I stepped onto the school grounds, the usual noise of chatter and footsteps filling the air, but my mind was elsewhere, focused, scanning the sea of faces. It's almost instinctual at this point—looking for familiar figures, piecing together the usual patterns of the day. My senses feel sharper, more attuned to every movement around me. I'm looking for Kiel, of course. But there's also Mia. The thought of her is like a small imperfection, a fraying thread in the fabric of my perfectly calculated routine. She shouldn't matter, but she does. My gaze shifts quickly from one group to another, studying each face with the kind of precision that only someone who's been doing this for years can. Haircuts, backpacks, the way people hold themselves—it's all part of the puzzle. I need to see them first, know where they are, and how they move. It's not just about spotting them; it's about knowing exactly how things are going to unfold.
Turning the corner by the lockers, I spot her. Mia. She's leaning against her locker, laughing with someone, looking completely carefree. The sound of her laughter drifts toward me, light and unburdened, and it's… irritating. How easy she makes it look, how effortless she seems. It's a confidence I don't understand, one that rubs against something inside me. I took a breath, clenching my hands in the pockets of my jacket, fighting the urge to step forward and disrupt the scene. Her laughter continues, like it's the most natural thing in the world. She's surrounded by people, comfortable in her own skin, at ease in a way I can never be. It's unsettling. I don't know why, but I feel like there's something too perfect about her—like she's doing all the right things without even trying. I hate how effortlessly she fits into the picture, a part of this place, without any hesitation.
She looked up, and for a split second, our eyes met. A flicker of recognition, maybe, or maybe I'm just imagining it. I froze, and then, almost too casually, I gave her a nod. It's not much, but it's enough. I don't want her to think she's affected me—she won't get that satisfaction. I let my gaze wander, as if I was looking past her all along, pretending like I'm not studying every movement she makes. But I am. I can't help it.
My focus shifts quickly, because I can't let this distraction linger. I need to find Kiel. He's the only one who really matters, the only piece that fits into this strange puzzle. Just the thought of him brings a strange calm, like there's a certain order in his presence. I feel this pull toward him, not because of affection, but because I can read him, predict him.
It's not love. It's control.
And there he is, in the distance. Kiel. I feel a slight shift in the air, a subtle change. He's walking down the hallway, his eyes scanning the room, distracted. But then, I saw her again—Mia, practically glued to his side. She's laughing at something he said, her hand brushing against his arm, so casually, so obviously. It makes me feel… something. It's not jealousy exactly. No, it's something colder. I can see what she's doing, and it's too obvious. The way she's positioning herself next to him, making it clear to anyone watching that she's with him. She's all surface, trying too hard.
I stop a few steps back, pretending I'm just another face in the crowd. From here, I take in every detail. The way she leans in too close, laughs too loudly, tries to capture his attention. It's like she's trying to stake her claim, but it's all too transparent. I know this game.
And then Kiel looks up. His eyes met mine across the hallway, and for just a second, everything went quiet. It's like time slows down, and there's this pulse of awareness between us. His glance is quick, almost absent, but there's something in it. Something that makes me stop. Does he think about last night? Does he wonder if it mattered? Or maybe he's just trying to read me—see if I've been affected.
I want to believe I'm the one in control of this situation, that I'm the one calling the shots. But that glance, that subtle moment, made me question it. For just a second, I feel… uncertain. Did he notice something in me? Did I give something away? The tug-of-war for power shifts in that instant, and I can't tell if I'm winning or losing. It's strange. For all the careful planning, all the ways I've steered this, I'm still not sure if I have as firm a grip on Kiel as I thought.
