Frienemy (2)

The study sessions at Aulya's apartment became their new normal. Twice a week, Ian would make the trip across town, settling into a comfortable rhythm of challenging assignments, shared snacks, and the PlayStation 3 humming quietly in the corner. The line between rival and friend blurred with each passing day. He discovered that Aulya hummed when deep in thought and kept a secret stash of imported sour candies in the coffee table drawer for particularly brutal math problems. When frustrated, she tapped her pen against her lip exactly three times before trying a different approach.

But Ian carried the constant weight of his secret knowledge. Remembering the general flow of his past life was one thing, recalling the specific trap questions that Pak Iwan loved to plant in his exams was another entirely. Each study session became a careful dance of helping without revealing too much, of guiding Aulya toward the right answers without making his foreknowledge obvious.

The moment that would test this delicate balance came during one intensive session in late October. They were working through a complex algebra worksheet when Ian's blood ran cold at problem seven, a convoluted word problem about two trains traveling toward each other from different cities. It looked straightforward on the surface, but Ian knew better. This exact question, with its carefully crafted misleading information, had appeared on their midterm exam in his previous life. He could still remember the collective groan that had echoed through the classroom when students realized they'd been tricked.

Aulya was already deep into the problem, her pen moving rapidly across the paper in neat, precise calculations. Her brow was furrowed in concentration, working through the logic step by step the way she always did. Ian watched her, his heart hammering against his ribs. The temptation to simply tell her the trick was overwhelming, but that would be too suspicious. Yet letting her walk blindly into Pak Iwan's trap felt like betraying their growing friendship.

"Wait," he said finally, tapping his pen against the paper. "Something feels off about number seven. It seems almost too straightforward for Pak Iwan."

Aulya paused, looking up from her notes. "What do you mean? It's just a basic distance-rate-time problem. You set up the equation where the distances equal each other when they meet."

"I know, but..." Ian improvised, trying to guide her without giving the answer away, "read the second sentence again carefully. Something about the wording feels like he's baiting us into using the wrong variable for the time calculation. What if we drew out a diagram first?"

Aulya stared at the problem again, her lips moving silently as she re-read each sentence with renewed attention. Ian held his breath, watching as understanding slowly dawned in her expression. Her eyes widened slightly.

"Oh," she breathed, scratching out her previous work with sharp, decisive lines. "You're absolutely right. The starting points aren't the same, one train has a head start. I was setting up the equation assuming they both started at time zero, but that's not what the problem says at all." She looked at him with an expression that mixed gratitude with something sharper, more evaluating. "I would have missed that completely. That was a really good catch."

Ian exhaled slowly, his shoulders relaxing. "Just had a feeling something was fishy about it."

The results of their combined efforts became undeniable when the first major test scores were posted on the classroom bulletin board two weeks later. A crowd of students swarmed the list, their voices creating a familiar symphony of groans and excited whispers. Ian pushed through, his heart pounding as his eyes searched for their names.

Aulya Putri — 99

Arrayan Dirandra — 98

He stared at the numbers, hardly believing what he was seeing. He had closed the gap. In his previous life, he'd been lucky to score an 85 on this test, landing him firmly in the top three but miles away from Aulya's seemingly unreachable peak. Now he was right there, separated by a single point. Pride surged through him like electricity, confirmation that this second chance could truly be different.

He sensed a presence beside him and turned to see Aulya studying the board, her face unreadable. She wasn't smiling. Her dark eyes moved from her own score to his, and for a moment, the friendly warmth between them was replaced by something else.

"98," she said, her voice carefully neutral but carrying a sharp edge. "I don't think you've ever scored that high before. Not even close."

"Still one point short of first place," Ian replied, unable to suppress the challenging smile that tugged at his lips.

Aulya finally met his gaze directly, and he saw competitive fire kindle in her eyes, something that erased the brief chill and replaced it with something far more interesting. "The final exams are still months away," she said quietly, before turning and walking back to her desk with deliberate calm. The message was crystal clear. Game on.

