Sharing the Exam Papers

Horikita Suzune sat in her seat, staring at the exam paper inside her bag. She took a deep breath, then stood and walked to the front of the classroom.

"Everyone, quiet down."

Her voice was not loud, but the noisy classroom gradually fell silent. The pen Ike had been spinning in his hand dropped to the floor with a crisp clatter. Sudo groggily lifted his head from his desk, looking like he had not fully woken up yet. Everyone turned toward the podium, wondering what this ice-cold classmate, who rarely spoke, wanted to say.

She took the exam paper from her bag, opened it to the first page, and held it up for those in the front to see. The questions were printed densely across the page. The paper had obvious creases from being repeatedly examined, and its edges were slightly curled.

"I bought the real questions from last year's midterm exam. I got them from an upperclassman."

The room was silent for about two seconds. Then the classroom exploded.

"Seriously?

Where did you get that?

Horikita, you're amazing!

Wait, isn't this fake?

How did you confirm it's real?"

Questions and exclamations surged in like a tide. Several people spoke at once, their voices overlapping until nothing could be heard clearly. Horikita Suzune raised a hand to signal for silence and waited until the noise had died down somewhat before continuing.

"The paper is real. I checked it all last night. The question types, difficulty, and number of questions closely match the syllabus for this midterm. The direction and key areas of the questions also align with the textbook exercises. I intend to share it with the entire class and make copies."

She finished speaking. The classroom fell quiet for an instant, then another commotion broke out. This time, however, it was not skepticism, but astonishment and cheers. Someone slapped their desk, someone whistled, and someone had already started calling to the people beside them to prepare paper and pens. The atmosphere was completely different from the confusion when Chabashira had announced the point system last month—back then, it had been, "We're doomed." Now, it was, "We still have a chance."

Hirata stood up from his seat, his face full of surprise and admiration. "Horikita, you're incredible. You managed to pull off something like this. How many points did you spend? We'll all chip in and pay you back."

"No." Horikita Suzune's tone was calm but firm. "I've already paid. There's no need to collect anything."

Hirata looked at her and did not insist further. He knew that once Horikita Suzune said something, she would not take it back. Instead, he began taking action. "Everyone, listen. I'll borrow a copier from the equipment room, and we'll print the papers one by one. Who wants to help?"

Several people raised their hands at once. Matsushita Chiaki was the first to stand up and say, "I can help." She was followed by several girls who usually spent time with Kushida. Even Morita, who did not talk much, softly said, "I'll help too." Hirata counted the volunteers and began assigning tasks—some would go to the equipment room to move the copier, some would count the number of students in the class, and some would fetch copying paper from the storage room. Everyone moved quickly, and no one complained.

Kushida stood as well. Rather than dramatically saying, "Wow, Horikita, you're amazing," as she usually would, she walked straight up to Horikita Suzune and made a practical suggestion.

"I'll help organize the answers. I'll solve the questions on the paper first, then clearly write out the answers and explanations so everyone can compare them easily."

Horikita Suzune glanced at her. "Can you finish it alone?"

"I definitely can't finish it by myself, but we can divide the work." Kushida turned toward the class and called out, "Who wants to help work out the answers? Once we're done, we can check them together. Everyone can do a few questions, and it'll go much faster. It won't take too much time."

More people raised their hands than expected. Matsushita Chiaki was the first to respond, saying, "I'll handle English." Several students with fairly good grades then volunteered for different subjects, and Hirata signed up to handle the math section. Even Sato Airi, who usually did not participate much in group activities, raised her hand and said, "I can help proofread." Kushida swiftly distributed the tasks—everyone took a few questions, sent their completed work to her, and she would handle the final organization and formatting. The entire process flowed smoothly, as though she had done this many times before—and in truth, she had. Only before, she had done it to maintain her angelic image. Today, she genuinely wanted to get the job done.

Horikita Suzune stood at the podium, looking at all those raised hands. Her expression did not change much, but the fingers holding the exam paper tightened slightly. She had never expected so many people to be willing to help. In her mind, helping required a reason—either there was something to gain, or there was no other choice. Yet these people's reason seemed simple: someone needed help, so they reached out.