In class, it's no different. I sat in my usual spot, keeping my distance, observing as they settled in. Kiel and Mia slipped into their own world, talking quietly, like they're the only ones in the room. It's like they're in on some private joke, some secret only the two of them share. Kiel catches my eye again. This time, he doesn't look away as quickly. Then, just as the teacher begins speaking, there's a flick of paper landing softly on my desk. I glance down, and there it is—a folded note. Kiel's hand retreats, his expression unchanged, like it's nothing. But I know it's not. It's intentional. I unfold the paper slowly, my fingers almost trembling with the anticipation of what I'll find. His handwriting is neat, slanted, almost too deliberate:
"Didn't think I'd see you last night."
The words are simple, nothing more than a casual observation, but they hit me harder than I expect. He noticed. He's thinking about it, just like I am. The feeling of satisfaction surges through me. I've still got him—he's still paying attention.
But then doubt creeps in. Why this note? Why now? What's he really trying to say with just these few words? Is it a challenge? A question? Or is it just him, being distant, as if last night was nothing more than an afterthought?
I run my fingers over the edge of the paper, the mystery lingering. This note could mean a dozen things, each one more puzzling than the last. And that's fine, I tell myself. As long as there's uncertainty, I still have the upper hand. But somewhere, deep down, a whispering thought nags at me. What if I'm not as in control as I think? What if he's playing a game I don't fully understand yet? The question sits there, just out of reach, waiting for the right moment to reveal itself.
The professor enters the room, his usual no-nonsense expression in place, and immediately, the chatter quiets. He sets down his briefcase, clears his throat, and gets straight to the point.
"Alright, everyone, listen up. We'll be working on a group project this semester. I've already assigned the groups, so please take note of your partners."
He pulls out a sheet of paper, and there's a brief silence as he scans the list. I sit back in my chair, letting the weight of the moment settle. There's nothing I dislike more than being in a group where someone else tries to steer the ship..
The professor begins reading off the names. The air in the classroom seems to hold its breath as he calls out group after group.
"And for Group 4," he continues, his eyes scanning the paper. "We have Ms. Huang, Mr. Alexander, Ms. Perez, and Mr. Rosewood."
The moment he says our names, I can feel my focus narrow, zeroing in on the people I'll be working with. My gaze flicks over to Kiel, who's sitting across from me. I catch his eyes for just a second before he looks away, returning to his notes. Mia, on the other hand, seems too eager, already smiling in Kiel's direction, adjusting herself to be closer to him.
Lincoln Rosewood, who I barely know, doesn't react much at all. He's calm, sitting back in his chair with his usual quiet demeanor, but I can tell by the slight tilt of his head that he's paying attention. Lincoln's a dean's lister, smart but reserved, the type who works quietly in the background. That suits me just fine. I stand, smooth my skirt down, and make my way to the designated seats. The space between me and the others feels a little too small, like the air's thicker now that we're officially a team.
The professor goes over the guidelines, explaining the scope of the project: research, analysis, a report, and a visual presentation. As he speaks, I'm already formulating the plan in my head, outlining what each of us will do.
The professor finishes explaining, and I glance around the table, meeting each of their eyes for a moment.
"Let's get to work, then," I say, the words slipping out smoothly, like I've been in charge all along.
There's a slight pause, as if everyone is waiting for someone else to make the first move. But I'm already organizing the steps in my mind, mentally dividing the tasks.
The room falls into a quiet hum as we begin to organize ourselves into our respective tasks. I take a mental inventory of what needs to be done, already calculating in my head the best way to divide everything. The project isn't difficult—it's straightforward, really—but of course, there will be obstacles. And right now, the obstacle is sitting directly across from me.
Mia's voice interrupts my focus, a little too eager, a little too loud for my liking.
"So, I was thinking, maybe we could make the presentation, like, super creative?" She glances at Kiel as she speaks, her tone light and casual, as if she's just throwing out an idea. "Like, maybe we could do some sort of skit, or even a game—something to make it more fun?"
I don't hide the irritation that flares inside me. A skit? A game? What kind of nonsense is that? My gaze flicks to Kiel, and he seems unaffected, scribbling something down in his notebook, not even sparing Mia a glance. Good.
He focused on what matters—numbers, data, the only things that actually make sense in a project like this.
