Flora’s Guide to a Second Chance at Love and Life

The atmosphere in the conference room was so thick with tension you could almost cut it with a knife. It felt like any second now, the two sides might start swinging at each other over the recent exam results.

But Fiona? She was cool as a cucumber, lost in a game on her phone.

"With that kind of attitude, you expect us to believe you topped the whole school? Who are you kidding? Think knowledge just pours into your brain like water?"

"Well, we don't know if the teachers are all wet, but when we're thirsty, we drink," came the cheeky reply.

With a loud bang, Mr. Anderson, the Class A homeroom teacher, looked like he was about to blow a gasket. In all his years of teaching, he'd never met students this headstrong, refusing to admit they were wrong. It was enough to drive him up the wall.

Mr. Garcia, on the other hand, kept sneaking glances at Fiona. He noticed she hadn't said a word, just sat there as calm as you please. Even Keaton had only spoken up to back Class 19 and then zipped it.

"All right then, if that's how you want it, we'll do this the old-fashioned way. You've got last year's math and Spanish finals right in front of you. Three hours to finish them, and our teachers will mark them right here."

match, she'd already checked out the school's online forum. It was ablaze with posts dragging

recognized a few usernames of folks who used to be tight with Class 19. Now, they'd turned on them. She figured someone had to be stirring the pot because there was no way just a set of grades could spark

you say we have to write doesn't mean

step, crumpled the exam paper into

wasn't about to play ball with that

your teachers say!"

really? And what if

was enough to make

away her phone and nudged Nash, giving him a look that

back in his chair, keeping his

this into a circus."