❝ Oh, right. I wouldn't want to be lumped in with an overachieving, straight-A student whose sense of self-worth is tied to social approval and external validation. Now, that would be a tragedy. ❞
In which overachieving Harvard-bound Isabelle Grigio...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
When Isabelle bumps into Ben before their World History class, she's surprised to see that his hair is not in the usual I-woke-up-like-this style. And just when she was convinced that he had nothing in his closet but a gray shirt and sweatpants, he's actually wearing a printed t-shirt with jeans today. "You look... different," she observes, taking in his neat appearance.
He groans, ruffling his hair in an attempt to make it look tousled and disheveled. "Since you trimmed my nails, I think it was a slippery slope from there. April insisted that I also fix my hair and wear something that's not gray or black today." Then, something like realization dawns on him, and he eyes her suspiciously. "Are you in some sort of cahoots with her?"
She resists the urge to roll her eyes, putting a hand on her hip, and she deadpans, "Yes, because April and I planned everything so you and I could become friends, and I could change everything about you, starting with your nail hygiene."
He pauses. "Uh, I know you're being sarcastic, but I do still need some sort of verbal confirmation to know that you aren't in cahoots."
She scoffs. "Ugh, as if I have the time, Benjamin Morrell."
"Mhm, maybe you can cool it with the sarcasm."
"You cool it with the conspiracy theories," Isabelle retorts. But then, she notices that he is still looking at his reflection on the glass behind her, ruffling his hair and straightening his t-shirt. So, she adds, "Seriously, though, you look... okay. I mean, your t-shirt is borderline offensive and potentially violates the dress code, but at least, it's not another boring, gray t-shirt. And your hair looks good like that, ... objectively speaking."
Ben doesn't say anything in response, but there's a hint of a smile on his lips as he enters the classroom after her.
***
When she arrives in her seat, Estelle, ever the curious one, leans over from her seat and asks in hushed tones. "So, when did you and Ben get so close? I thought you didn't like him? Some people-not me, though-might say that you even hated him."
Estelle doesn't say it with an accusatory tone, but Isabelle feels strangely defensive about it. "No, I didn't say anything like that. Who said that?"
"I mean, it was pretty obvious to everyone that you roll your eyes whenever a teacher catches him sleeping in class." She must have noticed that Isabelle started looking around anxiously because she quickly adds, "Uh, I meant 'everyone' as an exaggeration. I think only a few noticed that, so don't worry about it."
Isabelle nods in understanding. "Right, I used to do that. I always thought that I was subtle about that. Anyway, we're not that close either," she clarifies. "A while ago, I was just telling him that his t-shirt violates the dress code."
"Okay, okay," Estelle says, unconvinced. But she doesn't press the matter any further. That's what Isabelle likes about her - she is always curious but never downright nosy. She doesn't forcefully poke her nose in other people's businesses.