"Are you serious?" I asked, a little sharper than I intended.
Mia's smile falters slightly, but she doesn't back down. "What? I just thought it would be cool. You know, keep it engaging."
I leaned back in my chair, my fingers tapping lightly on the desk. "This isn't a circus, Mia. We're not here to entertain people. We need to present information clearly, effectively. We're not wasting time with 'games' or skits." I can feel my patience thinning. The thought of doing anything remotely 'fun' for this project just feels... trivial. What matters is structure. Precision. Order.
Mia's face tightens slightly, but she presses on, clearly unwilling to admit defeat. "Okay, but what if we do, like, an interactive poll or something? We can ask the class questions throughout the presentation, keep them involved. That way, it's still about the material, but it feels more engaging."
I stared at her for a moment, considering. Is she deliberately trying to make this harder than it needs to be? A poll? It's absurd. We're not running some focus group here; we're presenting facts, concrete data.
"No," I say, too quickly, cutting her off. "No polls, no games, no gimmicks. We need to stay focused on the research. We can make the presentation visually appealing, but not in some... juvenile way."
Mia crosses her arms, her eyes narrowing slightly. "I don't see why we can't add a little bit of personality to it. People don't want to be bored to death with a bunch of charts and graphs."
I felt the frustration bubbling under my skin. Why is she so stubborn about this?
I turned to Lincoln, who had been quietly listening to the exchange, his expression neutral as always. He's good at staying out of conflict. "Lincoln, what do you think?" I asked, trying to keep the tone of my voice even, though I'm already certain of my stance. "Can you see the value in making the presentation more... playful?"
Lincoln shifts slightly in his chair, looking between the two of us. "I think Keiyi's right," he said, his voice calm. "We need to keep it professional. Maybe a touch of creativity, but the core of it should be straightforward—data, analysis, clear visuals."
I can't help but feel a small surge of satisfaction. Lincoln's always been the quiet, reliable type, and having him on my side feels... right. I glanced at Mia, meeting her eyes. There's no need to make this a bigger issue than it already is, but she's making it hard for me to just let it go.
"See?" I said, my voice dripping with a touch of condescension. "We're not here to entertain people. We're here to present information."
Mia, however, doesn't seem ready to back down. She shoots me a tight-lipped smile, clearly irritated but unwilling to show it too much. "Fine. But I still think a little creativity would've been nice," she mutters under her breath.
"Creativity is fine, but it has to serve the purpose," I replied coolly. "The purpose isn't to make people laugh or 'engage' them like they're in a classroom full of five-year-olds. The purpose is to present the information clearly, and in the most efficient way possible." I turned to Kiel, waiting for his input.
Kiel finally looks up, his eyes meeting mine for just a fraction of a second before he quickly glances away. His lips curl into a faint, polite smile, and I feel a flicker of something—maybe an acknowledgement, maybe just an innocent glance. But I don't get the chance to analyze it for too long before he speaks.
"I agree with Keiyi," he said, his voice quiet but firm. "We should keep it focused. It's about the data. We don't want to distract from that."
There it is again, that moment of connection, brief but undeniable. I felt a slight satisfaction that Kiel is on my side, though I try not to dwell on it. I've got control, and that's all that matters.
Mia sighs loudly, clearly displeased, but says nothing further. She huffs and leans back in her chair, clearly upset that her suggestions were dismissed so easily.
"Alright," she mutters under her breath, "but I still think we're playing it too safe."
I ignored her, turning back to the task at hand. "Okay, let's go over the outline again," I said, shifting gears. "Lincoln, start with the introduction. Kiel, you handle the data analysis—get those numbers organized. Mia, focus on the conclusion. I'll take care of the body of the report. Everyone clear?"
There's a brief moment of hesitation, and then everyone nods. Mia, although clearly unhappy with how things are going, seems to accept her role without further protest.
