Artic stared at the black box in his hand—his brand-new phone. High RAM, crisp graphics, fast response. It had taken weeks of begging, promising to study more, acting like it was for "online classes." Deep down, everyone knew it was for games.
Still, his parents bought it.
And now, he finally had something to show.
He walked into school with a smile he hadn't worn in weeks. His fingers itched to show the phone to the group that sat in the back rows. The cool kids. They laughed loud, wore branded sneakers, knew every inside joke. And one of them—she—was in that group too.
Her name was Emily.
Top of the class. Beautiful in a quiet, kind way. Always helped teachers, shared notes, smiled at everyone. But she was part of that group. Untouchable.
Artic had spent the whole weekend thinking about how to talk to them. Now was his chance.
---
"Hey, uh," Artic stood by the last bench before class started. "I got a new phone. We can play together now, right?"
They didn't look at him for long. One of the guys took the phone from his hand, scrolled through it, nodded.
"Nice," he said, tossing it back. "I'll add you to the group."
And that was it.
No questions. No excitement. No, "What games do you play?"
Just... indifference.
Artic smiled anyway. At least I'm in.
---
The bell rang.
Class started. Biology. Their teacher, Ms. Carter, walked in with a tired face and thick glasses. The board had "Final Revision – Genetics" written on it.
Artic didn't care much. Finals were close, yes. But he was average. Not failing, not topping. Just floating somewhere in the middle.
He took his usual seat near the front—not by choice, but because the back benches were already claimed. He looked behind. The cool group was laughing over something Emily showed them on her phone.
He looked down at his empty notebook.
---
"Artic," Ms. Carter called out suddenly. "What is the difference between genotype and phenotype?"
He blinked. His mind was blank. "Uh…"
She frowned. "You should know this. It was in yesterday's revision."
A few people giggled softly. He felt his ears heat up.
Then her eyes moved. "Blake," she called.
Artic stiffened.
Blake—the loud one. The one who made jokes in the middle of class and never got caught. The one who once tied Artic's shoelaces together during gym. That Blake.
Blake stood up confidently. "Genotype is the genetic makeup. Phenotype is the physical trait."
"Correct," the teacher nodded.
Laughter followed. Artic didn't turn to look, but he heard it.
Blake whispered just loud enough for the row to hear, "At least I don't need a new phone to answer questions."
The group burst out laughing.
Even Emily. Even her.
Artic stared at his blank page.
He didn't smile. He didn't frown. He just… existed.
---
The last bell rang.
That was it.
The final day of school before exams.
No more classes. No more lectures. Just three days, then finals.
Artic walked home alone, bag slung low on his shoulder. The sun was bright, but the air felt heavy. Streets looked the same, but something felt different. Everyone else seemed excited—counting days until the trip, joking about who was going to fail—but for Artic, it was just quiet.
He got home, tossed his bag aside, and lay on his bed.
The first thing he did was check his phone.
The new group chat—"Squad 💀🔥"—was full of messages.
---
Liam: Yo we should go after physics paper
Mason: Bro yes we need a trip fr
Emily: If you guys actually plan it, I'm down :)
Blake: Bet. I'll ask my cousin about that lakehouse
Liam: Artic u in?
Mason: He doesn't even talk 💀
Emily: lol
Liam: Yo Artic? 👀
---
He stared at the screen for a few seconds.
They didn't care. They still didn't care.
He was just background noise.
Artic didn't reply. He put the phone face-down.
Then picked up his math book.
He flipped it open, trying to focus.
His mind was already drifting—equations turning into white noise.
Just then, a message popped up.
Liam: You busy? Studied already? Let's hop in game.
Artic stared at the chat.
He hadn't studied. Not a page.
But the moment was too tempting.
Artic: Ya ya I did. I'm coming.
He put the book aside.
I'll study at night, he told himself.
He didn't.
---
And like that, the days passed.
He studied in small bursts. Enough to stay above water. Not enough to swim.
The exams came and went—papers with long questions, silent rooms, scribbled answers, aching hands.
And then, finally, the last day.
Artic stood outside the exam hall, heart strangely light. It was over.
He saw her.
Emily. Laughing with her friends, phone in hand, the sun hitting her hair just right.
He hesitated, then walked up.
"Hey," he said.
She looked up, smiling politely. "Oh, hey. You done?"
"Yeah," he nodded. "Hey, um… your Instagram. It's private, right?"
She tilted her head slightly. "Yeah, why?"
"Can I follow you?"
There was a pause.
Then she smiled again. "Sure."
She pulled out her phone, searched, and handed it to him.
Artic entered his account.
"Got it," she said. "I'll accept it."
He smiled, small and awkward.
"Cool. Thanks."
---
He walked away..