Arnold Palmer found his name at the top of the board.
Again.
10As. 1B. Grade average: 98%
He stared at the scoreboard, eyes fixed on his result as students swarmed around him. Not to check their grades. Not to congratulate him. No. They were more interested in getting the perfect selfies.
"Hey, make sure the logo on my watch is showing. Shit's expensive."
"Yo, everyone say finalist!" a student holding a phone, poised to take pictures, hollered above the noise, shoving him out of the way.
He staggered a few steps backward but caught himself before he could crash into the next student. Adjusting the stack of books in his hand, he turned and started in the direction of his class.
"Oh, wow. Top of your faculty as usual," a familiar voice chimed behind him.
He took in a deep breath, reaching within him for the pride and joy he was supposed to feel, and found nothing.
"Shouldn't you be in class?"
"Ugh, Arnold, don't be like that. We should celebrate your smarts." His sister poked him playfully in the hand, hoping it would draw a smile from him. It didn't. "You know, one day, those high scores are going to get you an award. They'd call you to the stage, hand you a cheque this big—" She outstretched her hands, almost hitting a passing student. The senior glared at her, but Zendaya didn't seem to notice.
Arnold sighed. "Come on."
He grabbed his sister by the arm, leading her down the hall. She shrugged out of his grip.
"...then you'd have the numbers. You'd be rich. So rich that they'd just have to make a monument in your honor."
"Zendaya."
"You'd buy us a house so big it'll make the president's look like a doll in comparison."
"Zendaya."
People were beginning to stare now. Whispers and snickers echoed around them. How Zendaya remained oblivious, Arnold didn't know. It seemed to be a superpower of hers.
"So yeah, we should celebrate, brother. I'm sure I can cook up something nice for us," she finally finished, pausing to stand in front of him.
"I already have plans with Tasha."
Her face fell, and Arnold regretted his words immediately. There were only a handful of people he cared about deeply, his sister was certainly one of them.
He forced on a smile to try to brighten back the mood he'd just dampened. "Um, I mean, it's kinda our one year anniversary, you know ...but I'm sure Tasha wouldn't mind us making it a family dinner instead."
"Family?"
Arnold pinched the bridge of his nose. "Here we go."
"Tasha isn't family. Arya, yes. Tasha, no. She's always hanging out with you whenever she wants a favour. She'd rather go to a party with your fancy coursemates, than sleepover at our place. Same way she's never even paid you a visit once at home and we both know why. So when the hell did she become family?"
"She's my girlfriend, Zen."
Zendaya rolled her eyes so hard, if they could go all the way to her eyebrows, they would have.
"You know what? Do whatever makes you happy. I'll see you after lectures."
She brushed past him, clutching the straps of her bag that had been stitched so many times at the edges as if they might break if she let go.
Arnold didn't bother stopping her. If anything, he was relieved to watch her return to class rather than nagging him about his life choices.
He stood there for a moment longer, watching his sister disappear among the crowd of students, her words replaying in his mind. If only he could be just as optimistic, but Arnold was familiar with the way things worked in the world. He was used to none of it mattering to anyone other than his sister, and he couldn't help but acknowledge that it hurt a whole lot more than he'd like to admit.
He took in a deep breath, snapping himself out of his thoughts as he turned to go to class, only to bump into someone.
"Watch it, nerd," Aaron sneered, stepping back and sizing him up.
"One day those high scores would get you an award," one of Aaron's friends mocked from behind. "They'll give you an award this big…big like the damn whitehouse—girl, be so for real."
Arnold's jaw tightened. What he'd been trying to avoid was happening right in front of him, and suddenly he didn't know what to say that wouldn't make this matter escalate. Before he could think of a response, Aaron grabbed the worn-out collar of the only good shirt Zendaya had saved up to buy him.
"Filth like you shouldn't get too cocky because of some brat's praise. Stay in your lane, scholarship boy. Don't start acting like you belong up here."
Arnold's sweaty palm tightened around the edges of his books. "She's not some brat. She's my baby sister."
Heads turned, whispers floated from every direction, phones raised as cameras aimed, like the whole hallway had paused to watch.
"Brat, baby sister, bloody fresher—potato, potato—know your place." Aaron let go of him, shoving him hard against the chest that Arnold lost his footing.
Snickers and murmurs threaded through the passing students.
"While you're at it, talk some sense into that sister of yours. She's already a joke around campus. People like her don't last long around here, especially not with your kind of status. So either you keep her in line… or I will."
"Touch her and see what happens."
Aaron was on him in an instant, his fist crashing into Arnold's face before he could react.
"Palmer! Donovan! Cut it out!"
A hand wrapped around Aaron's midsection, yanking him off Arnold. "What the hell, Palmer? Why're you always getting into fights?"
A burning heat flared in Arnold's chest, but the sting on his lips and the lingering ache from Aaron's shove kept his words trapped. He lay there for a moment, vision blurry, staring at the ceiling, ignoring the laughter and the flashes of phones aimed at him.
"You want to get yourself expelled?" The lecturer's voice cut through the chaos. It took Arnold a second to realize the question was directed at him. "Don't forget you're here on scholarship. Act like it."
Arnold picked himself up, groaning as he got into a sitting position, his books scattered all over the floor. A soft, manicured hand appeared in front of him. He froze. He'd recognize that hand anywhere. Tasha.
He sprang to his feet, brushing dust from his clothes, though the embarrassment clung stubbornly.
"Hey, babe." He stepped forward to press a kiss to her lips, but she turned at the last moment, offering her cheek instead. He kissed it anyway. "You good?"
"I should be asking you, Arnold." She took in his disheveled appearance; rumpled shirt, scattered books, bursted lip. "We should head for classes or we'll be late."
He nodded, pushing down the sting from her earlier rejection, and bent to gather his books while she waited, offering no help.
The walk to class had never been this quiet, or this agonizing, for Arnold. He adjusted his books to one hand as he shoved the other into his pants pocket, clearing his throat.
"Um, I almost forgot… happy anniversary, babe."
Tasha stopped walking. She whirled around to face him, her expression too neutral for Arnold to read.
"That's it?"
The tone, the arch of her eyebrow—Arnold knew he'd definitely done something wrong.
"What? No. I was planning on inviting you over for a date, and maybe….. ask you to spend the night for the first time at my place."
She studied him for a moment. "So… a makeshift date instead of a real one?"
Okay. Now he knew he'd messed up. He closed the distance between them, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
"I know it doesn't sound like much for now, but I promise it'll be worth it."
"And when would we get to go on an actual date, Arnold?"
He frowned. She was normally not this cold.
"Babe… is something wrong?"
She sucked in a breath, taking a step back from him. "Yeah, we need to talk, Arnold. I can't … I can't do this anymore."
For the first time, Arnold felt the weight of the stares of the other students on him.
"Tasha, could we—"
"I'm breaking up with you."
His spine went rigid.
She looked away as she continued, each word cracking his chest clean open.
"I can't keep pretending your future is going somewhere. It's starting to feel more like pity than love." Her eyes flicked up to meet his, holding his gaze this time. "And I think it has for a while now."