The tension in the air hasn't gone away, but I can feel the control slipping back into place. I'm the one calling the shots, and no matter how many silly suggestions Mia throws out, I'm not letting go. This project, like everything else, will go exactly how I say.
__________________________________
The classroom hums with the low murmur of students, their focus already shifting to the next part of the day. As we stand in front of the class, my palms feel unexpectedly clammy. I forced myself to stay steady, to project confidence. Kiel is beside me, standing tall as usual, his posture effortless, as if he's in his element. Lincoln stands next to him, calm but aware, ready to contribute when needed. Mia is at the far end of the group, and I can already sense the tension building between us.
I took a deep breath and glanced at the projected slides behind me, organizing my thoughts quickly. The first slide displays our research. I began speaking, keeping my voice firm.
"As you can see here," I started, pointing to the chart, "we've broken down the data into clear categories to show the correlation between X and Y. Our initial findings suggest that the data points support a significant trend, which we'll explore in more detail."
I can see the class listening, some heads nodding along. I continue, laying out the methodology step-by-step. I can feel Kiel's quiet approval beside me, his support without needing words. This is what I do best: I know the material, I own it. I don't allow room for mistakes.
When it's Kiel's turn to present, his calm, confident tone brings an evenness to the presentation. He explains the statistical significance of the data—how we arrived at our conclusions, breaking down the numbers in a way that makes perfect sense.
"Our analysis shows that the correlation between the variables is statistically significant," Kiel says, tapping the chart on the screen. "With a p-value below the standard threshold, we can confidently say that the relationship isn't coincidental."
The class is quiet, hanging on every word. This is Kiel's domain—numbers, data. He owns it like I own my words. I glanced at Mia, standing to my right, watching her with the slightest bit of tension. She hasn't said anything yet, but I can tell she's itching to jump in.
When Kiel finishes, I hand it off to Lincoln. His presentation is neat, polished. He explains the secondary analysis and methodology clearly. There's a smooth flow to the way he presents the results, and I can feel the class warming to him. He's earned their attention with his thoroughness, just as Kiel and I did.
I'm ready to take over again, but I know the moment is approaching. Mia hasn't spoken yet, but I can see her fidgeting at the edge of my vision. She wants to contribute, but I'm not sure how much of it will actually help. I move to the next slide—the conclusion.
"We've found that the results align with our hypothesis," I continue, projecting my voice so everyone can hear. "This trend is not only significant but also consistent across different sets of data. With further research, we can build on these findings."
But then Mia speaks up, her voice uncertain but loud enough to make everyone stop and listen.
"I, uh, I think we should also, like, consider how X could affect Y, you know? Maybe it's, like, a reverse thing? Or maybe—"
She pauses, clearly unsure of how to finish her thought.
I feel my jaw tightened, my pulse quickening slightly. I fight the urge to snap at her, to shut her down before she says something ridiculous. She's fumbling with the information, trying to tie in ideas that don't fit, that don't even make sense with the data we've presented.
I took a step forward, smiling tightly, trying to maintain control. "Mia," I begin, my voice controlled but firm, "we did consider alternative explanations for the data in our secondary analysis. But the results don't support that hypothesis. The correlation remains consistent even when we control for that variable. The numbers don't lie."
I watch her face flush, her lips pressing together, and she nods quickly, retreating. But I know it's not over. She's still unsure, still trying to insert herself into the equation.
The room feels heavier now, as if everyone's holding their breath. I turn to Kiel for support, but he remains silent, watching me with that unreadable look. I don't want to look at him too long.
Lincoln shifts beside me, sensing the shift in the atmosphere. He doesn't say anything but steps in smoothly. "Just to clarify, Mia's point about considering reverse causality was something we did look at briefly in our initial hypothesis stage. But when we ran the numbers, it didn't hold up."
Mia nods again, and the tension fades just enough for me to feel a sense of control again. We're back on track. I stepped forward once more, taking over the conclusion.
"Exactly," I say, keeping my voice calm, bringing the focus back to where it should be. "Our findings are sound, and we can stand by them. There's no ambiguity in the numbers."
