Bella’s hands were shaking.
She looked around.
Students were everywhere. So were reviewing notes, flipping through flashcards, whispering formulas to themselves. Others were chatting, heads bent together, laughing at sothing on soone’s phone. A girl two rows over was braiding her friend’s hair, her fingers moving quickly and deftly. A boy near the window was staring out at the campus, his expression distant, maybe nervous, maybe bored.
Bella watched them, fascinated.
This was what she had missed. This was what she had never had. The nervous energy before an exam, the quiet camaraderie, the shared experience of being young and scared and hopeful all at once.
She had studied alone, in her room, with no one to compare notes with, no one to whisper good luck, no one to hold her hand when she was scared.
A boy in the row behind her dropped his pencil, and it rolled under her desk. She bent down, picked it up, and handed it back to him.
"Thanks," he whispered, his ears red.
"No problem," she whispered back.
She turned back to her computer.
The clock on the wall ticked. Five minutes. Four.
The invigilator walked to the front of the room, tapping a microphone, her voice echoing through the hall.
"Everyone, please take your seats. The exam will begin shortly."
The chatter died down. Students hurried to their desks, shuffling papers, clicking pens, settling into chairs.
Bella took a breath.
She could do this. She had studied for this. She knew this material.
She could take a placent exam.
The clock hit zero.
"Begin," the invigilator said.
The screens flickered to life. The questions appeared.
And Bella started.
The exam hall had gone quiet.
Not the calm, focused quiet of students deep in concentration. The other kind. The tense, heavy quiet of people realizing they were in over their heads.
A boy two rows ahead of Bella let out a low groan, his head falling into his hands. Soone behind her muttered sothing under their breath, a curse or a prayer. Across the aisle, a girl with glasses was staring at her screen like it had personally betrayed her.
The questions were hard. Much harder than the past papers. Much harder than anyone had prepared for.
Bella heard the whispers.
"This isn’t what I studied."
"Where did this even co from?"
"I’m going to fail. I’m actually going to fail."
She felt sorry for them. She did. But she couldn’t focus on that now.
She looked at her screen, and a slow, wide smile spread across her face.
The questions were not hard. They were interesting. Challenging, yes, but in the way a good puzzle was challenging, the kind that made you think, that made you dig deep, that rewarded you for really understanding instead of just morizing.
She read the first question. Her fingers moved to the keyboard. She typed her answer without hesitation.
Second question. Sa thing. Third. Fourth.
She didn’t use the scratch paper. She didn’t need it. She didn’t even glance at the pencil beside her.
Her mind was faster than her hands. The answers ca to her like water flowing downhill, natural and effortless.
The student beside her, a young man with a nervous twitch and a sweat stained collar, glanced over at her screen. His eyes widened. He watched her read a question, select an answer, and move to the next. Read. Select. Next. Read. Select. Next.
Her pace was relentless and confident.
He thought she was guessing. She had to be guessing. No one could answer that fast. No one could be that sure.
He turned back to his own screen, defeated, and stared at a question he didn’t understand.
Bella didn’t notice him. She was in her own world now, the world of code and logic and systems that made sense to her in a way people never did.
The questions were not hard. They were fun.
She smiled again and kept going.
After the exam finished, the exam hall emptied slowly. Students trickled out in clusters, so laughing with relief, others staring at the ground like they had already accepted their fate. Bella walked among them, her steps light, her heart lighter.
The sun was warm on her face as she stepped outside, blinking against the brightness. She scanned the crowd, hoping to spot Mira, the kind volunteer with the large glasses and the easy smile. She wanted to thank her again, to tell her the exam went well, to maybe exchange numbers so they could talk again.
But Mira was nowhere to be seen.
Bella felt a small pang of disappointnt, but it faded quickly. She had soone else waiting for her.
She pulled out her phone, about to call Leo, when she looked up and saw it.
The familiar black car, tucked under the shade of a large tree at the edge of the parking lot. The windows were tinted, but she knew who was inside.
Her heart leaped.
She broke into a run, her flats slapping against the pavent, her ponytail bouncing behind her. She yanked open the door, and there he was. Leo, sitting in the backseat, looking at her with those intense gray eyes that always seed to see right through her.
She launched herself at him.
Her arms wrapped around his neck, her body pressed against his, her face buried in his shoulder. He was warm and solid and slled like ho. She squeezed him tight, happier than she had been all day.
"Yay!" she said, pulling back just enough to look at his face. Her brown eyes were sparkling, her cheeks flushed, her smile so wide it almost hurt. "The paper was easier than I expected! I was worried for nothing. For nothing, Leo! All that stress for nothing."
She kissed his forehead. Then his cheek. Then his forehead again, because she couldn’t stop.
Leo’s lips curved into a knowing smirk. The one that said "I told you so" without actually saying it.
"I told you," he said, his voice warm. "You can do well."
Bella bead at him. "I know. But I didn’t believe you until I was actually doing it."
"Maybe next ti you’ll trust ."
"Maybe." She grinned. "No promises."
He shook his head, but he was smiling. Then he reached to the side and pulled out a beautiful brown bag, elegant, with a gold ribbon tied in a neat bow. He held it out to her.
"For doing your best," he said, his voice soft. "My small gift for Bunny."
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