Back in Class 1-A, something... had shifted.
I don't know if it was the soccer ball stunt, or Sofia loudly whispering my name three times in the hallway like it would summon me, or the fact that I helped a girl pick up her books and she blushed so hard she tripped over a chair—but the energy?
It was different now.
"Jay, right?"
"I love your voice. Do you sing?"
"Are you seriously not dating anyone?"
"Wait, did you just wink at me? Oh my god—YOU DID."
I did. Accidentally. I was blinking. I swear.
Tyler leaned over to me, grinning like he'd just won a bet. "You broke the school already. We've been here six hours."
"I didn't do anything," I whispered back, smiling anyway.
"Oh, don't play innocent," Sofia called from two rows ahead. "You practically breathe sparkles."
I heard Luna actually giggle. It sounded like the end credits of a fantasy movie.
Emma, two seats away, looked up from her clipboard with a flat expression. "This is getting out of hand."
"You're just mad you're not the most talked-about person in the class anymore," Sofia shot back playfully.
Emma didn't respond, but I saw her knuckles tighten slightly on her pen. Noted.
Yuki didn't say a word. But I could feel her glance—sharp and quick—like she was making mental notes on me for later. Probably cross-referencing them with national security databases or something.
Mr. Brooks finally groaned from the front of the class. "Unless the rest of you are also developing minor celebrity status, I suggest you shut up and open your books."
After School –
The ride home was quiet. Amaya and Tyler talked the whole way, but I mostly nodded along, my mind still stuck in... everything.
Class. Whispers. Laughs. That girl who asked for my phone number then tripped over her own shoe when I said "sure."
Now I lay on my bed again, arms behind my head, eyes on the same ceiling fan as last night.
Except now... I wasn't anxious.
I was smiling.
Today was insane. In the best way.
I made friends.
I made an impression.
I may or may not have charmed half the female population of 1-A without trying.
And for the first time in a long time, I wasn't a "Markov."
I was just... me.
Jay.
Somehow at the center of attention—and kind of loving it.
The Next Morning – Class Rep Announcement
"I bet five people run for class rep," Tyler said, still brushing his teeth as he walked into the hallway.
"Three," I said. "One serious candidate. One wild card. One who thinks it's a prank."
"I'm running," he said through foam. "For chaos."
"You'd get disqualified before the ballot was printed."
Amaya joined us at the door, adjusting her bag. "Emma Sinclair's definitely running. You can feel the ambition rolling off her."
"Yeah," I nodded. "I think the clipboard is glued to her hand."
Back at school, as we stepped into 1-A, a notice was already written on the board:
CLASS 1-A: NOMINATIONS OPEN. CLASS REP VOTE TODAY.
Mr. Brooks looked especially done this morning.
"If you want to rule this chaotic kingdom, write your name on the board by break," he muttered, sipping from his mug that now read: "I Teach, Therefore I Need Therapy."
By the time homeroom ended, the board had three names:
Emma Sinclair – neatly written in capital letters, underlined twice.
Miles Everett – next to a checklist of reasons why he's "better than everyone else."
Noah Carter – in glitter pen. With a heart over the "I."
Tyler pointed at the list. "What happens if I add you to the list?"
"Don't," I warned. "Seriously."
He smirked. "Too late."
And just like that, I watched in slow motion as he marched up to the board and scrawled:
Jay Markov
Cue chaos.
"HE'S RUNNING?"
"I knew he was perfect—he's also a leader??"
"I'll vote for him and also offer my soul."
Emma snapped her pen in half.
Miles looked ready to file a lawsuit.
Noah held up his glitter pen again. "Joint campaign?"
Yuki turned to me. For the first time all day, she spoke directly to me.
"…You didn't put your name there."
"I didn't," I said, deadpan. "Blame my idiot best friend."
She looked at me for a second longer.
Then said, "…Interesting."
I leaned over my desk, forehead lightly thudding against the wood as I mumbled, "I'm going to kill Tyler."
Amaya calmly passed me a fresh eraser. "At least let it be poetic. I'll write the eulogy."
"I can't give a campaign speech," I groaned. "I didn't even want to run!"
Tyler, sitting ahead of me, clearly unbothered, gave me a double thumbs-up and whispered, "You're welcome."
Sofia had already posted a poll in the class group chat:
Who's the hottest AND most class rep material?
Jay
Jay
Jay
Noah
Emma (Stop judging me)
Miles (If he brings free pens)
Mr. Brooks, exhausted already, stood at the front.
"Alright, future student politicians—line up, give your pitch, and try not to destroy my faith in education."
Emma was already halfway up before he finished the sentence.
She stepped to the front, back straight, voice sharp.
Emma Sinclair:
"If elected, I will ensure this class functions efficiently, stays organized, and is represented in all student council matters. I will also implement a rotating study group schedule and submit our budget plans two weeks early."
Applause. Respectful. Impressed. Terrified.
Next came—
Miles Everett.
"My qualifications are simple. Highest scores in orientation. Background in competitive debate. And, frankly, I already know I'm the best candidate here."
No one clapped.
One guy coughed awkwardly. Amaya wrote "ego ≠ leadership" in the margins of her notebook.
Then came—
Noah Carter.
Waltzing to the front like he was accepting an Oscar. Literally bowed.
"I may not have a plan," he said dramatically, "but I have passion. I believe in chaos. I believe in art. I believe in the emotional power of interpretive dance!"
He struck a pose.
A few kids clapped.
Tyler was crying from laughter.
And then…
Mr. Brooks looked at me.
"Markov. You're up."
I stood slowly. Every eye on me.
"I didn't sign up for this," I said, casually. "But my friend did it for me. So, blame him when this speech turns out to be... not a speech."
A few chuckles.
"I'm not promising free snacks, fancy reforms, or twenty-point action plans."
Emma crossed her arms.
"I'm just here to be a good person. I like helping people. I don't like drama. And I think we can have fun this year without making each other miserable."
Pause. Murmurs. Eyes locked on me.
"And if I do win... first agenda: convince Mr. Brooks to stop using chalk. That squeak is a crime."
Mr. Brooks raised an eyebrow. "…Fair."
The room burst out laughing.
Someone shouted, "WE LOVE YOU, JAY!"
Sofia yelled, "SHUT UP AND TAKE MY VOTE!"
Even Noah clapped.
I sat down, heart weirdly pounding.
"Congratulations," Amaya whispered. "You just accidentally ran a perfect campaign."
"I hate it here," I said, grinning.