I glanced briefly at Mia, who's trying to hide her frustration. It's too late for her to salvage anything now. The control is back with me, where it belongs.
The room is quiet again as I finish the report, detailing our conclusions with precision. Kiel doesn't make eye contact this time, but I don't need him to. I know the results speak for themselves. The professor, Mr. Harrison, is leaning forward in his chair, hands folded, scrutinizing us with an almost calculating gaze. His sharp eyes lock onto our group as if waiting for any signs of weakness. He's strict, methodical, and holds us to the highest standards. The kind of professor who doesn't let anything slip by—if there's a hole in our logic, he'll find it.
As the last of our group presentation slides fade into the background, I can feel a shift in the room. The soft hum of conversation dies down, and the class grows quiet. The professor, Mr. Harrison, is leaning forward in his chair, hands folded, scrutinizing us with an almost calculating gaze. His sharp eyes lock onto our group as if waiting for any signs of weakness. He's strict, methodical, and holds us to the highest standards. The kind of professor who doesn't let anything slip by—if there's a hole in our logic, he'll find it.
"Alright," he says, his voice cutting through the quiet. "Let's go through your analysis in more detail. I'm sure you've put some thought into the methodology, but I'd like to hear more about your reasoning behind some of the key conclusions you presented. Ms. Huang, you started off with your hypothesis on the correlation between X and Y—care to elaborate on how you came to that conclusion?"
I straightened slightly at the sound of my name. Mr. Harrison's gaze is fixed on me, and I'm acutely aware of every detail—the way the room has quieted down, how Kiel and Lincoln are standing just a step behind me, each of them watching for any signs of a stumble. I take a breath, centering myself, and I start speaking.
"Yes, Professor," I begin, my tone steady but assertive. "In our initial analysis, we hypothesized that X would correlate with Y, based on previous research we've reviewed and the preliminary data we gathered. To control for other variables, we ran multiple regressions. The results consistently pointed to a strong correlation between the two, which is reflected in our final analysis."
Mr. Harrison nods slowly, his expression unreadable. "Mmh. That's a solid explanation of your approach, Ms. Huang, but I want to dive a little deeper into your rationale. Why did you decide to focus solely on those variables? What made you exclude others that might also influence the outcome?"
The question isn't unexpected. It's exactly the kind of scrutiny I knew would come, and I've prepared for it.
"Well," I said, holding his gaze with confidence, "we identified the most relevant variables based on the scope of our research question. The goal was to isolate the specific relationship between X and Y without introducing too many extraneous factors. We conducted a thorough literature review, and based on that, we identified which variables were most likely to impact the results. For instance, variable Z could theoretically impact both X and Y, but after running initial tests, it showed no significant effect. This allowed us to focus on the core relationship without skewing the data."
I kept my tone composed, careful to make sure every word counts. Mr. Harrison doesn't respond immediately, studying me closely. "Mmh. I see. But let's think about this from a legal standpoint for a moment. You've narrowed your focus, but in business, that's where things often get tricky. When selecting variables, especially in financial modeling, there's always the possibility of overlooking a factor that could shift the entire conclusion. How confident are you that your analysis wouldn't be subject to regulatory scrutiny in the future? Could these oversights jeopardize the integrity of the model?"
I'm ready for this. I've been preparing for this line of questioning since we started the project. "That's an important consideration," I replied, my voice steady. "From a legal perspective, particularly in business accounting, models are often audited to ensure they're free of bias and that the assumptions are clearly stated. We ensured that all assumptions were documented and that we applied industry-standard practices. If we were to face a regulatory audit, our methodology holds up because we've controlled for external variables and provided a clear rationale for each decision."
I took a moment to let that sink in. Mr. Harrison's gaze softens a fraction, and he nods, seemingly satisfied with my response. "You've made your case," he says, his tone a little more approving. "But you're right—business models can be challenged in court, especially if there's a lack of transparency in assumptions. Good job."
