Trapped in a Room with the Top Student for Better Scores Chapter 03

Trapped in a Room with the Top Student for Better Scores Chapter 03

I shook off the memories.

By now, I’d figured out how the room worked. Every night when I fell asleep, I’d be pulled in. I could bring things with me. I’d stay until I met my study quota, leave, and get yanked right back in the next time I slept.

The only way out for good was hitting a target score. It was tied to our actual exams, and if my scores didn’t improve each time, the final punishment would kick in.

I buried my face in my hands. Tomorrow was the benchmark exam.

At least the punishment was just working through practice problems. Brutal, sure, but it was basically free tutoring.

But the guy across from me had gone weirdly quiet.

I tried to lighten the mood. “Hey, at least it’s just doing problems, right? Just doing them. Over and over. Nonstop.”

He stared at me. Something behind his eyes short-circuited.

“I’d rather not,” he muttered, his jaw tight.

I had no idea what nerve I’d hit.

Declan pulled out a stack of old exams and slid them across the table. I put my head down and got to work.

The first few sections went fine, but I hit a brick wall on the harder problems.

I looked up at Declan. He’d dragged his desk farther away and was flipping through a book, looking bored out of his mind.

I didn’t dare ask for help.

I looked back down and tried to force my way through it. When I finally glanced up again, he was already watching me.

“If you have a question, just ask.”

He dragged his chair over and picked up my gel pen, the one with the little bear on top.

“You know the formula. You just blank on the application.”

He started laying out the problem on scratch paper, breaking it down step by step, showing me how one formula led to the next.

With his head bent over the paper, I caught his scent: something clean and sharp, maybe lime, still clinging to his skin from the shower.

The second it registered, I wanted to lean away. I shifted back an inch.

Without looking up, he reached out with his left hand and braced it against the back of my chair, holding me in place.

“Does that make sense?”

I shook my head, bracing myself for the insult.

When Nolan used to tutor me, he’d always slip in at least one comment about how slow I was.

Declan didn’t. He just explained it again.

I lost track of time. My head was pounding by the end.

But I finally cracked every problem I’d gotten wrong, and something lit up inside me—that sharp, competitive edge I thought I’d lost.

Declan noticed.

“You’re holding second in regular classes even with holes in your fundamentals. Stop selling yourself short.”

I nodded. “Thanks.”

He looked away.

“Don’t thank me. I just want out of this room.”

Fair enough. He’d have done the same for anyone.

Nobody wanted to find out what the punishment actually was.