The Name Everyone Already Knew

Olivia's POV

"And the best student in the last academic session is..."

The teacher paused, smiling like he enjoyed the suspense more than we did.

He didn’t even get to say it.

"Olivia!" The whole class chorused like it was a national anthem.

I didn’t say anything. I just lowered my head and tried not to smile too hard. It wasn’t pride. It was a habit. People expected me to win—so I did. That’s how it had always been.

Mr. Ben chuckled as he held up the sheet. “You people won’t even allow me to land the announcement.”

“Sir, she’s been topping since freshman year,” someone said from the back. “It’s almost spiritual at this point.” 

Laughter rippled through the room. I heard a few side comments—the kind I’d grown used to.

“She doesn’t even look like she reads that hard.”

“Maybe she swallows textbooks at night.”

“I heard her mum used to be a teacher. It runs in the blood.”

That last one hit differently. I blinked once and kept my smile frozen in place.

“Well, I hope you all learn something from her consistency,” Mr. Ben continued. “Olivia George, congratulations once again.”

As the class clapped, Lola leaned over from her seat beside me and whispered, “One day, I’ll snatch that top spot from you. Even if it’s by accident.”

“You’ve been saying that since year one,” I whispered back.

She rolled her eyes. “Consistency, babe. I’m just trying to copy you.”

We shared a small laugh. Lola was the only one who could tease me without making it weird. Her humour had a way of softening even the most tense classroom moments. But deep down, I knew she cared. She was the kind of friend who showed up loud—and stayed.

Then, she looked at me a little more seriously and said, “You know, anyone who doesn’t know you would think you’re a hypocrite. But girl, you’re so nice. And trust me, if I had half of your brain, I’d be a real—” she snapped her fingers dramatically, “—problem. Like, untouchable.”

 My head. “You’re already a problem, Lola. Just not the academic kind.”

She flipped her braids like a diva. “Exactly. Balance is key.”

The fan above us groaned as it turned slowly, like it too was tired of this routine. I let my eyes scan the room. Desks were scattered with wrappers and books half-unpacked. Chalk dust floated through slanted sunlight. Everything looked familiar—and slightly drained. Like we were all waiting for the real term to begin.

It was the first week of a new session, but already the school was buzzing like we’d never left. Teachers are handing out timetables. Students claiming lockers. New students were trying to figure out where the toilets were. And here we were, revisiting old records.

I stood slowly, adjusting my bag. Davis passed by and gave me a slight nod. That was his version of “congrats.” Quiet, simple, but it always landed.

“You’re famous,” he murmured as he walked past. “Again.”

“You make that sound like a threat,” I said, amused.

“It is,” he replied with a smirk, then doubled back. “You never stress, yet somehow you’re still top of your class.”

“And you never shut up, yet somehow you still pass,” I shot back.

He chuckled. “Touché.” Then he was gone.

Outside, the corridor buzzed with the usual noise—students yelling, dragging chairs, and talking over each other about new teachers and new rules. I headed toward my locker when someone I didn’t really talk to tapped my arm.

“Olivia, right?”

I turned. “Yeah?”

“You’re really smart. I just... I was wondering if you ever tutor people?”

Her voice was soft, unsure. Probably a sophomore.

I hesitated for half a second before answering, “Not officially. But... maybe.”

She smiled, nodded, and walked off quickly before I could ask her name.

“Can you not add ‘school counsellor’ to your resume yet?” Lola said, appearing out of nowhere. “You already beat all of us. Let some of us breathe small.”

“You could just say thank you for my free notes,” I replied, giving her a look.

“You think I read them?” she said, dramatically flipping her braids. “I use them to block the sun in the school field.”

I laughed, pushing her lightly. She caught up beside me as we walked out to the yard where other students were already forming circles. That weird start-of-session energy had kicked in—people reuniting, sharing stories of the holidays, eyeing new faces.

The air smelled like dust and grass. The sky looked like it was torn between raining and not. I breathed it all in.

For a second, I allowed myself to feel proud. I had done it again. Topped the class last session. Stayed focused. Made Mum and Dad proud. 

Except... he's in a critical situation where we don't know his fate yet.

The thought slipped in before I could block it. Like a tiny leak in a perfect picture frame. Just enough to sting, not enough to cry. I looked up at the clouds, wishing for rain—not heavy, just enough to explain my mood.

“I hope we’re all in the same class this term,” Lola said beside me, half-serious.

“Same,” I said quietly. “Change is overrated.”

Before she could respond, someone shouted my name from the far end of the yard. I turned just in time to see Andrew jogging toward us, notebook in hand.

Lola squinted and grinned. “Ah-ah. Is that Andrew or a movie trailer coming to disrupt our lives?”

I snorted. “Be serious.”

“Congrats again,” Andrew said as he reached us. He handed me the notebook. “You forgot this. You left it under your seat.”

“Thanks,” I said, trying not to notice how he was slightly out of breath.

He gave a small smile, eyes lingering like he wanted to say something more but wasn’t sure how.

“You dropped something too,” Lola added quickly. “The peace and quiet we were enjoying before you got here.”

Andrew laughed. “Good to see nothing’s changed.”

I raised a brow at her and rolled my eyes.

Just as we were settling into the banter, a loudspeaker crackled on from the staff block. A male voice, urgent.

“Will the following students report to the principal’s office immediately…”

We all turned, confused.

Names were called. Two. Then three. Then—

“Olivia George.”

My smile dropped.

Lola blinked. “Wait, what?”

Andrew looked at me. “Did you do something?”

“No,” I said slowly. “At least… I don’t think I did.”

There were murmurs now. Heads turned. Eyes locked on me.

“That’s weird,” someone muttered. “Olive never gets in trouble.”

I clutched the notebook tighter and looked toward the admin block. Something about the way my name was said—it didn’t feel routine. It felt final.

Lola reached for my hand. “Want me to come with you?”

I shook my head, my voice

calm even though my stomach had dropped. “No. It’s probably nothing.”

But as I walked away, something in my chest whispered otherwise.