I feel a small rush of relief, but I don't let it show. I can't afford to be too comfortable, not when I know how quickly things can change.
Mr. Harrison tilts his head slightly. "Let's move on. You mentioned a legal framework that governs financial transparency. What about the potential implications of your analysis for corporate governance? Could this data be used to make critical business decisions? How might legal requirements impact how the results are interpreted?"
I'm ready for this, too. The legal side of business accounting has always been a strength of mine. "Absolutely. Corporate governance requires decision-makers to have access to reliable and transparent data. If the results of our analysis were used to guide a business decision, the company would need to ensure that any assumptions and limitations are disclosed. In fact, transparency is a key legal requirement in many jurisdictions, particularly when dealing with financial reporting. Any decision made without full disclosure could expose the company to legal risk, especially if the analysis is misinterpreted or if any important variables are excluded."
Mr. Harrison raises an eyebrow, clearly impressed. "You're right. Transparency is key. And in the world of business law, it's your job to ensure that the analysis you present isn't just accurate but defensible. Keep that in mind as you move forward."
He shifts his attention, then, toward Kiel, and I know what's coming next. "Mr. Alexander," he begins, "you've walked us through the statistical significance of your findings, but I'm curious. How confident are you that your results are accurate? In particular, was there any particular statistical model that you feel best explained the relationship between X and Y?"
Kiel's gaze sharpens, and he doesn't hesitate. "We've accounted for multiple factors in our regression models, sir. We ran both linear and logistic regressions to check for consistency. The results were consistent across both models. Additionally, we tested the accurateness of our findings by running them with different subsets of the data, ensuring that the relationship holds up across various scenarios."
Mr. Harrison nods approvingly, but then his gaze flickers toward Lincoln. "Mr. Rosewood," he says, his tone serious, "what's your take on the relatedness of this model? Do you see any potential flaws or weaknesses in their assumptions?"
Lincoln clears his throat, standing a little straighter. "Well, from what I can tell, the models seem pretty solid. The data's been carefully handled, and the assumptions are clearly laid out. But, from a legal perspective, I think it would be useful to include more risk-adjusted models, especially if this data were to be used in real-world business scenarios. That's something that might come up in a legal challenge, as there could be claims of negligence if the analysis fails to account for potential risks."
I glanced at Lincoln, surprised at his insight. He's clearly sharp. I nod in agreement, acknowledging his point. "That's a good suggestion Mr. Rosewood. Risk-adjusted models would provide a more comprehensive view, especially when the analysis is being used to support high-stakes decisions."
Mr. Harrison seems pleased with the response. "I'll give you credit for considering the legal and practical implications. Remember, in business, it's not just about the numbers; it's about what they represent and how they can be used—and misused—in decision-making."
The conversation turns back to Mia, but I can tell she's starting to fade into the background again. Eventually, the professor wraps up the discussion. "Well, this was a strong presentation. You've all done well, but remember that in the real world, these analyses are only as good as your ability to defend them. Always be prepared for scrutiny, whether it's from auditors, regulators, or—" he glances at Mia briefly, "—stakeholders."
However, the class began to stir again, and I exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of the moment lift just a little. The class is still, a hushed silence hanging in the air as Mr. Harrison's eyes shift from me to Mia. He's already analyzed my responses with his usual meticulousness, but now, he seems to turn his attention to her. I feel a flicker of unease. Mia's been quiet throughout most of the discussion—apart from the occasional nervous laugh or shrug when questioned, as if trying to hide in plain sight. I can feel the pressure mounting on her now. The professor expects more from everyone, and Mia… well, Mia doesn't handle pressure well.
Mr. Harrison leans forward, hands steepled. "Ms. Perez," he begins, his voice calm but firm. "You mentioned earlier that the data supports a trend we're all aware of, but could you walk us through your reasoning for why you chose those specific variables? Your conclusion seemed a little... overly simplistic. I'd like to hear your thought process."
