who would present which section.

The only person who barely spoke...

Was Zeanne.

She simply listened.

Occasionally nodded.

Wrote something in her notebook.

That was it.

I glanced at her once.

She was already looking in my direction.

She looked away first.

"..."

Did she even realize she kept doing that?

The meeting ended quickly.

Everyone packed up.

I was stuffing papers into my bag when Marco suddenly asked,

"So... are you going to ask her again?"

"No."

"Really?"

"I already embarrassed myself once."

"So you're giving up?"

"...No."

"Then?"

"I'm just waiting."

"For what?"

"I don't know."

He laughed.

"I've never met someone who's this confused."

"I'm confused because she makes no sense."

"Maybe you don't make sense."

"Thanks."

"Anytime."

The following week passed almost exactly the same.

Wake up.

Go to school.

Catch Zeanne staring.

She looks away.

Repeat.

At this point, it became so normal that I started noticing other people noticing.

During lunch, one of my classmates suddenly asked,

"Leeron."

"Hm?"

"Do you know Zeanne?"

I blinked.

"...We're classmates."

"I mean... are you friends?"

"No."

"Oh."

"Why?"

He scratched the back of his neck.

"I don't know."

"What?"

"I just catch her looking at you sometimes."

"..."

"..."

"So I'm not crazy?"

"What?"

"Nothing."

He shrugged before returning to his food.

Marco slowly looked at me.

"...Well."

"What?"

"Someone else noticed."

"I told you."

"I never said you were imagining it."

"You implied it."

"I heavily implied it."

I leaned back in my chair.

Now I was even more confused.

If other people noticed...

Then it wasn't just me.

Which brought me back to the same question.

Why?

School ended earlier than usual that Friday.

Students rushed out of the gate in groups.

Marco left ahead of me after remembering he had basketball practice.

I took my time.

There wasn't any reason to hurry home.

As I reached the front gate...

I looked back out of habit.

There she was.

Walking several meters behind with two classmates.

She wasn't looking at me.

Not this time.

I sighed.

See?

Maybe I was overthinking after all.

I turned around and continued walking.

About halfway down the street...

Something made me glance back.

She wasn't with her friends anymore.

She had taken another road leading away from school.

"..."

Why am I even checking?

I shook my head and laughed to myself.

This was getting ridiculous.

I didn't even know her.

Not really.

We'd never had an actual conversation.

Never texted.

Never hung out.

Never became partners by choice.

Yet somehow...

I spent more time trying to understand her than understanding our math lessons.

If someone asked me why...

I honestly wouldn't have an answer.

Maybe it was because nobody had ever looked at me the way she did.

Not angry enough to start a fight.

Not indifferent enough to ignore me.

Just...

Like there was something she wanted to say.

But never did.

And somehow...

That unanswered question stayed in my head longer than it should have.

Monday mornings always felt the longest.

The hallway buzzed with the usual noise as students greeted each other after the weekend. Some compared unfinished assignments while others complained about how quickly Saturday and Sunday had disappeared. I slipped my hands into my pockets and walked toward our classroom, hoping the week would be less confusing than the last one.

It wasn't.

The moment I stepped through the doorway, I felt it.

That familiar feeling.

I looked toward the windows.

Zeanne was already looking at me.

For a brief second, neither of us moved. Then, just like always, she lowered her gaze to the notebook on her desk.

I sighed to myself.

Of course.

I walked to my seat without saying anything.

Marco arrived a few moments later and noticed the expression on my face almost immediately.

"Don't tell me."

"I won't."

"It's about her again, isn't it?"

"I said I wouldn't tell you."

"So it is."

I dropped my bag onto my chair.

"I don't understand how someone can dislike another person this much."

"You still don't know if she does."

"What else am I supposed to think?"

"I don't know."

"I walk into class, she's looking at me. I look back, she looks away. Every single day."

Marco shrugged.

"Maybe she's judging your hairstyle."

"My hairstyle?"

"I'm trying to help."

"You're terrible at it."

"I've accepted that."

The first subject began before either of us could continue. I tried harder than usual to pay attention, forcing myself to keep my eyes on the board instead of the front row. It actually worked for almost an entire period.

Then our teacher asked everyone to exchange papers for checking.

The classroom immediately filled with movement.

Someone behind me tapped my shoulder and handed me their quiz.

I passed mine forward.

A few seconds later, another paper landed on my desk.