She was not used to this atmosphere, but she did not dislike it.

The copier was soon carried in by two boys. It was heavier than expected, and both of them were panting heavily by the time they brought it into the classroom. Hirata stood beside it, operating it page by page, and a thin layer of sweat quickly appeared on his forehead. The humming of the machine and the rustle of paper filled the room, while the faint scent of ink hung in the air. Someone voluntarily stood beside Hirata to hand him paper, someone sorted the printed exam papers according to the class roster, and someone else ran to another class to borrow a stapler for binding. The entire assembly line had clear divisions of labor and ran far more smoothly than expected. No one was giving orders, and no one was slacking off.

Kushida and several girls gathered around a long table at the back of the classroom. Each had been assigned a few questions, and they lowered their heads to write and calculate on paper. Brief discussions occasionally drifted over—"What's the answer to this one?" "I think it's C." "No, it should be B. Look, there's a trap here." "Wait, let me calculate it again." That natural atmosphere of cooperation gave the classroom a feeling it had never possessed before. It was no longer "Horikita is helping everyone," but a group of people doing the same thing together. No one was directing anyone else, no one was forcing anyone, and even the volume of their voices was lower than usual, as if they were afraid of disturbing the people beside them who were working on questions.

Yuto had remained seated by the window the entire time.

He watched the scene before him—Horikita Suzune stood silently beside the podium, but her eyes kept following the busy students. Kushida moved through the crowd with pen and paper in hand, and the way she spoke was completely different from her carefully crafted perfect smile of the past. Hirata rushed back and forth arranging the copies, not even noticing that the cuffs of his clothes had been smudged black with toner. Even Ike, who was usually so carefree, had voluntarily carried over a stack of paper, though he went back to playing with his phone afterward.

He came to a conclusion: this class was not as hopeless as it seemed. What it lacked was simply a reason that could bring everyone together. And today, Horikita Suzune had given them that reason. She probably had not even realized what she had done—she was not merely sharing an exam paper. She was telling the class: you can trust me; we can do something together. That shift in awareness was more important than any score. Once this class began believing that "we are one whole," many things would change in the future.

Yamauchi, Ike, and Sudo sat at the other end of the classroom, their expressions complicated.

Ike was the first to lean over and speak quietly. "Where did she get that exam paper? Don't tell me Yuto Hayashi gave it to her?"

"How could that be?" Yamauchi rolled his eyes, keeping his voice low. "That guy's such a jerk. He'd be happiest seeing us get screwed over. Why would he help her get an exam paper? She must've found a way to get it herself."

"Then she's pretty impressive." Ike's tone held a reluctant note of acknowledgment. "I only got forty-something on the last quiz. If I fail the midterm too, I can forget about going home for summer break. My mom said she'll cut my allowance if I fail another subject. She won't even buy me the new game."

Sudo snorted beside them. He sat back in his chair with his arms folded, his expression complicated—he did not want to admit that Horikita Suzune had done something good, but he could not think of anything bad to say in rebuttal either. That exam paper would be useful to him too. He had nearly failed his last mock math exam. If he messed up the midterm too, repeating a year or being expelled would no longer be a joke. No matter how stubbornly he talked, he understood that in his heart.

The three of them fell silent for a while.

"So, should we go get copies?" Ike asked quietly again, glancing toward the students lining up beside the copier.

Yamauchi and Sudo exchanged a look. Sudo's face was sour, but he did not say no.

"...Yeah." After holding it in for a long time, Sudo forced out one word, his voice muffled. "It's free. No reason to turn it down."

The three of them stood and squeezed into the line for copies. The people ahead of them wore slightly strange expressions when they saw them approach—after all, Sudo had flipped a desk and cursed people out in the classroom just a few days ago, and now he was here mooching off the exam papers. It was rather ironic. But no one stopped them, and no one said anything unpleasant. When Hirata saw them, he even proactively printed an extra copy for them. "The three of you can look at it together. Saves paper."

