Finding a way back to her!

Becky Armstrong’s world revolved around the sports field. Her relentless training for the upcoming state competition was all she could think about—dodgeball drills, sprint times, coordination routines, you name it. But as her focus on sports sharpened, her performance in other areas began to falter. Namely, math.

In the teacher’s room, Ms. Janjira frowned as she flipped through the stack of graded papers. Becky’s test scores stared back at her, painfully average at best, outright disastrous at worst. It wasn’t like Becky didn’t try—her notebooks were filled with messy attempts at equations—but math didn’t come as naturally to her as sports did.

Ms. Janjira sighed, pulling out the seating chart for Becky’s class. “Something needs to change,” she muttered to herself. After a moment of consideration, she reached for her red pen and started rearranging names. Becky Armstrong was now seated next to Freen Sarocha.

---

When Becky walked into class the next day, she froze as she saw her name written on a sticky note attached to Freen’s desk. Her jaw dropped, and she turned to Ms. Janjira in mock horror. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Becky said, loud enough for the entire class to hear.

Ms. Janjira raised an eyebrow. “Your math scores, Becky. If you want to compete in the state tournament, you need to pass my class first. Freen will help you.”

Becky dramatically leaned against the nearest desk, sighing heavily. “So Freen is my academic babysitter now?”

Freen, already seated and meticulously organizing her notebooks, adjusted her glasses and looked at Becky coolly. “Technically, tutoring doesn’t involve babysitting.”

“Oh, Freen,” Becky said, throwing herself into the seat beside her. “What did you do to deserve this cruel punishment?”

Freen raised an eyebrow. “I’m asking myself the same question.”

The class erupted into laughter as Becky grinned triumphantly. “See? We’re already bonding.”

---

After school, Freen met Becky in the library, notebooks and textbooks laid out like a battle plan. Becky slumped into her chair, eyeing the stack of math problems like they were a mountain she had to climb.

“Start with these equations,” Freen said, her voice steady as she handed Becky a worksheet.

Becky stared at the paper for a moment before whining, “Ugh, why do numbers hate me?”

“They don’t hate you,” Freen replied calmly. “You just don’t understand them.”

“Wow, thanks,” Becky said sarcastically. “You’re really good at motivational speeches, Freen.”

Freen blinked, clearly unamused. “If you spent less time making sarcastic remarks, you’d probably solve the first problem by now.”

Becky chuckled. “You’re such a nerd.”

“And you’re hopeless,” Freen countered, though her lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smile.

After an hour of comical bickering and Becky’s exaggerated sighs of frustration, she managed to solve her first equation correctly. Freen nodded approvingly. “Good. Now try the next one.”

Becky groaned, her head hitting the table. “How do you live with numbers all day?”

Freen tilted her head, considering the question. “Numbers are predictable. That’s comforting.”

“You’re such a weirdo,” Becky muttered, though her tone was affectionate. “You know that?”

“Thank you,” Freen replied earnestly, as if Becky’s comment was a genuine compliment.

---

A week into their tutoring sessions, Becky showed up at the library carrying a steaming cup of jasmine tea. Freen looked at her curiously.

“I heard you like jasmine tea,” Becky said, placing the cup next to Freen’s stack of textbooks. “Consider this your payment for dealing with me.”

Freen’s fingers brushed the edge of the cup, her expression softening for a moment. “Thank you.”

Becky grinned. “Don’t get used to it. It’s a one-time thing.”

The next day, Becky arrived with another cup of jasmine tea. And the day after that, and the day after that. It became a small ritual—Becky teasing Freen about her nerdy tendencies, Freen quietly correcting Becky’s math mistakes, and the jasmine tea always sitting between them as they worked.

Though Freen remained hesitant, she found herself slowly getting used to Becky’s presence. Becky’s jokes, while often ridiculous, started to bring a faint smile to Freen’s lips. Becky’s bright energy filled the once-quiet library with laughter, breaking through Freen’s usual solitude.

One afternoon, Becky leaned back in her chair, holding up her workbook triumphantly. “Look at that! Ten correct answers! I’m officially a math genius.”

“You solved ten problems out of twenty,” Freen said, her tone dry.

“Come on, Freen,” Becky said, nudging her. “Let me celebrate the small victories.”

Freen shook her head, but there was a glimmer of amusement in her eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” Becky shot back, smirking.

Weeks passed, and Becky’s math scores steadily improved. Ms. Janjira announced that she was eligible for the state competition, much to Becky’s delight. But amidst the excitement, Becky realized something—she didn’t just miss sports when she was away. She missed jasmine tea in the library, Freen’s calm voice guiding her through equations, and the quiet bond they had formed over bickering and numbers.

Freen, though she’d never admit it, found herself enjoying the company. Becky was chaotic, loud, and wildly different from her, but somehow, she had become a presence Freen looked forward to seeing.

As they packed up their textbooks one afternoon, Becky grinned at Freen. “Don’t tell anyone, but I think you’re growing on me.”

Freen paused, her lips curving into the faintest smile. “Likewise.”