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."

to her phone. During the shouting match, she'd already checked out the school's online forum. It

Class 19. Now, they'd turned on them. She figured someone had to be stirring the pot because there was no way just

say we have to write doesn't mean we'll do

the exam paper into a ball and tossed it to the

came down to writing, Nash wasn't about

teachers say!" Mr. Anderson was about ready to lose

really? And what

nonchalance was enough to make anyone see

Nash, giving him

Fiona. He leaned back in his

not against retaking the test. There's no need to turn this into a circus." Fiona slid her phone over