I watched as Mia froze for a second. She's not used to being the center of attention like this, not in this context. Her cheeks flush slightly, and she fidgets with the hem of her sleeve. She cleared her throat before speaking, but her words came out uncertain.
"Uh, well, I just thought, you know, that the data… it kind of speaks for itself? I mean, the trend's there, right?" She forces a smile, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes. Her voice trails off as if she expects the rest of us to fill in the blanks.
Mr. Harrison doesn't let it slide. "Ms. Perez," he said, his tone more pointed now. "Data doesn't just speak for itself. It needs to be interpreted correctly, with proper reasoning behind each choice. What makes you confident that these particular variables are the right ones to focus on? And, perhaps more importantly, how do you account for the factors you've excluded?"
Mia blinks rapidly, clearly taken off guard. Her face twists as if she's trying to remember what she was supposed to say. "Uh, well… I guess I just, um, I didn't think those other factors mattered as much? Like, they didn't really affect the outcome. So I just, you know, ignored them."
I feel my heart rate pick up slightly. Her answer is all over the place. It's vague, dismissive even—just the kind of answer that would get us all into trouble if left unchecked. I can almost feel the tension in the room grow as Mr. Harrison watches Mia, his expression now a mix of skepticism and mild disapproval.
"Mia, you can't simply dismiss important variables," Mr. Harrison says, voice low and measured. "In business, particularly in financial analysis, ignoring potential factors that could affect your results is careless. It's not just about what's convenient. How do you justify that decision?"
Her lips parted as if to respond, but the words falter, tangled up in her own uncertainty. She looks at Kiel for help, then at Lincoln, and finally at me, clearly hoping someone will save her. But none of them step forward. Kiel, as usual, is quiet, avoiding eye contact with everyone around him. Lincoln shifts uncomfortably, clearly not understanding the full weight of the question.
I exhaled slowly, my mind working quickly. I can feel all eyes on me now. I know what I have to do. There's no room for hesitation. If Mia can't handle this, then I'll step in and clean it up.
I stand up a little straighter, maintaining my calm exterior, and take over. "Professor," I interjected smoothly, addressing Mr. Harrison with a confident, almost businesslike tone. "If I may. What Mia is trying to say is that, in some cases, the exclusion of certain variables was intentional. We focused on the most significant variables to reduce complexity and avoid data overfitting. The reasoning behind our selection was rooted in established models, and by removing variables that didn't show significant correlation, we were able to better isolate the key trends in the data. The rationale isn't about dismissing factors; it's about creating a more reliable model without unnecessary noise."
I turned slightly to Mia, offering her a small, almost imperceptible nod to reassure her that I've got this covered. She looks at me, wide-eyed, but relieved that I've taken over the explanation.
Mr. Harrison pauses, then nods slowly, seemingly satisfied with my clarification. "Mmh, that's a more structured approach. I would caution, however, that in real-world applications, you'd still need to justify the exclusion of those factors more rigorously. But, yes, I see your point."
Mia's shoulders dropped in relief, and I can feel the weight lift off her as the professor shifts his attention away from her. She offered me a quick, quiet "thank you," but I don't acknowledge it. I rolled my eyes instead. I'm not doing this for her—this is for the group, for Kiel, for Lincoln, and mostly, for myself.
The professor cleared his throat. "Alright, well, despite the earlier lapse, your group's analysis was competent. But next time, I expect clearer communication from each of you. Data interpretation is a skill, not an instinct."
His words lingered in the air as the class started to relax, the tension diffusing as quickly as it had built up. But I can't help but feel a flicker of irritation. Why is it always me who has to clean up after Mia? Why is it always my responsibility to make sure everything stays on track?
I glanced over at her, and her eyes met mine briefly. There's something there—a hint of gratitude, maybe, or perhaps just the realization that she's out of her depth. But either way, I can't shake the feeling that this dynamic isn't going to change.