You Can Know Your Score Even Before the Report Card
The bus bound for Hwaryeong High School was, given the hour, packed with female students.
With earbuds in every ear and smartphones in every hand, one girl alone was neither listening to music nor staring at a screen, instead chatting happily with the friend beside her.
It was Hasol, the biggest social butterfly in the second year.
Her golden hair swayed along with the lurching bus, calling sunflowers to mind. The friend she was talking to had a similar shade of hair, though with the clear difference that hers was tied into a short ponytail.
It was Nayun, Class 2-1's reigning athlete.
Normally, the two of them almost never ended up on the same bus.
Hasol usually caught the bus one run earlier, but on days when she dawdled, she would sometimes ride along with Nayun.
The café, the self-photo studio, the karaoke box, even a clothing store.
Having made the most of the day before, Hasol had slept in for the first time in ages and boarded the same bus as Nayun.
The conversation between the two, likewise, was mostly taken up by the after-party with the three girls they'd spent yesterday with — Yeoncheong, Suyeon, and Seoha.
Even as her body rocked this way and that with the bus, Hasol's mouth never stopped. As more students crowded on and pressed them together, Nayun spoke up.
"With all that running around, no wonder you're sleepy."
Hasol bobbed her head in agreement at Nayun's sympathy.
"And Seoha of all people came out to hang out... that part surprised me."
"I heard from Suyeon yesterday that when Yeoncheong said she was going, Seoha asked if it was okay even if she'd be late."
Then, as if remembering something mid-conversation, Hasol spoke up.
"The photo booth pictures came out really well, by the way. Wait just a sec..."
Hasol began rummaging through the inside pocket of her blazer, searching for the photos in the cramped bus.
But it was both school time and rush hour.
A car cut them off recklessly, and the bus lurched to a hard brake. Hasol, hands free, lost her balance. Fortunately, Nayun beside her saved her from disaster.
"Just show me in the classroom. There are way too many people today."
"Yeah, good call."
At Nayun's words, Hasol gripped the handrail.
On the first day after midterms, most of Hwaryeong High's students, tension finally released, were arriving later than usual.
If the other students could do it, there was no law saying Yeoncheong couldn't.
She was, after all, utterly worn out from spending the day out with her girlfriends for the very first time.
Springing up out of bed with sensations she was not supposed to be getting used to, Yeoncheong muttered to herself.
"Ah... I'm doomed."
Unlike her bird's-nest hair, outside the window the birds greeted the morning with peaceful chirping.
Moments later, with a great clatter and bang, the house was turned upside down.
***
"Yeoncheong, I told you to forget everything and have fun. But... I don't recall ever telling you to forget to come to school?"
"I'm sorry..."
There was no room for excuses. In moments like this, all she could do was bow her head and apologize.
It was a one-woman lecture from her homeroom teacher, Ms. Jisu — as if everything that had quietly piled up until now had burst out all at once.
Bowing her head again and again, Yeoncheong only regained her freedom when the bell for the warning period before first period rang.
She sank into her seat with a whoosh of deflating air, and Nayun came over, fighting back laughter.
"You played that hard, so of course you'd be late."
Yeoncheong, having been scolded first thing in the morning, made her displeasure plain.
"How do you even know what we did?"
"Hasol told me on the bus."
Speak of the tiger and it shall appear — Hasol came walking over.
"Why were you so late? What time did you even go to sleep?"
"I slept like always. I think it's just because it was my first time playing that hard."
Yeoncheong, who had sprinted the whole way to school, yawned tiredly.
"Hahmm... I'm already exhausted."
"You ran here, huh?"
Yeoncheong nodded, covering her mouth with both hands.
"Well, thank goodness today's classes are barely classes at all."
"Huh?"
To the question mark floating on Yeoncheong's face, Nayun added,
"They said most of today is going over the midterm."
"Oh. Right."
Yeoncheong nodded as if it had only just dawned on her — then froze.
'Wait... I'm not mentally prepared to see my scores yet, though?'
But time waits for no one.
With the bell announcing first period, the teacher walked in, midterm papers in hand.
***
If you're not ready to face it, all you have to do is not check your answers.
But not everything in life broke down quite so neatly.
As much as she dreaded finding out, her desire to see the fruits of her effort was just as strong.
"Seoha, want to swap and grade each other's?"
A compromise. If Yeoncheong couldn't bring herself to grade her own paper, she could simply trade with the friend beside her. With that friend's consent, of course.
"Sure, fine."
Seoha handed over her own paper without hesitation, and Yeoncheong, after winning three rounds of internal struggle, passed hers across.
The teacher went through each problem one by one, explaining what the answer was and why. It was an hour well spent.
Every time an answer was read out, the quiet classroom filled in unison with the sound of circles being drawn and lines being ruled — and then fell silent again.
Yeoncheong joined that procession at first, but at some point she set her pen down and simply stared at her paper.
'This is basically... an answer sheet already...'
There was nothing left for her hand to do.
Having finished explaining every problem, the teacher looked up from the papers.
"I thought this one came out just right — did everyone do well?"
On one side of the room were declarations that it had been fine; on the other, grumbles that it had been hard. Pleased by the mixed reactions, the teacher declared that this proved the difficulty had been perfectly calibrated.
Yeoncheong returned Seoha's paper and received her own.
"You did well. Congrats."
"That's not something I should be hearing from someone who got a perfect score."
Having been listening to the students around them, the teacher's gaze shifted next to Seoha.
"Seoha, how did you do?"
"I think I got them all right. For now, anyway."