I looked at the name written at the top.

Zeanne.

"..."

What are the chances?

I stared at the paper for a second before reminding myself it was just another quiz.

Nothing special.

I uncapped my red pen and started checking.

Every answer was neat.

Every letter looked carefully written.

Not a single word had been scratched out.

She got almost everything correct.

The teacher read the final answer.

I marked one mistake.

Nineteen out of twenty.

Not bad.

"Pass the papers back."

I handed the quiz forward without another thought.

When the papers reached their owners, I caught myself looking ahead.

She was already reading her score.

Her expression didn't change.

Not even a little.

Most people would've smiled.

Or sighed.

Or reacted somehow.

She simply folded the paper once and slipped it into her notebook.

Nothing.

It was almost like she never showed anyone what she was thinking.

The bell rang, ending the subject.

Students immediately stood up.

Some walked around the classroom while waiting for the next teacher.

I stayed where I was.

Not because I wanted to.

Because I had nowhere else to go.

As I absentmindedly spun my pen between my fingers, I noticed movement from the corner of my eye.

Zeanne stood up.

She adjusted the strap of her bag before walking out of the room.

For some reason, I watched until she disappeared down the hallway.

"What are you looking at?"

Marco's voice snapped me back.

"Nothing."

"You said that while staring at the door."

"I wasn't staring."

"You absolutely were."

I rolled my eyes.

"Can we stop talking about her?"

"I'd love to."

"Good."

"But you're the one who keeps bringing her up."

"..."

He wasn't wrong.

That was the annoying part.

Every time I told myself I'd stop thinking about it...

Something happened.

Or rather...

Nothing happened.

And somehow that was even stranger.

By lunchtime, I had almost forgotten about the whole thing.

Almost.

The cafeteria was packed as usual.

Marco and I found an empty table near the corner and started eating.

Halfway through my meal, Marco suddenly stopped talking.

"What?"

He nodded toward the other side of the room.

I followed his gaze.

Zeanne sat with a few classmates near the windows.

She wasn't talking much.

Mostly listening while the others laughed about something.

Then...

Without warning...

She looked across the cafeteria.

Straight at me.

I froze.

Not because she was looking.

Because this time...

She didn't immediately look away.

One second.

Two.

Three.

Then one of her friends said something.

She blinked once before turning back to the conversation as if nothing had happened.

"..."

Marco slowly chewed his food.

"...That one lasted longer."

"I know."

"What are you going to do?"

"What can I do?"

"I don't know."

"Exactly."

I looked back down at my lunch.

My appetite had somehow disappeared.

Maybe I was reading too much into it.

Maybe she had simply been looking in my direction.

Maybe there was someone sitting behind me.

Maybe...

There were too many maybes.

School ended with the usual rush of students heading toward the gate.

I waited near the bicycle racks for Marco, who had gone back to retrieve the notebook he'd forgotten in the classroom.

The afternoon breeze carried the distant sound of students laughing somewhere outside the campus.

I leaned against the fence, scrolling aimlessly through my phone.

Footsteps approached.

I looked up out of habit.

Zeanne walked past.

She didn't slow down.

She didn't greet me.

She didn't even glance in my direction.

She simply walked by as if I didn't exist.

"..."

I watched her disappear beyond the gate.

Somehow...

That bothered me more than the staring.

I let out a quiet laugh.

"What am I even expecting?"

Marco finally jogged over.

"Sorry."

"You took forever."

"I know."

He noticed where I was looking.

"She's gone already?"

"...Yeah."

He slung his bag over his shoulder.

"Let's go."

As we walked home, I found myself glancing back toward the school one last time.

I didn't know why.

Maybe I was hoping to understand something.

Maybe I was hoping she'd stop looking altogether.

Either way...

I had a feeling this wasn't going to end anytime soon.

The next few days settled into a routine I never asked for.

Walk into the classroom.

Feel someone looking.

Look up.

Find Zeanne.

Watch her look away.

At first, I thought I was imagining it.

Then I thought it was a coincidence.

Now...

I didn't know what to think anymore.

Wednesday arrived with a surprise quiz.

The entire class groaned the moment our teacher placed a stack of papers on the table.

"I told you to review."

"You also told us there wouldn't be a quiz this week," someone complained.

"I changed my mind."

The room erupted with dramatic sighs.

Papers were passed from row to row until one landed on my desk.

I glanced at the first question.