The rivalry that followed intensified beyond anything Ian had expected, but it wasn't hostile competition. Instead, it became like a whetstone, sharpening them both to a keener edge. They pushed each other harder during study sessions, engaging in spirited debates about scientific concepts and racing to solve complex mathematical problems. The respect between them grew with every correct answer, every clever insight, every moment when one of them managed to see a solution from an angle the other had missed.

But Aulya was far too perceptive not to notice the other changes in Ian, subtle shifts that went beyond simple academic improvement.

The confrontation came on a grey afternoon in November, after they had conquered their homework and were unwinding with a racing game. Without warning, Aulya set down her controller mid-race, letting her car crash into a barrier as she turned to face him.

"Can I ask you something, Ian?"

Something in her tone made him pause the game immediately. "Sure. What's up?"

"You've changed," she stated with characteristic bluntness. Her gaze was direct and unflinching. "You're not the same person you were on the first day of school. The way you talk, the way you handle difficult situations, the way you think through problems... it's like you're not really thirteen anymore. Like there's an adult living inside you."

Ian's stomach twisted into a tight knot. "What do you mean, exactly?"

"That algebra problem with the trains," she continued, ticking points off on her fingers with lawyer-like precision. "It was like you sensed the trap before we even started. You had this intuition about Pak Iwan's teaching style that felt too sophisticated. And when you met my maid that first day, you greeted her with a level of respect that most adults don't even show to service workers. It was automatic, natural." She leaned forward slightly. "And then there's how you are with Pak Iwan himself. Everyone else is terrified of him, but you look at him like you feel sorry for him. Like you understand something about him that the rest of us don't."

She paused, letting her observations sink in. "This isn't just about studying harder or being more motivated. Something fundamental has changed about who you are. So what is it? What happened to you?"

The air felt thick with unspoken questions. Ian's mind raced, searching for an explanation that would be believable while containing enough truth to satisfy her intelligence without revealing the impossible reality.

He let out a long, slow sigh, the weight of maintaining his secret suddenly feeling heavier than ever. Finally, he settled on a version of the truth, not the whole truth, but perhaps enough.

"You're right," he admitted quietly, looking down at his hands. "Something did change, and it was exactly what you said. That first day of school, seeing my uncle standing there at the front of our classroom."

He looked up to meet her questioning eyes. "Pak Iwan has spent my entire life telling me that I'm not good enough, that I'm a disappointment to our family, that I'll never amount to anything worthwhile. Every family gathering, every report card, every conversation, it was always the same message. When I walked into that classroom and saw him as our teacher, I realized he was probably right about one thing, if I kept going the way I was, I would end up exactly the failure he'd always predicted."

The words came easier now, flowing with emotional honesty. "It was like a wake-up call. Seeing him there made me realize that this was my chance to prove him wrong, but only if I was willing to completely change who I was. So I decided I was done being a careless kid. I started thinking about consequences, about how my actions would affect my future, about treating people the way they deserved to be treated."

Aulya listened intently, her expression gradually softening as she processed his explanation. The intense scrutiny was slowly replaced by something warmer, understanding, maybe even empathy. She had never known about his family connection to their intimidating teacher. His story, while not complete, carried enough genuine emotion to ring true.

"Okay," she said quietly, her voice gentler than before. "That actually makes a lot of sense. More sense than I expected, honestly."

She picked up her controller again, a signal that the interrogation was over. "Well," she said, a small but genuine smile returning, "for what it's worth, I think you're doing a pretty good job of proving him wrong."

Ian smiled back, relief and gratitude washing over him. "I have a really good study partner helping me do it."

"Don't get too comfortable with that," she retorted, her thumb hovering over the start button with mock menace. "I'm still planning to absolutely crush you on the final exams."

"We'll see about that," he laughed, the tension finally breaking completely.

As the familiar theme music filled the room and their virtual cars returned to the track, Ian understood that their relationship had shifted into something new and more complex. They were rivals and allies, friends and competitors, bound together by mutual respect and shared academic goals. Aulya was no longer just the key to his academic success or the untouchable genius he'd once envied, she was becoming a true friend, someone who saw more than he intended to reveal but chose to accept his explanations, someone he was increasingly grateful to have by his side in this second chance at life.

The frienemy pact, unspoken but understood by both of them, was finally and completely sealed.