The back half of Lee's third day trapped under the influence of a cursed game was a lonely one.
Arland had left campus hours ago, and the emptiness of the seat behind him was profoundly noticeable to Lee as he struggled to concentrate on his math test.
He was the last one still working to complete it, and tried not to let the low chatter of the rest of the class distract him as he wrote down his final answer.
Despite the fact that Thomas had helped him understand the formulas better during their group review session a couple days ago, Lee didn’t feel particularly confident about receiving a passing grade.
When Lee stood up to turn in his work, the sound of his chair scraping against the floor made the class fall silent in anticipation. He lowered his gaze to the floor, uneasy being the center of attention.
Mr. Carthorne smiled up at him from his desk as Lee handed over his test. The teacher gave it a quick scan to make sure all the questions had been answered, then announced, “Okay, as promised, I’m ending class early now that everyone’s finished.”
There had only been fifteen minutes left in their final period, but the class still erupted into grateful cheers as if they’d just been given a week's vacation.
Lee was just relieved to have all those eyes off of him.
He went back to his desk to collect his bag, dodging as other boys rushed past in their race to escape the classroom.
Out of the corner of his vision, Lee saw Thomas make his way to the front of the room and start cleaning off the whiteboard; one of his many mundane duties as Class President.
Were there any benefits to Thomas’ position? He always seemed so busy running around doing chores for the teachers.
Lee hesitated to leave as the rest of the classroom emptied out in record time. He hoped Thomas might be in the mood to speak with him today.
Mr. Carthorne got to his classmate first, however, asking him, “Could you do me a favor, Thomas?”
Thomas’ back stiffened as he paused in his erasing, still facing the board, before acquiescing, “Of course.”
“Excellent,” their teacher exclaimed with a clap of his hands. He then gestured to the fresh stack of papers on his desk and explained, “I need you to help me grade these tests. I just remembered I have a meeting this afternoon and I won’t have time to complete them all.”
“I can do that, Sir, ” Thomas said simply.
“Thank you so much, Thomas. I have to go now or I’ll be late,” Mr. Carthorne spoke quickly, jogging toward the door. “You know where my grading materials are!” He called out while leaving in a rush.
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The sound of the door swinging shut echoed throughout the classroom, now vacant aside from the two boys left behind.
Lee’s mouth hung agape; he was in disbelief that he’d just witnessed a teacher foist all his work onto a student. Yes, Thomas was the Class President, but the jobs that came with that position were meant to be small organizational tasks like passing out papers or taking attendance.
Was Thomas actually an unpaid secretary!?
“Why are you still here?” Thomas asked after a few tense moments of silence, returning to cleaning the board.
Lee hesitated, swallowed the many things he actually wanted to say, and instead inquired, “You want some help with the grading?”
A loud thunk sound reverberated through the room as Thomas slammed down a dry eraser harder than he needed to. His back looked rigid and his shoulders were hiked up.
Thomas always seemed vaguely annoyed at the best of times, but Lee was starting to fear that maybe the President just really didn’t care for him.
However, when Thomas turned back around to face him, his expression was neutral. “Why are you offering to help me?” He asked.
At moments like this, Lee would compare navigating conversations with Thomas to the feeling of handling unstable chemical solutions. He found him extremely intimidating.
“I thought, well, it’s not fair for you to always have extra work? I’m sure you’ve got other things you’d rather be doing,” Lee haltingly explained. “I’ve got nothing going on, so I might as well help out if I can, right?”
Thomas pushed his large round glasses further up his nose, taking the time to consider Lee's words.
“Fine,” he eventually conceded.
(+3%) [Affection 23%]
Lee let out a small sigh of relief.
Thomas went over to Mr. Carthorne’s desk and opened up a drawer, pulling out two red pens and a folder. He then picked up the stack of test papers waiting to be graded and carried them over to a desk in the front row.
He sat down and waved his hand toward the desk beside him, indicating Lee should join him. Lee hurried to do so, sliding into the unfamiliar seat as Thomas set half the papers down in front of him.
Lee held back a startled yelp as Thomas grabbed onto the side of his desk and chair and pulled him closer so they were right up against each other. The President then pulled out an answer sheet from the folder and placed it between them.
“This-” Thomas pressed his index finger to a spot on the sheet, “Shows how many points each answer is worth.” Their shoulders were touching, and Lee’s body gave an involuntary shiver that he hoped went unnoticed.
“Just mark a check by the correct answers, cross out the incorrect ones, and tally up the total for the final grade,” Thomas continued, giving no indication he was at all uncomfortable with their proximity. “You got that?”
Lee nodded rapidly, not wanting to speak and risk stuttering out of nervousness. He’d probably never been this close to, well, anyone for a prolonged period of time.
Thomas handed over a red pen and the two got started on grading, working in moderately companionable silence.
Lee was halfway through marking his third test when he noticed that Thomas was using an eraser on the paper next to him. It had Thomas’ name at the top.
Lee did a double take, thinking he might’ve mistaken what he saw, but no. Thomas was grading his own test and he'd just changed an incorrect answer to the correct one.