In the days following the incident with the notebook, her routine remained as predictable as ever.
Each morning, she would arrive at the classroom, navigate through the bustling chaos of students, and take her place at the third desk in the first row, by the window.
The classroom was always lively with chatter and laughter, but not a single student acknowledged her presence. She would put on her earphones, isolating herself from the surrounding noise, and wait quietly for the first period to begin.
This was her standard routine: attending classes, having lunch either at her desk or in the garden behind the building, and then heading home.
Over the week that followed, the only noticeable change in her routine was the unsettling sensation of being watched.
She couldn't shake the feeling that someone's gaze was constantly fixed upon her. This subtle shift in her daily experience led her to avoid the classroom for lunch, preferring the garden despite the chill of late autumn.
The cold, though biting, was manageable with layers of clothing. However, the persistent feeling of being watched was more distressing than the dropping temperatures. Her sensitivity to being observed made it impossible for her to simply ignore it or confront the unwanted observer.
Her wish for solitude and peace was shattered when, after another week, her routine was abruptly disrupted by none other than Luca Atkinson—the boy who had seen the forgotten notebook.
"Why not her story?" Luca's suggestion was simple yet impactful.
It was the first time since her arrival that all eyes in the classroom were focused on her, and Luca stood at the center of the attention, a proud smile lighting up his face.
The timing couldn't have been more significant.
Between late October and November, high schools across the region prepared for one of their most anticipated events: the school festival.
Students eagerly awaited the festival each year, as it offered opportunities for creativity and connecting to more people. Together with experiences you can only have during the school festival.
They could choose between two competitions: the play competition or the sales competition.
The play competition involved staging a theatrical performance, while the sales competition required setting up a café, restaurant, or other sales-based venture to generate revenue from their peers.
As third-year students, they were once again presented with the option to participate in the play competition, much like their second-year experience.
The majority of the class voted for the play competition, deeming it less resource-intensive compared to the sales competition.
This year, out of ten third-year classes, only three had chosen the play competition. With only two other competitors, the odds of receiving an award seemed favorable, as prizes were awarded up to the third place.
When the decision was announced, Patricia, the class president with mid-back length straight hair and an active disposition, addressed the class with a smile.
"We're quite fortunate this time. We'll receive an award, whether we place last or not," she said confidently.
Her optimism was met with mixed reactions.
"Hey, President Patricia, don't jinx our place in the competition," one student protested with a laugh.
"That's right. With only two other competitors, don't we have a better chance of being number one?" another added.
The class buzzed with enthusiasm and competitive spirit.
Patricia giggled, her excitement evident.
"It seems I've sparked your competitive edge," she said with a playful smile.
Leaning forward, she placed both hands on the table, "So, how should we approach this?"
Her question was met with a chorus of ideas, many of which were lighthearted and fantastical.
"Snow White!"
"Cinderella!"
"Sleeping Beauty!"
The suggestions rang out.
"Guys, what are you, grade schoolers?" Patricia teased, shaking her head at the whimsical suggestions.
The class's playful banter continued, but Patricia knew they needed a more serious approach. Just then, Luca, who had been sitting with a laidback attitude and a bright smile, stood up from his seat in the second row of the fourth column.
His presence commanded attention as he made his way to the first row and stood beside another girl's desk, his grin widening.
"How about a new story? Something not magical," he proposed, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
"Stop being mysterious, Luca. It doesn't suit you," a classmate teased, impatiently awaiting his suggestion.
Luca's laugh was met with swoons from several girls and admiring glances from his peers. Known for his charm and helpful nature, Luca had earned the respect and affection of students and teachers alike. Though he shunned the responsibilities of being class president, he wielded a natural authority that commanded attention.
With his grin growing wider, Luca gestured toward her desk.
"How about a new story? Her story?"
All eyes turned to the girl seated at the third desk in the first row. She was looking up at Luca with a mix of confusion and irritation. Her usually indifferent demeanor was replaced by a deep frown, and her classmates struggled to recall her contributions or achievements.
She was often overshadowed, her presence so subtle that she blended into the background.
Her classmates exchanged puzzled glances, racking their brains to remember if she had excelled in any area. She was someone who was average performance and unremarkable presence, making it difficult for others to recall any notable traits or accomplishments.
The weight of the classroom's attention bore down on her as she sat there, feeling both exposed and uncomfortable.
The peaceful existence she had strived to maintain was turned upside down by Luca's suggestion, and the gaze of her peers, who had previously ignored her, was now fixed firmly upon her.