Preliminary exams have concluded. I got perfect scores and was thus awarded the highest academic points set for the preliminary. Two days after our exams, the official voting for this year's set of school officers began.
Every student and teacher is required to vote. I heard that the school's headmistress, whom I have never seen since I got here, is required to vote as well.
Voting is done through every department and department branch. Students were divided into groups and assigned a room where we would cast our votes. The room number is randomized, so you'd most likely end up with different students from different year levels.
Coincidentally, I ended up in the same classroom as Rose.
I was quite nervous as this was my first time voting, so I'm really glad that I found someone I knew.
"Don't be so nervous," Rose said, tapping my shoulder. "The system of voting here is similar outside. You get your ballot, shade the circle next to your chosen candidate, and then drop it on the ballot machine in front."
Rose made it sound so easy, but my overly anxious brain kept on thinking of dumb ways that might cause me to mess things up. This is one of those days where I just want my brain to shut up.
I had the same exact experience during my first time voting in the national election just a few months ago.
When the time to cast our vote finally came, our group lined up as we needed to have our I.D. scanned at the door before we were allowed inside. They used a similar scanner that professors use to check class attendance.
The number of chairs is equivalent to the number of students. The ballots and markers are already placed on top of each table, so you could just sit anywhere you like. Furthermore, detachable walls are placed on each table to prevent students from peering at each other.Those walls were the same ones attached to our tables during our preliminary exam.
Those walls are actually strategic parts of the student's desk. It works like a car's window and slides up and down using a small button under each table. It can also be manually pulled up in case of a malfunction. The side walls are made of hardwood, while the front is a glass panel. It's mostly used during exams and quizzes, but some students also use it to block annoying seatmates while studying.
In addition, the seats are separated by an aisle.
Although Leandro doesn't really have an opponent, and he has already won by default, I still shaded the circle next to his name. I also spent an entire weekend studying and learning about the other candidates running for office.
The presidential election is taken quite seriously at this school. Even the eccentric Genevieve is being very diligent in choosing who she wants to vote for. We even had a little debate about which candidate was way better.
It was a healthy debate that ended in a concession.
After shading my chosen candidates, I then went to drop it off at the ballot machine. Unlike the machine used in the national election, the machine did not spit out a printed summary of the people for whom I voted. There is a small screen on the left side of the machine where the summary is shown.
The screen was as small as a phone and was slightly slanted downward so the person manning the machine wouldn't see what was written. The same way, the person behind me can't see it as well, as there is a distance that needs to be maintained between students, when queuing for the machine.
You had to scroll down to see every name listed in the summary.
"Your vote was sent to the central system in real time. You can check the live count in the student hall," the guy running the machine said after I double-checked the voting summary.
I was worried about the next person seeing who I voted since I did not see any mechanisms or buttons I could use to remove it. But as soon as I backed away slightly from the machine, the small screen automatically turned back to being black.
Most students headed for the student hall to watch the live count. They really do take the student elections here seriously. The experience was something new to me.
I don't even remember our student government officers during high school, nor do I remember voting for any of them.
But this place is different, the atmosphere of the entire place is similar to that of a national election. They thoroughly thought about who they wanted to vote for, as if their lives depended on it. Well, as the student government in the academy has almost absolute power, you could say it really does.
Instead of following the students going to the student hall, I decided to leave and head to the bookstore instead. With Leandro leading, I don't think I have anything to worry about.
However, as I was getting ready to start the engine of my electric cart, my phone vibrated in my pocket.
"Come to the Dragon Tower. I'm free today," was the first thing I heard the moment I answered the phone. The guy didn't even bother to say hello!
"Why should I?"
"Huh? We promised to go drinking during my free time!" he exclaimed. "And don't lie about forgetting, you have a photographic memory," he added dryly.
"Does it have to be today?" I couldn't help but feel a bit conflicted while thinking about the bookstore.
"My free time is today."
I could only sigh. I guess I'll just have to put my book-hoarding plans on hold for now.
"Fine, I'll be there in 20 minutes."
"Great! Go directly to Rebecca's penthouse once you arrive."
And Mr. Handsome Guy, who claims to be a very polite person, ended the call just like that.
…
Clint, aka Mr. Handsome Guy, wasn't there yet when I arrived. The only one who was there was Rebecca, who led me to her giant living room.
"So, you and Clint actually ended up becoming friends," she said with an amused smile.
"More or less?" I answered vaguely. I don't really know if I can call him a friend or if I have the right to do so. More importantly, does that guy even see me as a friend?
"Anyways, that guy can be really awkward, so I hope you can be a bit more patient with him." Rebecca's expression when she said those reminded me of Genevieve's expression whenever she worries about me.
"Clint grew up in front of the camera. He barely had a life behind it. His every action is always under millions of people's watchful eyes. He always had to live carefully or face scrutiny. That guy doesn't really have a friend growing up. He often acts out when the cameras are off, as a way of rebelling against the role he was forced to constantly play. So you could really tell how that turned out for him."
I can't help but pity him. His unusual antics really are a bit annoying at times. But now that I knew more about his past, I finally understood him better.
"I thought that by taking him away from his parents' claws and sending him to this academy, he would finally gain the freedom he deserves. But his parents' hold on him is actually deeper than I thought. Since his birth, he had been conditioned by his parents to do their every command without question. I should've known that it wouldn't be that easy to free him from them."
How could such cruel parents actually exist? Don't they feel any remorse for controlling their child's life like that? How can someone actually wake up every day carrying the guilt of destroying someone and turning them into a puppet for their own gain?
I felt a burning rage against Clint's parents growing in my heart.
Click
Rebecca and I turned toward the door when it opened. Clint came out of the door carrying two big bottles of wine without any label on them. He was wearing a plain white t-shirt and gray jogging pants today. His arm muscles flexed as he carried the two seemingly heavy bottles.
"Finally, you're here, jerk!"
Just a moment earlier, she looked all caring while talking about Clint's past. Yet, she's acting like he's the most annoying human she's ever seen in front of him now.
Ah, human relationships are really complex.
Rebecca turned her head toward me. "Then I should get going now. I still have an old man to babysit," she said, waving her hand goodbye.
"Wait, you're not drinking with us?" I asked.
"Nah, I'm good. You kids enjoy!" And with that, she left.
"Why were you assuming she'd join us?" Clint asked as he sat on the matted floor across from me, with the glass table between us.
"Because we're in her penthouse?" I said it with a hint of sarcasm.
"Oh, well, I just thought that you'd be more comfortable, drinking in a female's house, so I asked if we could go drinking in hers."
Wow, I can't help but be touched by his thoughtfulness... except I'm going to drink with a male, and the female owner of the house just left. So I don't really know which in this situation fits his definition of comfortable.
Seriously, how much of his social abilities did his parents screw up?