Pre-Exam Nerves

Rossi-san had been lying to me without knowing, which meant she was lying to herself too.

It was still speculation on my part. If I had confronted her about it, she would've likely been confused and probably offended with the accusations. For the record, I wasn't hurt nor angry at her for lying.

I needed to figure out how and why she was lying to me, and why I was doing the same to her.

It was Monday of exam week. Nerves were high amongst the students in the shoe lockers. The first midterm exam for first-years held a heavy weight over students and their prospective futures; especially ones who had to surpass expectations. I didn't mind exams, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't feeling nervous as I entered the hallway to class.

I decided to open the window before sitting down so I could stare at the courtyard. Spring was nature's birth. Day by day, I watched the natural life around the concrete structures blossom from the ground to give hope to the students who dreaded coming to this place...like me. I had always been hoping for something, though I believed I wasn't.

I heard my name shouted across the classroom and turned around to see my classmate with heterochromatic hair walking towards me. All the girls in our class swooned over him as he passed, but he didn't greet any of them. He placed his schoolbag on the hook of the desk, sat sideways in his chair, and placed an elbow on my desk.

He wasn't facing me, but in front of him. The breeze from the window behind him blew his orange and red hair like a campfire's flame.
"G'morn'n," he greeted.
That was the first time he spoke to me after last week's silence. He had gotten better at saying my family name, despite me never having to correct him.

I greeted him back like I always did if he initiated the interaction. However, I decided to push myself a bit further, with a mental warning.
I stammered, "A-Are you nervous for the upcomin' exams?"

He tilted his head towards me, his lips parted to show his teeth in a broad smile. I never noticed this before, but he had a dimple on his right side; I could only assume the same was on his left.
"Ehehe," he chuckled.
Laughing was common for him in the classroom, but not because of me. I didn't see what reason there was to laugh about, but he seemed happy about it.
"People think I'm too cool t'get nervous, but yeah, I do. Just until the exam starts, then I start hope'n for the best. There's too much pressure for exams nowadays, which is why I always tell people they did good even if they failed. Their smiles show their success."

His eyes met mine. His pupils were a reddish brown like the center of a coreopsis flower, with the irises being the yellowish ring around it. Just like its meaning, his words and eyes sprouted cheerfulness for those around them.

What? I may've been doing some research on flowers over the weekend.

There was nothing for me to gain by asking him that question, yet I felt satisfied when he answered.

For our classes, the teacher reviewed the materials of the exams, and we studied in pairs or on our own. Students paired with others from the same club or friend circle. I studied on my own, by choice, because I liked going at my own pace without distractions, kind of like the garden girl. 

At the end of school, my classmate and I exchanged farewells, acknowledging the hard work we put into our studies. I left the classroom to meet Rossi-san at the garden. We still had only an hour, but I figured that was enough time to try and get some kind of information.

I arrived at my spot, indicated by the calendar. A part of my mind envisioned how the girl placed it down, whether she gently planted it on the grass, or dropped it from her side of the hedge. Either way, it was funny to think about, for a brief moment. I opened the calendar to the butterfly weed page and read its meaning again.

Rossi-san initiated the conversation.
"Are you sitting? I want to stand up. I also want to use my request I banked the other day."

"It's rare for you to ask before actin' on your own. Yes, I'm seated."

"I'll have you know, I'm a very considerate person. I'm standing now, can you turn to page 107, please?"

As asked, I looked at the bottom of the page to work out where I was. Surprisingly enough, I was already there. She wanted me to read the butterfly weed page.
"Was that your request? To turn to this page? I have to say, quite a borin' request."

"What?" she exclaimed. "Th-That wasn't it, so it doesn't count."
She began pacing back and forth. Because of that, she increased her volume, and I would have to too.
"Anyways, the page you're on is my favorite flower of all time. My real request is that I want you to make a poem about it."

I responded to her with a sigh, which she was expecting.
"Is that really what you want to use your request for? Didn't I tell you I wouldn't do this?"

"Mhm! Definitely! Plus, I'll get more from the future games I win at. You'll do it."

"You'd be surprised at how competitive I can get when I care enough. I'm not doin' it."

"Ooh, really? Fufu. I'd like to see that side of you. Fine, I get to keep my request."

I didn't continue the conversation any further, but I took her statement into account; it further solidified the speculation I was forming. Above my head, I heard the foliage rustling. There was no way she'd be leaning over to my side. Based on her volume from when she stood up and spoke, she was shorter than I was, so the hedge must've been around her neck area.

She just couldn't sit still.

"Hey, Poet-kun. I should warn you about the next couple of days."
She stumbled to find the right words.
"I-I might be in a, sort of, state of panic, due to the exams. A-Ah, but, but remember that you...don't have to do anything about it. Y-You being there is enough to help me while also doing what you wanted and not meeting. Win-win."

As I listened, something clicked: She didn't like our promise.

Her pacing stopped, and she returned to her seat.
With a decrease of volume, she asked, "Poet-kun, how do you handle test anxiety?"

I didn't answer immediately, having to think about my method of dealing with it.
"I do feel some levels of anxiety, but obviously not as severe as yours. I'm not on a pedestal for my intellect like you are, but like you, I don't want to fail expectations either, even if they're low to begin with."
I closed the calendar and placed it to my side. My hands clasped over my stomach as I closed my eyes and imagined myself in a testing room.
"Before the tests begin, I'll be anxious. But as soon as I sit down with the sheet in front of me, I know there's no point in stressin' anymore, because it's exasperatin' and tiresome – more so than the test itself. There's nothin' I can do to avoid it, so why bother frettin' when I can just look forward to finishin' instead, right?"

"I'd love to be like that," she said somberly.

"You can try."

She mused, "I think it might be difficult to change approaches."

"Well, you weren't always like this, right? When did that change, how were you with tests before the anxiety?"

"Wow, look at you acting like a therapist. Maybe I'll have to start paying you for sessions now."

"That's what you basically use me for. You should start payin' too, I'll take fifteen percent of your weekly allowance."

"How did you know I have a weekly allowance?"

"I didn't...until now. I'll make it twenty percent now. Bein' a therapist isn't cheap."

She murmured something that she probably intended to be lost in the hedge before reaching my ears. However, my ears twitched as she spoke, and I listened carefully to make out what she said,
"Is that all you'll be?"

I wanted to ask what she meant by that, but she probably didn't know either, consciously. It was intended for me to decipher on my own. Along with many things she said, I was supposed to work out what they meant.

I asked her to tell me how she was before the anxiety, not because it would help her express herself more, but because it would help me solve another puzzle. Her words weren't telling me she didn't want a friend to express to, her expressions were. Her expressions were the basis of her lies, and I needed to know when they started.