It's third period physics, so like always Pearl is sitting in the first row with a stack of origami paper in front of her and the whispers of her classmates behind her. She'd have thought they'd have moved on by now, but apparently Jasper isn't that creative, preferring easy targets to match her easy cruelty.
Pearl likes physics, the way something as emotionless and empty as an equation can create something as beautiful as the Earth. (Like dancing, she'll think later as she practices a step for the thousandth time, watching a sweep of her leg combine with the angle of her arms to create something more than she could ever hope to be.)
Physics is a good class, not one where she's caught between what she wants to say and what she can express, and this is reflected in her hands, which are more steady than they have been all day. She makes her favourite cranes in physics.
The teacher begins speaking, and Pearl adjusts to make sure her notebook is within reach. She knows all of this already, but she wants the notes ready for later, when she will offer them to Amethyst as if she thought the other girl's notes were just lost and not crumpled at the bottom of her bag in a fit of frustration and despair.
When the teacher pauses, Pearl continues her folding, a line of perfect cranes making its way across her desk. They will be crumpled when class ends, hastily swept into a bag and crushed by their fellows, but for now they are crisp and lovely, a perfect lie.
Someday, Pearl will have one thousand, if she doesn't already. The number doesn't matter, because she only has one wish, which she folds into each crane. It's not quite in words (she'd just ruin it like she ruins everything else), just a swirl of safety and happiness and warm smiles and pink curls, all surrounded by a feeling of longing.
Maybe she won't get her wish, but somehow that doesn't matter as much now as it will at one in the morning when she's going over her textbooks for the dozenth time. For now, she's in physics, and the teacher is talking about things she understands. She smiles, softly, her fingers tracing a silent dance across her paper to an audience of cranes.