Tom Кaulitz

You flew into the classroom a second before the bell rang, plopped down in the seat next to Tom and unfolded your notebook with a smile.

• Come on, excellent student, show me what you've got.

Tom didn't even turn around, continuing to fill out the test. His handwriting was perfect, the lines were even, the letters were clear. Just like him. Collected, correct, annoyingly smart.

• Maybe you should try it yourself at least once?

• Maybe, - you pretended to think about it, and then snorted. - No, not today.

He exhaled quietly and moved the sheet.

You're used to it. To Tom always helping you out. He doesn't laugh at your jokes, he doesn't join in on your adventures, but if you need to copy, he silently moves the sheet. If you get into trouble, he's there, as if he knew in advance.

You copied the answers, lazily twirling a strand of hair around your finger. The classroom was quiet, the only sound was the creaking of pens.

“Listen,” you poked him in the shoulder with your hand, “what if I ever decide to thank you?”

He didn't even turn around.

• Unlikely.

• Hey! - you were indignant, but he only bowed his head closer.

“If you want,” Tom whispered, “just try to decide something yourself at least once.”

You bit your lip and went back to cheating. He helped. Always.

• What if I decide to thank you? - poked him again.

Tom finally looked at you.

• Then surprise me.

— I can treat you to a chocolate bar from the machine.

• You don't carry money with you.

You grimaced.

• Okay, I can avoid driving you to a nervous breakdown for at least a day.

“That’s something,” he chuckled and looked back down at the test.

You suddenly put your notebook away and frowned, looking at the assignment.

“Okay, I’ll try to decide for myself,” you muttered.

Tom nodded.

• Start with the first one. I'll give you a hint if anything.

.