The Promises We Broke

52

Zeher stared at the paper in her hand with disbelief.

For the third time, she flipped through the pages, tracing each red-circled mistake. She could practically feel them etched into her mind, every careless error, every point lost.

"If anyone has complaints, go directly to the teachers' room," the class captain announced to the class. "The rest of you, submit your copies here."

Zeher's grip on the paper tightened, the edges wrinkling under her fingers. Her results weren't supposed to be out until next week, but some teachers liked to show them early, to give students a chance to check for grading errors. 

Once, she had loved these pre-release sessions. Her family might not have cared much for her grades, but her classmates did. They'd swarm around her desk, comparing their answers with hers, asking her to explain a tricky question. She'd act modest, but inside, she had loved that moment in the spotlight.

Today, though, she could hardly look at the grade stamped on the front: B+ in math.

Across the room, Ayra was grinning as she looked down at her own sheet. She'd gotten an A, and though a minus sign followed it, she didn't seem to care.

It wasn't just the grade that stung; it was the fact that Ayra had somehow scored higher than her. Ayra, who'd spent most of the term doodling in her notebook and watching the clouds pass by. Meanwhile, Zeher had meticulously written down every word, attended every session, and studied tirelessly.

Ayra strolled over, her paper swinging between her fingers. "What'd you get?"

Zeher hugged her own answer sheet closer. "Not telling."

She knew it was pointless to hide it. Next week, the results would be posted on the school board for everyone to see anyway.

Ayra sighed dreamily. "Can't wait for results day. Bare Abbu will actually be proud for once." Every parent-teacher conference, her uncle had heard the same polite remarks from her teachers: Ayra has potential, but she could try harder. 

She'd always dismissed it, knowing her own strengths and limits better than anyone. Although her uncle had never pushed her to be someone she wasn't, even if the rest of the family was effortlessly gifted, a part of her always felt bad for being the reason he would be humbled every meeting.

Zeher's voice was quieter, tinged with frustration. "No one's going to come for me, anyway." With Arzan's recent resignation, she doubted he'd send his assistant again. 

Strange as it was, she almost welcomed the idea—at least she'd be able to face her grades without anyone witnessing her downfall.

"If you want, I could go with you," Ayra offered suddenly as they walked out of the classroom, submitting their sheets in the assigned spot. Zeher was careful to place it face down so Ayra wouldn't be able to peek. 

Zeher scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Right."

"Why not?" Ayra said, frowning slightly, the idea clearly making sense to her. "They only ask for a family member, they never specify an age."

Zeher didn't dignify that with a response. She walked toward the bus stop, glancing back once to give a quick, silent wave.

Zeher hadn't planned on the bus trip today, but the slight chance of seeing Zafran at the café made her ride it. 

He'd mentioned once that he was a regular there, and though she didn't have a swimming class today, she couldn't shake the urge to go. 

Maybe he'd be there, maybe he wouldn't, but the possibility felt worth the risk.