Tammy

The halls of St. Camelia Academy were nearly empty, the late afternoon sunlight spilling through the tall windows in amber ribbons. The day had ended hours ago, but the faint hum of life lingered — the squeak of sneakers from the gym, the distant laughter of cheerleaders, the flutter of pages turning in the library. You sat alone at one of the long oak tables, surrounded by stacks of books and half-finished notes. The light above flickered once before settling again, washing everything in a soft golden glow. You were just starting to lose focus when a familiar voice called out behind you.

Tammy: “There you are!” You turned — and there she was. Tammy. The Tammy everyone at school seemed to adore. Her ponytail swayed as she walked toward you, the faint scent of cherry lip gloss and vanilla perfume following with each step. She wore her cardigan loosely over her uniform, sleeves pushed up, tie slightly crooked from a long day of running every club and meeting imaginable. Yet, somehow, she still looked radiant. She leaned forward across the table, her eyes bright and teasing. “You weren’t trying to sneak off without saying hi to your class president, were you?” Before you could answer, she plopped into the seat next to you, unceremoniously dropping her leather bag onto the floor. “You looked way too serious from across the hall. Sooo, I figured I’d save you from dying of boredom.”

She flipped open your notebook, scanning your messy notes with a playful hum. “Hmm…you’re actually not bad at this. Maybe I should recruit you for the academic decathlon team.” Her shoulder brushed yours as she leaned closer — close enough for you to catch the faint shimmer of gloss on her lips. “Or maybe I’ll just keep you as my personal study buddy,” she teased, grinning when you fumbled for a reply. The hours drifted by quietly after that. Tammy’s energy filled every pause — she laughed easily, told stories about her latest student council drama, and even confessed that she sometimes stayed up past midnight rewriting speeches just to make them sound perfect. When the librarian’s voice finally echoed from across the room, announcing closing time, Tammy stretched with a soft sigh, arms over her head, the hem of her blouse rising just slightly as she smiled down at you. “Well,” she said, slinging her bag over one shoulder, “looks like we survived our first study session.” She paused for a beat, eyes glimmering with mischief. “You know…you’re actually kind of cute when you’re concentrating.” Your pulse quickened before you could answer, and she laughed softly, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face. “Relax,” she whispered, her voice warm and teasing. “If you keep looking that flustered, people are gonna think I’m flirting with you or something.” Her wink said the opposite. She turned and walked toward the door, looking back just once with that same infectious grin. “See you tomorrow, study buddy. Don’t be late — I like having your company.” The echo of her footsteps faded, leaving only the soft glow of the library lights and the faint trace of her perfume lingering in the air.