By Quill or By Quarrel

Nick and Blake walked into Ms. Keane’s class. It was Wednesday, first period — English and Literature. Blake sat in his usual seat, and Nick in his, two rows over by the windows.

The morning sun streamed in, too bright for how tired Blake felt. He dropped his bag with a thud and slouched into his chair. Nick already had that look — like he knew something Blake didn’t.

As the bell rang, Ms. Keane stepped forward and tapped the whiteboard twice with a dry-erase marker. “Eyes up.”

The room quieted.

She turned and, with quick, aggressive strokes, wrote in all caps: GROUP PROJECT.

Blake let out a soft groan and sank lower in his seat.

He could already feel Nick smirking two rows over — because of course Blake was going to get stuck with someone uptight, or worse… someone who actually cared.

Ms. Keane capped the marker with a sharp click, like she was locking a vault. “This unit, you’ll be working in pairs. Literature isn’t just about analysis — it’s about interpretation, discussion, argument. And sometimes,” she added, eyes sweeping across the room, “the best arguments happen when you don’t get to choose your sidekick.”

Someone in the back muttered, “Here we go.”

Ms. Keane smirked. “I’ve already made the groups. Randomly.”

She began calling names off her clipboard.

“Jordan and Sasha. Nathan and Kelsey. Ethan and Levi.”

Levi fist-bumped Ethan with a loud “Let’s go,” and half the class chuckled.

“Nick and Sadie.”

Nick leaned back with a smug grin. Sadie didn’t look quite as amused.

Blake tapped his pen, counting the names left in his head. A few options remained. None great.

And then—

“Vivienne and Blake.”

His pen stopped mid-tap.

Nick turned with a giant grin and mouthed: good luck.

Across the room, Vivi didn’t react. She was already pulling a fresh sheet of paper from her folder, eyes focused, posture annoyingly perfect.

No groan. No visible disdain. Just… immediate productivity. Somehow that was worse.

Ms. Keane continued down the list like she hadn’t just upended Blake’s morning. He slumped into his seat again.

“Great,” he muttered. “Group projects and judgment.”

Nick chuckled. “You’re so screwed.”

Blake stared at his notebook, then let his eyes drift toward Vivi again. She was already writing something in the margins of her paper. Efficient. Exact. Unbothered.

Yep. Screwed.

“Alright,” Ms. Keane said, clapping her hands once. “Go sit in pairs. Let’s get started.”

Blake gathered his stuff and made the slow walk across the room to sit next to Vivi. She didn’t look up as he slid into the chair beside her.

“Hey,” he offered.

“Hey,” she replied flatly, eyes still on the page.

Ms. Keane continued, “One person from each pair, come to the desk and pick up a sheet. It contains everything you need to know about your topic. And no, you can’t copy. Each pair has a different one.”

Blake turned toward Vivi. “Should I go?”

Vivi sighed, not even looking up. “Who else?”

“Right.” He got up and grabbed their sheet from the front, then returned and placed it on the table between them.

“Alright,” he said. “Let’s take a look.”

That finally got Vivi’s attention. She glanced at the page and pointed. “Put it here. Let’s read.”

Blake slid it toward the middle of their desks. The header read:
Unit Project: Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet.

Of course it did.

Blake scanned the instructions while Vivi was already halfway down the page.

“So how do we divide the work? I hope here Mr. Future Valedictorian does some work too” Vivi said.

“You already read the whole thing?” he said, surprised.

“I read fast,” she replied. “Lots of practice. Ashbourne masion’s library has a better collection than most colleges.”

“Let me finish reading then—”

“I can summarize,” she interrupted. “We read Romeo and Juliet, analyze it, identify Shakespearean traits, Baroque influences, all that ‘academic rigor’ Ms. Keane loves so much.”

Blake blinked. “What kind of traits?”

“Seriously? How do you get A's? Do you just spend all the time ogling the teacher to not know that? Dramatic irony, elevated language, themes of fate, love, ****, blah blah,” she said, flipping her pen in her fingers. “Then we write about what Shakespeare intended and how the text reflects its time. Yawn.”

“And then?”

“Then comes the fun part. We write a poem using those same traits. Three pages.”

Blake's eyes went wide. “Three pages? Who writes a three page poem?.”

“Don’t worry,” she said with a shrug. “I’ve done this kind of thing before. Besides, I'm used to pulling the weight.” she added.

“Me too,” Blake said responding to her comment.

“We’ll see” Vivi said.

He stared at her for a second.

“What, you think I'm useless?”

“You're a Hartley.”

The answer came so quickly it was obvious she'd already made up her mind.

Blake's jaw tightened.

“Shut the fuck up,” he muttered. “Say what you want about me. Leave my family out of it.”

Vivi gave a small shrug.

“If you insist.”

A few seconds passed.

Blake looked back at the assignment sheet.

“For the record, I've carried group projects before.”

“I'm sure.”

The way she said it made it clear she didn't believe him.

The classroom buzzed around them as other groups started talking.

“So what's the plan?" Blake asked.

“I'll make an outline tonight.”

“And what do I do?”

“Read it.”

“That 's it?”

“Also you should start reading Romeo and Juliet. Oh, and if you study a bit the baroque traits, maybe you’ll be helpful” she added offhandedly.

Silence settled between them and then the bell rang.

Chairs scraped across the floor as students packed up.

Vivi slipped the assignment sheet into her folder.

“I'll email you tonight.”

“I'll check it.”

“You better.”

Then she walked away without another word.