"What a freak! She doesn't belong with the rest of us!"
The vicious speculation and insults crashed over me like a tidal wave, dragging me under.
The homeroom teacher opened his mouth to say something, but the wall of voices drowned him out completely.
I looked at their faces, one after another, twisted with rage. I looked at Loretta, nestled in Henry's arms, wearing a smug little smile. My heart went cold.
I couldn't save them.
I'd already tried in my last life.
I sank back into my seat. Under the glare of the entire class, I lowered my head and didn't say another word.
The moment we arrived at the testing center, our class became the spectacle of the entire venue.
Surrounded by a sea of somber black, white, and gray, our group of students clutching pink pens stuck out like a pack of influencers who'd wandered into a board meeting.
The athletics captain from the class next door was a blunt guy. He stared at us, confusion plastered across his face, and turned to Henry.
"Dude, is your class doing some kind of performance art? You're seriously using those things on the SATs?"
He pointed at the pink pen in Henry's hand like he was looking at some exotic species.
That one sentence lit the fuse.
Loretta's eyes turned red on cue. She ducked behind Henry, clutching the hem of his shirt, and started whimpering through pitiful little sobs.
"Waaah... Henry, does he... does he think baby's gift is a joke? Baby put her whole heart into it... and he's laughing at her..."
"The hell did you just say?"
Henry exploded. He shoved the athletics captain hard. "What pens our class uses is none of your damn business. Who asked you?"
The captain stumbled back and fired up in return.
"Are you out of your mind? I was trying to do you a favor! When the scanner can't read your answers, don't come crying about it!"
"Nobody needs your advice."
Our classmates closed in around him, united in fury.
"Exactly. We want to use them. What's it to you?"
"Clearly never seen anything beyond his own backyard. He wouldn't understand our class tradition!"
A fight was about to break out when teachers rushed over and pulled the two sides apart.
The students from the other class looked at us like we were certifiably insane, shook their heads, and walked away.
But our classmates rallied from that little skirmish feeling more united than ever, morale sky-high, as if they'd just defended some sacred honor.
I leaned against the wall and watched it all with cold detachment.
At the security checkpoint, the proctor in charge spotted the pink pens in our hands. His brow furrowed into a tight knot.
He picked one up, turned to Henry, and made one last attempt.
"I'm going to say this one more time. Aside from pencils for the answer sheet, all written responses must be in black ink. Otherwise, you bear the consequences."
"Yeah, yeah, we heard you!"
Henry waved him off impatiently and snatched the pen back. "Our whole class is using these. If anything goes wrong, that's on us."
He said it with iron conviction. Behind him, the rest of the class puffed out their chests, every one of them wearing the expression of someone making a noble stand.
The proctor looked at this wall of students who refused to listen to reason, shook his head in resignation, and waved them through.
I was last in line. I passed through security in silence.
I watched them stride into the exam hall one by one, chins high, brimming with confidence. They looked like sacrificial offerings marching toward the altar, cheering for the privilege of climbing onto it.
The bell for the first exam, English, rang out like a starting pistol, sounding simultaneously across every testing center in the city.
In my exam room, the test-takers came from different schools. The atmosphere was solemn.
I unzipped the inner pocket of my school jacket and calmly pulled out the black ballpoint pen I'd prepared long in advance.
I began my fight.
Halfway through, I glanced up without thinking.