When Yamauchi accepted the papers, his expression looked as though he had swallowed a fly. His lips moved, but in the end, he still said, "Thanks." It was so quiet that it was almost inaudible, but he said it.

Ike accepted his copy openly and flipped through it. Looking at the pages full of questions, he said, "That's a lot of questions," then started scratching his head.

Sudo said nothing. He folded the paper and stuffed it into his pocket, then returned to his seat and sat down. Instead of lying down to sleep as usual, he rummaged through his desk and found a pen—the refill was already more than half used. He pulled off the cap, spread the paper on his desk, lowered his head, and began reading the first question. He did not write anything. He only looked. For him, taking the initiative to open an exam paper and look at the questions was already significant progress.

During lunch break, Kushida carried a lunch box over and sat beside Yuto's desk.

As she opened it, she said, "You spent all morning watching the show. You didn't help."

"They didn't need my help," Yuto said. "You had enough people."

"Excuses." Kushida picked up a piece of tamagoyaki and stuffed it into her mouth. "You're just lazy. You could've helped, but you chose to sit there and watch."

"Watching was pretty interesting too."

"What did you see?"

Yuto thought for a moment, then said, "I saw someone do something she never expected herself to do."

Kushida tilted her head, as if processing the meaning of those words. Then she let out an "Ah," as though she understood something. She did not pursue the matter and instead changed the topic. "What do you think will happen to our class after the midterm?"

"What do you mean, what will happen?"

"I mean, if we do well this time, will everyone become more confident? Will the study atmosphere improve? Will our class points go back up?"

Yuto glanced at her. When Kushida asked this question, her expression was serious—not polite, not the performance of "I care about everyone" she put on in social situations. She was genuinely thinking about it. Her change in mindset had happened faster than he expected. Going from "I only care about my image" to "I want this class to improve too" had taken less than a month.

"Maybe," he said. "But confidence comes quickly and goes quickly. Doing well on one exam doesn't mean much. What matters is whether you can keep it up afterward."

Kushida nodded and thoughtfully poked at the rice in her lunch box with her chopsticks. She was silent for a while, then said, "The way you talk really doesn't match your age."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah. Sometimes, you don't feel like a high school student. You feel like someone who's lived a long time pretending to be a high school student."

Yuto did not respond. What he thought was—Your instincts are pretty accurate.

By the afternoon, most of the class had received their copied exam papers. Some had already begun studying the questions intently, writing and calculating on page after page of scratch paper.

Others quietly discussed the answers with the people beside them. Conversations occasionally drifted over: "How did you solve this one?" "I got five." "I got seven." "Then one of us has to be wrong." Hirata printed several copies of the answers Kushida and the others had organized, then taped them to the bulletin board at the back of the classroom so everyone could compare them whenever they wanted.

The atmosphere in the classroom was completely different from last month. Before, everyone would start getting sleepy in the afternoon, playing on their phones and waiting for school to end. Today, exam papers were spread out across every desk. Some people were solving problems, some were discussing them, and some were checking their answers.

Many still wore expressions that said, "This is so hard, I don't understand any of it," but at least they were willing to look at it and willing to try. Compared to last month's attitude of "I can't learn it anyway, so I might as well give up," this was worlds apart.

Horikita Suzune sat in her seat and carefully put the original paper into a folder. When she looked up, she found Morita in the front row watching her. Morita was usually quiet, had average grades, and did not stand out much. They had been classmates for over two months, yet they had probably spoken fewer than ten sentences to each other in total.

Morita hesitated, then spoke. "Horikita, thank you."

Horikita Suzune froze for a moment. This was the second person today who had come specifically to thank her. One person had already approached her during the previous break, and now there was another.

"If you hadn't gotten this exam paper, I definitely would've been finished this time." Morita smiled. The smile was a little nervous, but sincere. "I only got around sixty on the last mock exam. My mom really tore into me when I got home. So, really... thank you. I'm not very good with words, but I mean it."

Horikita Suzune was silent for two seconds. She opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something, then closed it again. In the end, she spoke.

"You're welcome. Just study properly. That's more useful than thanking me."

Morita froze for a moment, then smiled. "Okay! I'll study properly."