{The girl next me and her model notebook}

Sato-san was diligently writing in her notebook.

With a desperate expression, she was copying down the content from the blackboard.

Suddenly, there was a faint snapping sound, and the lead in her mechanical pencil broke.

“Ah…”

Immediately, Sato-san began to fumble.

She made clicking noises with the pen, desperately trying to return to her task.

I watched this from the seat next to her.

Or rather, I should say I was waiting.

It was already recess. The previous class had been Japanese history, and the teacher’s unique handwriting filled the blackboard. The teacher’s upward-slanting strokes were not unreadable.

So why, I wondered, was Sato-san so slow at taking notes?

Even though recess had started, she was the only one still copying from the blackboard. Everyone else was either preparing for the next class or chatting briefly in the classroom or hallway.

How many minutes had I been waiting?

I almost wanted to sigh, but since the cause of my frustration was right next to me, I refrained from doing so.

“I’m sorry, Yamaguchi-kun!”

From my left, I heard Sato-san’s flustered voice.

Looking over, I saw Sato-san awkwardly trying to refill the lead in her pencil.

“Oh, you don’t need to rush.”

I said, though it wasn’t my true feeling.

Sato-san looked at me apologetically.

“But… If I don’t finish copying, you won’t be able to erase the blackboard, right?”

“Yeah.”

Absolutely. I muttered inwardly.

Why does she have to be so slow on the day I’m the class monitor?

Of course, it’s not unusual for her to be slow.

But if she doesn’t hurry, the next class will start. Moreover, the next class is classical literature, and the teacher is the always loud Mr. Murakami. If the blackboard isn’t erased, he will definitely nag, so I need her to hurry up.

I managed to take proper notes during class. I even had enough time to observe Sato-san fumbling next to me.

I wondered why it took her so long and peeked at her notebook. It was filled with tiny, rounded letters, and I worried whether she could read them later.

Well, it’s not really my concern.

Except for the fact that I had the task of erasing the blackboard as the class monitor, it wasn’t my problem.

Eventually, losing patience, I stood up and told Sato-san,

“We don’t have much time, so I’ll erase the blackboard.”

“Eh… U-um, okay.”

Sato-san looked down sadly.

Inwardly, I felt irritated.

I particularly disliked this aspect of Sato-san. If she has complaints, she should express them clearly, but she never asks for the blackboard to be left some more. She must know it’s her fault.

Modesty is not a virtue or anything. In fact, it annoyed me as if she was seeking sympathy.

Whether I sympathize or not is my own choice.

I refuse to have my emotions swayed by Sato-san’s behavior.

So I told her,

“I’ll lend you my notes.”

It took about five seconds for Sato-san to widen her eyes in surprise.

“Eh…? But, um…”

Her slow reaction was also annoying. It was frustrating.

Without waiting for her to continue, I took out my Japanese history notebook from my desk and handed it to her. Sato-san asked hesitantly,

“Is it okay to borrow this?”

“Return it by the end of the day. There’s homework too.”

I said, intentionally not handing it directly to her but instead tossing it onto the desk.

Then I hurried to the front of the noisy classroom to erase the blackboard.

“Ah, thank you, Yamaguchi-kun!”

When Sato-san shouted this to my back, I almost clicked my tongue in annoyance.

I didn’t want to be publicly thanked. If everyone heard, they might misunderstand.

It’s just that I lent her a notebook.

After school, Sato-san returned the notebook as promised.

“Thank you so much. I’m sorry for the trouble, and you even lent me your notes.”

Her gratitude was still as loud as ever.

“It’s fine. I am just glad you could finish on time.”

“I’m sorry. But it was really helpful.”

She was persistent. I had already said it was fine.

Even though she must have been tired from copying notes today, she still was sorry to me.

I kept an eye on her after I lent her my notebook.

I watched as Sato-san used both recess and lunchtime to continue copying her notes.

Knowing she was absorbed in her work with a desperate expression, she didn’t need to thank me repeatedly.

“And you know,”

After handing me the notebook, Sato-san said with a bright smile,

“Your notes were very easy to read. So, it really helped me.”

“Really? I thought they were just ordinary.”

“You include furigana for difficult words and kanji, don’t you?”

She’s sharp about some things despite being slow.

Trying not to show my surprise, I quickly looked away.

“Well, yeah.”

“So, I thought it was impressive that your notes are so readable. I might try doing that from now on.”

Sato-san must have only seen today’s class page.

So she didn’t notice that I hadn’t added furigana to other pages.

Since I had extra time during the class,

Knowing that Sato-san had been slow at taking notes,

And because I was the class monitor and had the task of erasing the blackboard,

Even though I listed these reasons, it might have been odd to add furigana to my notes.

For words that come up in Japanese history class, I can read them without difficulty.

What I can’t read is the part of myself that sometimes wants to be kind in this way.