Emma

You walk over to the hot goth girl, and take a seat right next to her. Maybe it will be possible to get even closer with Emma, this way.

The reality is a lot more complicated. Emma looks up at you with her coy smile, but then it's time to take a math test together. You find yourself unable to engage in the kind of banter you were hoping for, since she seems determined to do as good of a job as possible. It becomes stressful, and when it does Emma squeezes so hard she snaps her pencil.

"Whoa," you say, pulling out another. "Here. It's okay."

"I'm not a math person," she growls.

"Trust me, I'm not either," you say. "But this is a benchmark test, and it's not affecting our grade that much. We'll get through it."

"Still sadistic, giving out a test first day, and I know something about sadism," she mumbles.

You help her as best you can. Together, you crack some of the problems, or at least think you do. Bare minimum: you're confident that you haven't lost your high school math knowledge. But you're not sure that working with her has really helped you, you're too busy checking in with her rather than recovering your own skills.

At the end, though, her hand brushes up against yours. "Hey," she whispers. "I don't think I'd be able to do so well on this without you. Seriously."

"And here I thought you didn't have a serious bone in your body," you joke.

She frowns. "Yeah, well...nevermind. It's fine. Forget I said anything."

Wait...what? For a second you almost felt as though you broke through...something. But now it's gone. And the time for the test is over. Mister Ketchup has moved on to talking about the syllabus like any other teacher, and class progresses without event.