TBBS 23

Chapter 23…

Because Christina was wearing an extravagant dress you’d expect to see only at the Guldbagge Awards (*Guldbagge: Swedish film awards), along with a three-layer pearl necklace.

“Miss Holm, did you have a good weekend?”

Christina greeted the teacher with a voice full of some inexplicable pride.

“I had dinner with my soon-to-be family.”

The dorm teacher, despite Christina’s unnecessarily secretive-sounding answer, didn’t show curiosity—only a graceful smile.

“Oh, family… sounds like you ate at quite a nice place.”

“Not really.”

But Christina swept her long blonde hair to the side like a character from a musical film and added a piece of TMI that no one but Karin would have wanted to hear.

“Well, today, I got this necklace as a gift from the woman who will be my future mother.”

Future mother… if that means the same as I think—her mother-in-law—then this is the first time I’ve heard anyone in Stockholm say it in such a strange way.

Isn’t that the kind of line you’d only hear in a K-drama set in the 90s?

But wait—didn’t Erik say his parents wouldn’t be back from their business trip until tonight…? Did their schedule change?

“Yes, it’s a beautiful necklace. But don’t you think it would be a bit uncomfortable to eat while wearing it?”

Of course, Christina pretended not to notice the teacher’s tactful hint.

“Not at all, Miss Holm.”

And then, of all places, she came and sat gracefully right next to me.

“My future mother said she’d love for me to wear necklaces often.”

Then she turned to me with a beaming smile and asked:

“What do you think, Vivi? Does it suit me?”

Without spending a single coin, I answered faster than a voicemail system.

“Yeah, it really suits you. I’d believe you were born with it on.”

Worried it might sound sarcastic, I clasped my hands and gave my sweetest expression.

But then I spotted someone passing outside the door and shot to my feet.

“I’ll head off first, Christina. Looks like Olivia just arrived.”

That much of a response should be enough. A perfect excuse, too.

“Olivia, you’re finally here?”

I hurried after Olivia, but when she heard me call her name, she only paused for a moment and said with a tired face:

“Hey, Vivi. I’m going to rest. I’m a little tired.”

Was it just me, or did her warm pumpkin-colored eyes look slightly bloodshot?

On Parent’s Day, she had looked so close and happy with her family… could something else have happened?

But seeing her door shut tight left me unsure of what to do.

Maybe I still hadn’t fully become part of her life…

In the end, I turned back and returned to my room.

Monday, during math class.

I received my first quiz score sheet at Brängel and froze in shock.

75%

The number, written in red in the corner of my test paper, didn’t even feel real. It meant my accuracy rate was only 75%.

A quick calculation told me that was a Level 5. Even if math wasn’t my most important subject, a 5 was bad.

If I wanted to get into the Ivy League, I needed at least a Level 6 in the core subjects.

Then someone stood up and complained irritably.

“What did I get wrong? I was sure I nailed this test!”

It was Karin.

I glanced at the 95% printed in the corner of her paper, which she was proudly holding up, and quietly folded mine in half.

At 95%, of course she got the top grade: Level 7.

I looked down at my folded paper and swallowed a sigh.

To be honest, since I transferred here from a public school, the HL classes and TOK (*Theory of Knowledge, a mandatory IB subject) were already so much harder than I was used to.

And now I had only scored a Level 5—even in math, which wasn’t even HL.

If this continued, it wouldn’t be tuition or distance that kept me out of the Ivy League. It would simply be my grades.

If that happened, then what meaning would there be in enduring all the stares I had to put up with here at Brängel?

“Anyone who scored below 80% may apply for a retest, if you wish.”

Luckily, in the IB curriculum, grades are absolute, not relative.

So I signed up for the retest right away. But honestly, I had no confidence I’d score higher next time.

Back at Järva, I’d always gotten papers back marked with A’s without any real effort. Now, I had no idea where to even start to bridge this gap.

Nervously, I glanced at Olivia beside me, but she still looked as drained as she had last night.

On top of that, the number openly written on her test paper—she didn’t even bother to cover it—was 100%.

In the end, feeling like a complete fool, I shoved my paper into my bag.

I dragged myself through the rest of the day’s classes like a failing student and then headed to my library shift.

During a short break, I was Googling things like “how to be good at math” when a voice suddenly popped up.

“Honeybee, something on your mind?”

I looked up—it was Erik.

He tilted his head at my dazed expression.

“Hm, I thought the slightly awkward issue between us had been smoothed over a bit over the weekend. Was I imagining things?”

I finally snapped back to myself and flipped my phone face-down.

“Hey, Erik. Sorry. It’s just a personal issue.”

He looked at me like he was ready to listen to anything I wanted to say.

Then again, since Erik wasn’t in the same math class, maybe I should just tell him.

With a sigh, I admitted:

“I took a math quiz, and my score was awful. Honestly, the classes here at Brängel are way tougher than at public school. I’m just worried about how to handle it going forward.”

“Ah, math…”

Erik hesitated a moment, then said:

“Do you know some kids here get private tutoring?”

“Private tutoring?”

“In the evenings or on weekends, they take extra lessons with their teachers.”

I widened my eyes in shock.

“But that’s illegal!”

Erik shook his head.

“Not in private schools.”

“Seriously?”

He didn’t wait for me to ask more before explaining further:

“The tuition’s pretty steep, but it helps to know things like the test trends.”

“Do you go, too?”

“Not yet…”

Erik answered vaguely.

“But since I’m in HL, I might have to eventually. Maybe later this year.”

Ah…

Math was notorious for having an extreme difficulty gap between SL and HL. For Erik to be managing HL on his own meant he was already pretty advanced.

Meanwhile, I couldn’t even keep up with SL. What was I supposed to do?

I sighed again in despair, and Erik asked:

“Want me to pay you back with math lessons?”

“What?”

“For that debt from the cleaning-supplies closet.”

Unbelievable. He was still bringing that up?

“That doesn’t even count. You’ve already helped me plenty of times since then.”

Erik just shrugged casually.

“Helping someone else actually helps you organize things in your own head, you know. Don’t you think so?”

I couldn’t exactly say no.

Back at Järva, I’d always gotten A’s, so plenty of friends had asked me for help.

“Is there any particular part you’re struggling with?”

When Erik asked, I hesitated, then admitted:

“Logarithmic functions. I get the concept, but I can’t apply it well. Graph interpretation is tough too.”

“I’m good with logs. In HL we even do complex numbers and vectors.”

Wow, lucky him.

I was quietly impressed when he suddenly asked:

“How about we just study together here after your shift today? Once the librarian leaves, it’ll just be the two of us anyway.”

Was I the only one worried about the “just the two of us” part…?