“There he is! We had a bet on how long it would take you to come in,” Wyatt teased.

  Tariq sighed mentally. There were only four people in the classroom, including him—and he knew all of them, at least on a surface level. Wyatt was loud and rambunctious, something he mainly attributed to his height and what he proudly called short man syndrome.

  Tariq gave a halfhearted smile before turning and walking toward the back of the class.

  “A man of few words, as always,” another voice chimed in.

  That voice belonged to Daniel, a rich kid who made sure everyone knew it. His parents were the co-owners of some kind of equity firm—not that Tariq cared.

  As Tariq slid his backpack off his shoulders and sat down, he rested his chin in his palm and began to daydream.

  “Pompous motherfucker…” he heard Wyatt mutter.

  There it was. Tariq wasn’t much for conversation. He hated talking to people—it made him anxious. Combine that with his terrible social awkwardness, and people tended to think the worst of him.

  “We heard that, Wyatt. You know the only person he likes to talk to is Zora,” Abemi said, coming to his defense as she turned and smiled at Tariq.

  Abemi was a transfer student from Uganda. She’d tried multiple times to talk to Tariq in the past, but every attempt ended the same way: Tariq standing there awkwardly, unsure of what to say.

  Tariq nodded back at her as Wyatt waved her off. Silence returned as everyone went back to doing their own thing.

  Then it happened.

  A sound like a drum echoed through the air, causing Tariq to jump. At first there was only one, then another—and then more. It was as if hundreds of people were beating drums at different rhythms all at once.

  Tariq clamped his hands over his ears, trying to muffle the noise, but it did nothing. It was just as loud.

  What the hell is this!? he screamed in his mind.

  Then, just as suddenly as it started, it stopped.

  “Tariq?”

  Lifting his head and looking around, Tariq realized the classroom was now practically full.

  “Tariq, are you feeling okay?” Professor Langley asked from the front of the room.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  His mind whirred as he tried to process what had just happened. Was he losing his mind?

  “Y-Yeah, I’m fine,” he said clearing his throat.

  She nodded. “Good. I wouldn’t want one of my best students sick on the first day,” she chirped with a smile.

  “Did you all know he was the first student I ever gave an A-plus to?”

  Embarrassment crept up Tariq’s spine. She did this every single time he was in one of her classes.

  “Of course, Zora got an A-plus right after—but he was the one who started it all,” she added with a sigh.

  Everyone turned to stare at Tariq as he sank lower in his chair.

  Please make it stop… he silently begged.

  Professor Langley chuckled. “Speaking of Zora, she won’t be here to save you from me this time, Tariq, so you’d better be prepared.”

  He nodded. Satisfied, she turned to the chalkboard.

  “Excellent! Let’s get started!”

  Tariq reached into his backpack and pulled out his notebook and pen.

  “Welcome to Space-Time and Solutions,” she began. “In this course, we’ll mainly be talking about Schwarzschild, Kerr, and FLRW—or cosmology, for those of you whose brains turned to mush over the summer.”

  A few chuckles followed. Professor Langley was one of the toughest—but also one of the fairest—professors in the physics department. She loved what she taught, and she loved teaching it.

  As the lecture continued, Tariq’s notebook slowly filled with dates and assignments he’d later transfer into his calendar.

  “Okay! Now that the boring stuff is out of the way, let’s get into it!” she exclaimed, pointing at Tariq. “Tell me—what exactly does Schwarzschild have to do with physics?”

  His heart pounded as he cleared his throat.

  “U-uh… Schwarzschild gave us his metric and radius,” he said. “B-both are used to understand gravity, spacetime, and bla—black hole formation.”

  She nodded. “Good.”

  “Now, I know all of you have heard of it before, but this class is a deep dive. We’ll be studying—”

  The drums returned.

  Louder.

  They drowned out every other sound.

  Tariq shot to his feet.

  “TARIQ? ARE YOU OKAY?” Professor Langley shouted.

  “Too loud… it’s too loud!” Tariq said, stumbling for the door. He tripped over bags and desks, slamming into it as he reached for the handle and yanked it open.

  He knew this building like the back of his hand, and there was one place that was always the quietest—the bathroom down the hall.

  Hands pressed over his ears, he ran, eyes frantically searching until they landed on the blue sign. He shoved the door open and staggered inside, finding the stall farthest from the entrance.

  His hands shook as he locked the door behind him. Even here, the drums didn’t relent—if anything, it sounded like more had been added.

  Tariq sat on the toilet, head hanging down, hands clamped over his ears.

  After what felt like hours, the stall door flew open, slamming against the wall. The noise only intensified.

  Looking up, Tariq saw Zora staring at him, concern etched across her face.

  “TARIQ, WHAT’S GOING ON?” she asked.

  “Please… Z… stop shouting,” he begged, raising a hand.

  She tilted her head. “SHOUTING? IM NOT SHOUTING.”

  Tariq grit his teeth. His eardrums felt like they were going to burst.

  Then he felt a hand on his shoulder.

  The drums vanished instantly.

  Lowering his hands, Tariq looked up at Zora.

  “What’s going on with you, Tariq?” she asked.

  He had no answer. He didn’t understand what was happening, and he didn’t know how to explain it.

  “H-How did you know I was in here?” he asked.

  Zora grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the stall. “Abemi texted me saying you were acting weird. Also, where else would you go, the library's too far.” she chuckled

  She smiled as she led him to a bench a few feet outside the door.

  Tariq sat down and pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling Zora sit beside him.

  “Talk to me, T. What’s going on?”

  Tariq sighed, staring at the floor.

  “I don’t know…”