With boredom, I rhythmically tap my fingers on the wooden surface of the desk in the teachers' lounge. The only sound in the room is the incessant ticking of the wall clock.

I can't deny that this place has its charm.

The walls are impeccably white, and in the center of the room stands an imposing desk, surrounded by a dozen chairs. In one corner, there's a cabinet with several lockers, each labeled with a teacher's name, and nearby is a solitary coffee machine. I frown at the unpleasant color scheme of the curtains and a sad-looking plant decorating a shelf near the clock.

During this moment, I retrieve my backpack, thanks to Enid, who kindly brought it from the dining hall after I left it behind. The blonde asks me what I need to do, but I simply snatch the bag from her hands and walk away, leaving her stunned by the abruptness.

—"Here I am, sorry for being late,"—I look up and see Jenna.

Professor Ortega seems exhausted, her breathing labored from running to get here on time.

—"Relax, you're still on time,"—I smile as she leans against the doorframe, catching her breath.

In reality, she's five minutes late, but I don't want to make a fuss.

—"How did it go?"—I ask.

Jenna exhales and raises her hands, expressing the gravity of the situation. —"A disaster. I had to kick out at least a couple of students from class who were flirting with me,"—she rolls her eyes in irritation, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

—"I remember... you haven't had much luck, have you?"—I ask rhetorically. Jenna shoots me an unfriendly look. I raise my hands in surrender.

—"Before we leave... can you do me a favor?"—Jenna leans against the doorframe, clearly intending for me to move.

—"Leave?"—I look at her curiously.

—"Never mind. Do you see those lockers? Go to mine and grab the stack of papers—it's in a yellow folder."—Jenna points out where to go, ignoring my question.

I walk toward the lockers, reading the surnames until I find "J. Ortega."

—"Umm... how do I open it?"—I look at the lock, nervously biting my lip.

—"Oh, how silly of me..."—she laughs and starts rummaging through her bag. The tip of her tongue pokes out slightly, focused on finding the object in her backpack. She smiles triumphantly as she pulls out a set of keys.

She holds them up proudly.

—"Here,"—from across the room, Jenna tosses the set of keys to me, and I nearly drop them. I turn my back on Professor Ortega and start organizing the keys in my hand. There are at least five, and one of them is definitely her car key.

—"The one with the tape,"—Jenna stands on tiptoes, trying to figure out why I'm taking so long.

I insert the key with the tape into the lock and smile at the sound of the locker opening. I open it and see a stack of folders. Blinking in surprise, I realize one of these folders seems to be from our class.

In fact, the yellow folder contains the tests from our class.

I don't think twice and grab the stack of papers. I close the locker and put the keys in my pocket.

Turning around, I see that Jenna, in addition to her bag, has slung mine over her shoulder.

—"Well, now follow me,"—Jenna gives me a mischievous smile and takes my wrist, dragging me behind her. With flushed cheeks, I try not to think about the fact that Jenna has grabbed my hand, focusing instead on not dropping the folder.

We take a few steps before arriving at a completely empty classroom. Sandy, the janitor, looks at us with disapproval since she's just finished cleaning.

—"Don't worry, we won't touch anything,"—Jenna reassures her with a friendly smile.

We enter the room.

Jenna lets go of my wrist and sits on the teacher's desk, picking up a forgotten pen between her fingers.

—"Can you help me? Meanwhile, we can discuss what we're going to do."—Jenna extends her hand, asking me to hand over the yellow folder. A strange sensation rushes through my veins, excited by her request.

Grading my classmates' tests? A dream come true.

I nod eagerly and sit next to Jenna, taking the stack of papers she's handed me. Along with them, she gives me a pen.

—"So... when could you come by in the afternoon?"—Jenna focuses on the test in her hand, absentmindedly nibbling on the pen.

She raises an eyebrow as she starts making calculations with the red pen.

—"Tuesday?"—I look at the test in my hand with horror. Shaking my head, I begin writing corrections in the margin.

—"And Friday, I think,"—I finish the sentence, curling the corner of my lips sadly.

—"I don't have to put the grades down, right?"—I ask, looking at the paper.

Jenna stops writing, leaning toward me to see what I've done. Her hand rests on my knee, supporting her weight on my leg.

Nervously, my heart seems to take on a life of its own, beating faster.

—"No, don't worry, I'll take care of entering the grades,"—she offers me a shy smile before starting to grade another test.

—"Oh my god,"—I exclaim, placing the test I was holding back with the others.

—"Her name is Sinclair... the blonde next to you? Your friend?"—she asks distractedly.

I nod suddenly, feeling the anxiety grow. Jenna gives me a timid smile.

—"So far, it's the only passing grade I've given,"—I smile at the good news.

Amid chatter and murmurs of disapproval over some truly challenging tests, Jenna and I finish grading. I glance at the clock and realize nearly an hour has passed.

—"Well... that was fun,"—I exclaim cheerfully, rubbing my eyes from fatigue.

—"I should go now; it's getting late,"—I yawn, and she smiles, nodding shyly.

—"Thanks... see you Friday, then? I don't think you need to stop by tomorrow since you've already put in extra time today,"—she stands from the desk and takes the graded tests.

I leave the keys on the desk.

—"See you Friday... no, Wednesday for class,"—I smile, and she winks at me. Picking up my backpack from the floor, I start walking toward the school exit.

As I step outside, I look up and see a threatening cloud over our city. I start walking, knowing it'll be a long walk home. Tightening the strap of my backpack, I sigh in exhaustion.

I just want to get home and sleep until tomorrow.

A single drop of water lands on the tip of my nose, then another on my lips before the rain begins to pour. I don't even have an umbrella, and the rain starts soaking me. I quicken my pace, trying to avoid catching a cold in this downpour.

A lightning bolt splits the sky.

I close my eyes at the loud sound, shivering as my wet clothes cling to my skin. A car horn pulls my attention back to the street. I squint, confused at whoever is honking so insistently. The passenger window rolls down, and I see Jenna Ortega on the driver's side.

Professor Ortega, one hand on the wheel, smiles at me. She leans over and opens the door.

—"How about I give you a ride?"—she suggests.

I smile, beginning to wonder if Jenna is an angel.