It was a test paper, not an answer sheet. Seoha declined to state it as fact. But the teacher had already spent a full year being thoroughly acquainted with Seoha's modesty.
"Was it too easy for you? Should I make the next one a little harder?"
At the teacher's remark, the murmuring classmates grew loud. Hasol, seated near the front, spoke up.
"Teacher, please don't design the test around the top scorer. You have to think about the rest of us, too."
The teacher calmed the students down, saying she'd only said it in passing.
***
Though there were a few actual classes, most of the day was devoted to going over the midterm problems.
Every period, Yeoncheong traded papers with Seoha, and every time she got hers back, her heart pounded as she checked the results.
Hasol and Suyeon.
Perhaps it was thanks to studying among friends who were so good at it, but Yeoncheong's grades weren't terrible.
Each time the list of subjects doomed to remedial classes shrank by one, color returned to Yeoncheong's face.
Yet on Seoha's face, even as she offered congratulations, lingered a faint trace of dissatisfaction.
When math — which had stood at over fifty percent likelihood of remedial classes — came back with a reassuring score, Seoha made no attempt to hide her disappointment.
"What? How did you do this well? You said you were definitely going to need remedial classes. Was all that drama for nothing?"
"No... the guesses just happened to land."
An absurd situation — apologizing for doing well on a test. Yeoncheong tilted her head.
'But still... does this count as doing well...?'
Honestly speaking, Yeoncheong's grades were, by any measure, not good.
Even her best test of the day — the only one that could charitably be called well done — barely scraped the class average.
But for Seoha, what mattered wasn't the score; it was whether she'd dodge remedial classes. If the score kept her out of them, it was as good as acing the thing.
If there was a subject where her blind guesses all landed, there could just as easily be one where they all missed.
The very next subject they graded was exactly that.
"Too bad. This one's going to be right on the line, I think."
"Really? I actually studied pretty hard for it."
Chagrined, Yeoncheong flipped through her test paper — which meant she never saw the faint smile that crossed Seoha's lips.
***
The annex, home of the Free Inquiry Club.
With midterms over, Hasol had returned to her cooking club, and only Yeoncheong remained in the spacious room. Suyeon's bag was there, but its owner was nowhere to be seen.
"She'll be right back," she'd said, so Yeoncheong was passing the time in the club room — and right as she yawned for the fourth time, Suyeon returned.
"Sorry, were you waiting long?"
"Yeah, a long time."
When Yeoncheong delivered the fact flatly, Suyeon put a hand on her hip.
"Hey, that's when you're supposed to say, 'Oh, not that long at all.'"
"I know that perfectly well. But you said you'd be right back."
When Yeoncheong pushed the facts in her face, Suyeon hunched apologetically.
"Sorry. The meeting ran longer than I expected."
"A meeting? What meeting?"
Curiosity piqued, Yeoncheong lifted her head from where it had been glued to the desk. Suyeon dragged a chair over and sat down beside her.
"Just some back-and-forth about the sports festival coming up in May."
"The sports festival?"
"The school sets the detailed schedule, but things like which events we do reflect student input to a degree."
"How about basketball?"
Yeoncheong's eyes sparkled at the words. Suyeon flicked her on the nose and pushed her back.
"I told you I was going to a meeting, and Nayun said the exact same thing you just did."
"Really?"
Suyeon nodded with exaggerated drama.
"And you don't even need to lobby. The school was already planning to add basketball as a main event this time."
At the news that basketball would be included, Yeoncheong balled her fist in a small, quiet cheer.
Suyeon pulled the joy-drunk girl back down to earth.
"We can talk festival stuff later. Yeoncheong, how were the tests you checked today?"
Yeoncheong thrust her thumb up proudly.
"According to Seoha, everything's fine except one that's right on the line."
"Not bad? I figured with all the fussing you made — the drama over stuff that mattered and stuff that didn't — five or six subjects would be on the chopping block."
At Suyeon echoing Seoha's words, Yeoncheong bristled a little.
"I distinctly remember telling you I'm not bad at studying? And it's my first test since transferring — cut me some slack."
"Okay, okay, I get it. Stop glaring at me."
Having pushed Yeoncheong away, Suyeon murmured to herself.
"So literature's about half-confirmed for remedial... that means I only need to help you with, what, two or three subjects?"
"Huh? You're going to help me?"
Suyeon tilted her head as if the question were absurd.
"Obviously. What am I supposed to do in the club room alone without you?"
"Fair point. But..."
"But what?"
Suyeon pressed her. Yeoncheong rolled her blue eyes this way and that.
"Seoha already offered to help me."
"Seoha did?"
Suyeon's eyes went round. This time it was Yeoncheong who bobbed her head.
"She'll be the busiest of all of us with the sports festival, though?"
Tilting her head the other way, Suyeon eventually lowered her eyebrows.
"Well... I suppose if the top scorer is offering, we should drop the friend who can't explain anything to save her life."
"Hey, that's not what I meant."
Suyeon flashed a grin at Yeoncheong's flustered face.
"Forget it. Whatever Seoha's helping with, just finish your remedials fast. With festival prep on top of club activities, it's going to get busy."
"Don't worry. I won't do anything to trip up busy Seoha."
But things didn't stay the way they'd been on that first day. The next day, and the day after that, as the remaining subjects came back with rough grades...
Two more were confirmed for remedial classes with disastrous scores. In the end, Yeoncheong expected she'd be sitting somewhere around three or four.
Even so, Yeoncheong was more than satisfied with that.
For a student facing a school on a whole different level — one who hadn't been able to spare a single thought for studying for nearly a month — it was nothing short of a miracle.