"...Great."

Half the topics looked familiar.

The other half looked like they had never been taught.

Forty minutes later, the teacher collected our papers and dismissed us for recess.

I stretched my arms before standing.

"How'd you do?" Marco asked.

"I'll be lucky if I pass."

"You always say that."

"And I'm usually right."

We stepped into the hallway together.

Students flooded every direction, making it difficult to walk.

I looked toward the classroom windows without thinking.

She was still inside.

Everyone else had already left.

Zeanne sat alone, staring out the window.

Not at me.

Not at anyone.

Just...

Outside.

It was the first time I'd seen her like that.

Quiet.

Almost distant.

Marco nudged my shoulder.

"You coming?"

"Hm?"

"You stopped."

"Oh."

I looked back.

She had already lowered her head and started putting books into her bag.

"...Nothing."

We continued walking.

That image stayed in my head longer than it should have.

The next subject was Physical Education.

Normally, everyone became louder the moment we reached the gym.

Today wasn't any different.

Some classmates immediately grabbed basketballs while others sat on the bleachers, pretending they were too tired to participate.

Coach divided everyone into teams for a relay race.

Marco ended up on another team.

I sighed.

"There goes my only chance."

"You'll survive," he called from across the court.

"I doubt it."

The whistle blew.

The first runners took off.

The entire gym echoed with cheering and laughter.

When it was finally my turn, I sprinted toward the opposite end, nearly slipping on the polished floor before managing to keep my balance.

Our team somehow finished second.

Not bad.

I bent over, trying to catch my breath.

As I straightened up, my eyes wandered across the gym.

There she was.

Standing with the girls from her section of the line.

She wasn't talking.

Wasn't cheering.

She simply stood there.

Then...

She looked at me.

I blinked.

She looked away.

"..."

Seriously.

Even here?

"Leeron!"

Marco tossed me a towel.

"You alive?"

"Barely."

"You look distracted."

"I am."

"I know why."

"I hate that you know why."

"You make it obvious."

Classes continued until the final period.

Everyone looked exhausted.

Even the teachers seemed eager for dismissal.

Our adviser entered carrying a folder.

"I have an announcement."

The room quieted.

"Next Friday, we'll be having a class clean-up before the monthly inspection."

A chorus of complaints immediately followed.

"It's only one afternoon," our adviser said.

"You'll be assigned different areas."

She began reading names.

My assignment...

The classroom windows.

Marco was assigned the back shelves.

Someone joked that he'd probably organize them by color.

He took it as a compliment.

When the list ended, students started discussing who got the easiest tasks.

I wasn't paying much attention.

Instead...

I wondered what assignment Zeanne had received.

Not because it mattered.

Just...

Curiosity.

I glanced forward.

She was writing something in a small notebook.

Then, almost as if she felt my eyes...

She looked back.

Our eyes met.

Three seconds.

Maybe four.

Then she quietly closed the notebook and slipped it into her bag.

No expression.

No reaction.

Nothing.

The bell finally rang.

Everyone rushed to leave.

I packed my things more slowly than usual, waiting for the crowd to thin out.

By the time I stepped into the hallway, only a handful of students remained.

The afternoon sun spilled through the windows, casting long shadows across the floor.

As I walked downstairs, I heard laughter coming from the courtyard below.

Groups of students lingered near the gate, reluctant to go home.

I spotted Marco waiting under a tree.

He waved the moment he saw me.

"What took you so long?"

"Crowded."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Or were you waiting?"

"For what?"

"You know."

"I wasn't."

"You looked toward the classroom before leaving."

"...Did I?"

"You did."

"I didn't even notice."

"Exactly my point."

I sighed.

"This is getting annoying."

"What is?"

"I keep thinking about it."

"Then stop."

"I've tried."

"And?"

"It doesn't work."

Marco laughed.

"You know what I think?"

"What?"

"I think the mystery is bothering you more than the person."

I frowned.

"What does that mean?"

"If she ignored you completely, you'd probably forget about her."

"...Maybe."

"But she doesn't."

"No."

"So now your brain keeps trying to figure out why."

I stayed quiet.

Because...

He was probably right.

It wasn't the glaring.

Or even the possibility that she hated me.

It was the fact that nothing made sense.

Every answer led nowhere.

Every question stayed unanswered.

And somehow...

That made me look for another answer the next day.

And the day after that.

Without even realizing it.