Chapter 60
Summer's POV
The day before the exam, I'd spent every waking hour drowning in anxiety and coffee.
Even with a second lifetime's worth of memories, I couldn't escape the knot in my stomach. Being reborn didn't magically erase test anxiety. But as I'd worked through Kieran's notes, the concepts started clicking. Progress. Actual progress. Still, I'd drunk so much coffee my hands trembled constantly. My reward for surviving this? A massive burger with truffle fries and two milkshakes.
Room 309 smelled like old textbooks and floor polish. Morning sunlight cut sharp lines across the desks. Ms. Thompson stood at the front, reading exam rules in her stern voice. The room felt heavy, tense.
Some kids had already given up—heads down, eyes closed. Others sat rigid, staring at their test booklets like they might explode.
I found seat 28. My palms immediately started sweating.
Kieran was already there at seat 36, a few rows ahead of me, near the window. Grey hoodie, calm expression, pencil loose in his left hand. His right hand hidden beneath the desk.
I couldn't stop staring.
He glanced up. Our eyes met for half a second and my heart flipped. His ears turned pink. He looked away first, and I pretended to organize my pencils.
Behind me, two seats back, I heard a chair scrape. Someone positioning for a better view.
"You may begin," Ms. Thompson announced.
Pages flipped. I took a deep breath and opened my test booklet.
The first section was harder than expected, but as I worked through the problems, I realized something: Kieran had taught me almost all of this. The formulas he'd circled, the shortcuts he'd written—they were all here. My hands stopped shaking.
That's when I noticed it.
Kieran's Scantron sat on the right edge of his desk, held by a white eraser but completely visible. He wasn't covering it. If I tilted my head slightly, I could see every bubble. A, B, C, D.
My breath caught.
This wasn't an accident. Kieran was too careful. He'd positioned his answer sheet exactly where I could see it.
He was giving me the answers.
My eyes stung. I thought about yesterday, about the cookies, about the way he'd said, "You're smarter than you think." This was his way of responding. His way of protecting me.
But I couldn't do it.
Not because of pride or fear. Because I wanted him to see that I'd actually learned something. That his time hadn't been wasted on me.
So I worked through problem fourteen myself, step by step, the way he'd taught me.
That's when I noticed the guy behind me leaning way too far right, craning to see Kieran's answers.
My stomach clenched.
I shifted in my seat, blocking his view. Let my hair fall like a curtain. The cheater made a frustrated sound. His chair scraped as he tried a different angle.
I moved with him. He leaned left. I adjusted. He sat taller. I bent lower.
"Miss Hayes."
Ms. Thompson's voice cut across the room like ice.
I froze, slowly meeting her gaze. She stood at the front, arms crossed, eyebrows raised.
"Eyes on your own paper, please," she said crisply. "And sit properly. This is not yoga class."
Heat flooded my face. "Yes, ma'am."
Behind me, that jerk made a satisfied sound. Ms. Thompson's gaze swept the room before returning to her desk, but I felt her watching me now.
I didn't dare look at Kieran. My face burned—not from getting caught, but from failing to protect him properly.
I focused back on my test, but kept my body angled slightly, just enough to make it harder for the guy behind me without being obvious. My neck started to ache, but I maintained it anyway.
When I finished multiple choice, I stretched carefully, rolling my shoulders. The movement was genuine, but I used it to glance back.
The cheater had his head down, looking frustrated. Good.
My eyes drifted forward to Kieran.
He was looking right at me.
His expression was complicated—watchful, searching. When our eyes met, he didn't look away. Instead, the corner of his mouth lifted. Barely. But real.
My face went hot again, but this time it felt like sunlight instead of shame.
I spun back around, heart pounding. My hands shook as I picked up my pencil for the free-response section, but it was a different kind of trembling now.
The exam wasn't over yet. Sunlight crept across the room, warming my neck. The room settled into focused quiet, broken only by pencils scratching.
I started on the free-response questions, and I couldn't stop smiling.
From somewhere ahead of me, I could hear the steady rhythm of Kieran's pencil on paper. His answer sheet stayed exactly where it was, visible and vulnerable, like a quiet invitation.
And I understood.
This was his way of protecting me. Of saying he cared. Of telling me I wasn't alone.
I pressed my pencil to the page and kept writing, my smile growing wider.
Because for the first time in either of my lives, I was choosing to earn something myself.