Chapter Twenty-Five: Group Effort

The classroom buzzed with anticipation as students shuffled in with notebooks, flash drives, and the usual dose of anxiety that came with presentations. Ms. Thompson stood near the front desk, flipping through her attendance clipboard while the projector hummed softly in the background.

Ryan sat with his group near the middle of the room, his backpack slouched lazily on the floor. Ben was nervously tapping his pencil against his desk, while Savannah scrolled through their shared slides on her tablet, double-checking everything with the intensity of someone defending a thesis.

Anna, seated next to Ryan, looked over at him. "You remember your part, right?"

Ryan gave a small nod. "Yeah."

She raised an eyebrow. "You're not going to just sit there and scoff like in Lit class, are you?"

A faint smirk tugged at the corner of Ryan's mouth. "Only if someone misquotes the author again."

Anna smiled and shook her head. "You're impossible."

"Group four," Ms. Thompson called. "You're up."

The four of them stood. Ben looked like he wanted to disappear, while Savannah practically strutted to the front of the room, radiating confidence. Anna followed with calm composure, and Ryan, hands in his pockets, brought up the rear—quiet, collected, unreadable.

Their project was on "Modern Storytelling: The Evolution of Narrative Through Film and Literature." Savannah started strong, laying out the premise with charm and ease. She spoke with the rhythm of someone who enjoyed being in the spotlight.

Ben followed with a surprisingly steady voice, his passion for comic books tying into the discussion on visual storytelling. He even got a few nods of approval from classmates when he mentioned how early superhero stories reflected political climates.

Then it was Ryan's turn.

He stepped up, glancing once at the screen before turning to face the class.

"We chose to include David Foster Wallace's work because it challenges the idea of connection in a world drowning in irony and distraction," Ryan said, his voice low and calm. "Most people misread him. He wasn't trying to be clever—he was begging for sincerity. For meaning."

A brief pause filled the room. Even Ms. Thompson looked up from her notes.

"I think stories today are afraid to say something real without coating it in sarcasm or a joke. But Wallace didn't care about being liked—he cared about truth. And I respect that."

Ryan stepped back, wordlessly signaling that he was done. Anna looked at him, her expression unreadable—half impressed, half surprised.

She stepped forward next and tied everything together with a summary that was both clear and thoughtful, adding a few insights about how different mediums influenced her own view of stories.

When the presentation ended, there was a pause before Ms. Thompson started clapping. A few others followed.

"Great job, group four," she said. "That was well thought-out and balanced. I especially appreciated the analysis, Ryan."

Ryan gave a barely-there nod as he walked back to his seat.

Ben leaned toward him, whispering, "Dude. You killed it."

"Wasn't trying to," Ryan muttered.

"Exactly," Savannah chimed in with a grin. "That's what made it cool."

Anna didn't say anything, but when Ryan glanced at her, she was already looking at him.

And for a split second—just a flicker—he thought she might actually be seeing him differently.