Tzivy owns me, and like a puppy, I remain hers, exclusively.
Ten minutes left until the global regent. The Byzantine Empire — I don’t know this part. I skim my notes, frantically committing names and dates to memory.
That’s when Tzivy breezes over. “Oh, perfect! I should probably read some of this stuff before the bell.” Tinkling laugh, flick of bangs. “You have such amazing notes.”
“I’m not done here, Tziv.”
Blue eyes roll, the same eyes that view top scores as significant only if they’re effortless. “Oh, come on. I bet you can recite your notes backwards by now.”
My cheeks are on fire. True, I’d studied for hours. It’s a lot of material, and I want to do well. So I fried my brain cramming, while Tzivy allegedly partied, and now my limp hands relinquish my notes to her. It’s only fair. She’s my best friend.
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