DEAD HORIZON — Chapter 9: Grades

Monday third period started with a stack of papers. Mr. Delgado set them on his desk like they were evidence. “Project grades,” he said. “Some of you surprised me. Some of you didn’t.”

Arthur kept his eyes on his desk. His gray hoodie was clean now. The soda stain was gone after three washes. But he could still feel it.

Mr. Delgado started passing them back. “Carter and James, 84. Good work on the film section, but your thesis was vague.” He kept going. “Shaw and Mitchell, 78. Next time, Kevin, maybe do more than Wikipedia the night before.”

Kevin didn’t laugh. His jaw clicked. He took the paper and didn’t look at it.

“Johnson and Evans,” Mr. Delgado said. He held up two papers. “98. Highest in the class.”

The room shifted. A few heads turned. Arthur felt it. He didn’t look up.

Mr. Delgado walked to Arthur’s desk first. He set the paper down. “Mr. Johnson. I’ve had you for two years. That was the first time I’ve seen you present like you meant it.” He tapped the 98. “Your analysis of player agency in God of War was college-level. Keep that up.”

Arthur mumbled, “Thanks.” His ears burned. He folded the paper in half before anyone else could see the grade.

Sophia got hers next. She nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Delgado.” No smile. No excitement. Just acknowledgement. She slipped it into her binder like it was a grocery receipt.

Kevin stared at his 78. Then at Arthur. Then at Sophia. He ripped the corner of his paper. Small tear. Then another.

The bell rang ten minutes later. Arthur stood to leave.

“Johnson.” Kevin was at his desk again. No friends this time. “Ninety-eight, huh? Guess Mr. Delgado likes gamers now.”

Arthur zipped his bag. “Move.”

“You think you’re smart because you got one good grade?” Kevin leaned in. His voice was low. “You’re still nobody. Sophia just carried you. Everyone knows it.”

Arthur didn’t answer. He walked around him. Same as Friday. Same shoulder bump.

Kevin grabbed his sleeve. Not hard. Just enough to stop him. “I’m talking to you.”

Arthur pulled his arm free. “You’re talking at me. There’s a difference.”

He left. He didn’t look back. But he could feel Kevin’s eyes on his back the whole way to the door.

Sophia was already in the hall. She was talking to a girl from student council about blood drive volunteers. She didn’t look over when Arthur walked past. She didn’t need to.

Maggie was waiting by his locker after fifth period. She had a granola bar and her calc textbook. “Heard you broke the curve,” she said. “Ninety-eight?”

“Yeah.” Arthur spun his lock. “It was whatever.”

“Whatever.” Maggie unwrapped the granola bar. “You know, most people would be excited. You’re acting like you got a parking ticket.”

Arthur shrugged. “It’s just a grade.”

Maggie watched him. He wasn’t looking at her. He was looking down the hall. Toward the council office. Sophia had office hours during lunch. Everyone knew that.

“You’re thinking about her,” Maggie said. It wasn’t a question.

“What?” Arthur finally looked at her. “Who?”

Maggie smiled. It didn’t reach her eyes. “Nothing. Forget it.” She took a bite of the granola bar. “You want half?”

“I’m good.”

“Right.” She closed her textbook. “I’m gonna fail calc anyway. Might as well do it hungry.”

She walked off. She didn’t slam her locker. She didn’t yell. She just left.

Arthur didn’t notice the change in her voice. He was already pulling his phone out, checking if he had any missed emails. He didn’t.

He didn’t see Maggie stop at the end of the hall. He didn’t see her look back once. He didn’t see her wipe her eyes before she kept walking.

After school, the house was empty again. Penny at soccer. Parents at work. Arthur dropped his bag and went straight to his room.

He didn’t turn on his console. He sat at his desk. Opened his laptop. Closed it.

The email from Friday was still in his inbox. Great work today. He didn’t open it. He didn’t need to. He’d memorized it.

His phone buzzed. Unknown number.

Yo. This Rell. From Calc. You down to run 2s in Neon District? Aiko said you’re not trash.

Arthur stared at it. Rell. He’d played with him once in a tournament lobby. Loud kid. Good aim.

He typed back.

Arthur: I’m down. 10 minutes.

Rell: Bet. Aiko’s already on. She said you owe her a support game.

Arthur smiled. He grabbed his headset.

He didn’t think about Sophia for the next three hours.

He didn’t think about Kevin.

He didn’t think about Maggie walking away.

He just played.