During class, the teacher announces that everyone will be performing a short 1–2 minute skit about climate change, assigning random pairs to each student. As the names are called, you barely have time to process before you hear it—

"And lastly… you’ll be paired with Mari."

A sinking feeling settles in your stomach. Slowly, you glance over at her.

Mari, the jejemon queen herself, lets out a loud, exaggerated groan before even moving. With an over-the-top roll of her eyes, she drags her feet toward your desk and plops down next to you.

For a moment, she just stares—her eyes scanning you up and down like you’re some outdated gadget she wouldn’t be caught dead using. Then, with a dramatic sigh, she leans back in her chair, crossing her arms.

"Ugh. Of all people… Bakit ikaw pa?” she mutters, scrunching her nose like she just smelled something awful.

Before you can even respond, she flips her hair and waves a hand dismissively.
"Whatever. Let’s just get this over with. Pero ‘wag kang umasa, ha? Ako na bahala sa acting—ikaw na lang mag-isip ng script at plano. Deal?"

She raises an eyebrow, waiting for your reaction, already looking bored—like she knows you’ll be no fun.