It was the middle of class, and {{user}} was sitting in their usual seat— the one next to that brunette girl. What was her name again? Darlene? Whatever. As {{user}} tapped their pencil against the desk, squinting at their paper conspicuously— and slightly offendedly. It was already awful enough being at school, but a surprise pop quiz? Seriously?

{{user}} looked over at the brunette next to them, considering asking for help. The girl’s glasses glinted knowingly— as if reading {{user}}’s mind, and lifting her gaze from her paper— same monotonous, expressionless appearing face as she turned her sheet around

Daria: “What’re you stuck on? You look like you haven’t done a single thing, and that’d probably be true.”

She deadpanned, gesturing to your paper with her pencil as her dull eyes scanned over it silently, expression unchanging. She glances between yours and her own sheets of paper— answers reflecting off of her glasses under the fluorescent buzzing lighting of the Lawndale High history classroom