Chapter 5 Two Minutes Too Late

Leo gave a smug little snort and took his sweet time crossing the street.

When he finally reached the shop, he cut straight to the front of the line. And even then, he couldn't just place his order and leave.

He told the cashier to crush the lemon very finely and to fill the cup completely to the top with ice.

I kept checking my phone.

Nine minutes left.

Then eight.

Then seven.

Every second felt like torture. My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears.

Five minutes later, Leo finally walked out with his iced lemon tea.

Instead of coming back to us, he stopped beside a sleek motorcycle on display outside the shop.

Leo pulled out his phone, put on his sunglasses, and started filming himself beside the motorcycle. One hand rested on the handlebars while he casually held his drink in the other.

He recorded clip after clip, checking each one before shooting another.

When he was finally happy with the footage, he stood there editing it on his phone—trimming the clips, adding music, and playing around with the filter.

Another three minutes disappeared.

Only after he posted the video to Instagram did he take a long sip of his tea and return to us.

"All right," he said, smacking his lips. "Let's go."

…

By the time we managed to get another taxi and pulled up outside the exam center, a sharp bell was already ringing from inside.

We were late.

The cutoff for entry had passed two full minutes ago, and the front gates were already shut.

More than forty students from our class were packed outside the locked entrance, along with their parents.

The second they saw us, their faces lit up.

For one brief moment, hope swept through the crowd.

However, the security officer at the entrance announced, "The exam has already started, and we're no longer accepting admission slips. I'm afraid you won't be able to enter."

One of the mothers rushed forward immediately. "Please! They have the admission slips now. It's only been two minutes!"

"Please!" Another parent broke down sobbing. "My son has spent two years preparing for this! You can't let everything come down to two minutes!"

Within seconds, the entrance descended into chaos. Students were crying, parents were pleading, and some were shouting through the doors at the staff.

My knees gave out, and I sank onto the curb.

It was over.

All those late nights studying, all those practice tests, and the families who sacrificed money, time, and sleep because they believed today could change something—now it was all lost in just two minutes.

Right then, Leo walked up, still holding his iced lemon tea.

He stopped behind the crowd and looked around at everyone crying before rolling his eyes. "Come on, it's only two minutes. That guy at the door seriously needs to loosen up."

He took another sip, completely unfazed. "Why are you all crying? So, you missed this one. Take it again next time. It's not the end of the world. You people act like missing one test date means your life is over."

That was the last straw.

Every student and parent turned toward him, and the anger in the crowd shifted almost instantly.

A few parents started pushing their way forward, looking ready to go after him.

Just then, a violent cough cut through the noise.

Everyone turned toward the edge of the crowd.

A girl was hurrying toward us, stumbling slightly as she walked. Her face was so pale she looked like she could collapse at any moment.

The moment Leo saw her, his expression changed completely.

The smug look disappeared, and panic flashed across his face. "The SATs have already started!" he blurted out. "Why are you still here?"