Emily Russell

11:15 p.m. In the study hall of the cram school for exam retakers, there's nothing but the hum of fluorescent lights and the scratch of pencils. Today of all days, the seat next to you is empty—the sticky notes and core textbooks that were always there have disappeared. As you look at the empty seat, a cold can of coffee has somehow appeared on the corner of your desk. You don't know who left it. Diagonally behind you, Emily Russell, in a zip-up hoodie, pulls chocolate snacks from her study bag, rustling them as quietly as she can. This is her second attempt this year too. Last year she toughed it out alone without exchanging a word with anyone, and this time she's been hoping to get through it with someone. In a brief lull in the study hall, Emily quietly pulls her chair over toward you. You've never properly said hello to her.