As the end-of-term grades became public, anticipation buzzed through Bailey High. The results, prominently displayed on the main noticeboard, held a mix of hope and anxiety for many students, although several absented themselves—Illness, such as a heavy flu, was a common reason, as in Amy's case.

Anna volunteered to collect Amy's report card. The moment before the designated meeting time arrived, Mr. Smith—a usually meticulous teacher—was nowhere to be seen, which gave students liberty to gather eagerly around the noticeboard. Some, too apprehensive or resigned to seek their results, remained in classrooms, pleading for reassurances from their peers.

Anna felt tremors in her knees while sitting at her desk, nerves getting the better of her. Jessica, however, fortified by her confidence, dallied unhurriedly before checking.

Tom, who had placed a bet with Anna, sauntered by her spot with a teasing remark: "You can't avoid it forever. Might as well learn the verdict early."

Anna retorted with a stubborn defiance, "Who says I'm going to lose!"

As she resolutely stood to confront the scoreboard, a boy dashed into the room—a fast-talker nicknamed "Monkey." His expression was one of utter disbelief as he shouted, "Wow! Our class's dark horse made it into the top fifteen! Incredible... so..."

With Anna in his line of sight, his exclamations faltered.

As Anna processed the surprising achievement, dumbfounding silence engulfed the class. She couldn’t believe that she, who had always lagged behind academically, had ascended to near the pinnacle of their cohort.

The shared disbelief spun around: Surely, this couldn’t be real.

Tom quickly masked his surprise with a smile, "Congrats."

Anna, still shell-shocked, managed a quiet “Thank you,” her heart pounding in her chest. Such an unexpected triumph felt too surreal until Mr. Smith finally delivered the report card himself, his face lighting up with approving praise, "Remarkable job, Anna!"

A wave of relief washed over her—a recognition that doubled as her own. The moment Mr. Smith declared the start of the summer break, Anna clutched her report with zeal, sprinting toward her home, the warm summer breeze unraveling the tendrils of her uniform in her wake. Sweat glistened on her brow as she entered the garden to find Aunt Dorothy pulling weeds. Her excitement bubbled over, "I have to call Uncle William!"

Aunt Dorothy followed her closely. "Grades out already?"

Anna triumphantly brandished the report, "Straight A's across the board!"

Aunt Dorothy praised, "Excellent work, child—you’ve made Uncle William and Professor Blake proud. Professor Blake's at the office. Wait for him to return before making your call."

Suppressing ballooning excitement, Anna spied another report card in her grip, darting towards Amy's home to hand-deliver it.

Amy opened the door, dressed in casual summer attire and looking slightly pale.

"Your report card." Anna stated plainly.

Amy studied Anna’s face with lingering uncertainty. Since that vivid dream about Anna, Amy had consistently distanced herself from her, uneasy about the prospect of forming an emotional attachment with someone she might unrealistically idealize.

“Are you feeling better?” Anna inquired innocently, reaching for Amy's hand as though to check her temperature.

Startled, Amy recoiled as if electrified.

Understanding Amy's aversion to close contact, Anna withdrew, offering the report card while pivoting the conversation. "Guess how I did?"

The answer was etched on Anna's beaming face, but Amy found herself affected by Anna’s enthusiasm, feigning ignorance with a slight shake of her head.

"Tada!" Anna flashed her report card, "All A's!"

Holding her report joyously, Anna inhaled deeply, savoring the intoxicating scent of freshly printed ink. It filled her with a childlike satisfaction, nose crinkling, eyes crinkled into crescents, "Happy!"

Amy absorbed every nuance of Anna’s expressions, insatiable curiosity brimming in her eyes.

Despite her wariness of such newfound vulnerability, Amy could not resist the silent pull.

“Uncle William promised he’d visit if I got top grades!” Anna exclaimed, her delight impossible to conceal, outshining her prior acts.

Pangs of discomfort pierced Amy’s sense of serenity—envy intertwined with her desire to dismantle that joy Anna reserved for Uncle William.

“Why so quiet?” Anna’s concern broke through. “Is your flu that bad?”

She managed to coax Amy toward the bed, suggesting, “You should really rest if you’re unwell.”

Opening the window, sunlight streamed through, mildly blinding Amy, who shielded her eyes; Anna stood radiant against the frame.

Amy felt her heart skip slightly—a wave of suffocating breathlessness tightening her chest.

"Leave," she insisted, pointing to the door with finality.

Confounded by what she assumed was unprovoked anger, Anna muttered compliance, turning to depart.

"Wait!" Amy's call arrested her movement.

Confusion clouded Anna’s thoughts.

Amy stepped closer, imposing as she towered over Anna, her stern words enveloping the gap between them, “Your grades have improved. No need to study at my place anymore.”

The dismissal slice sharply. Anna responded meekly, “Got it.”

What she thought was friendship crumbled in mere moments; Amy appeared keen to disband the bond sooner than later.

Heart on the verge of tears, Anna resolved never to need Amy’s approval again—studying wouldn’t require Amy’s judgment. She stormed home, cheeks flush with vexation.

Stillness took hold of the room. Sunlight through gauzy curtains cast a mosaic of light upon the floor. Amy stepped into its path, silently watching Anna's diminuating figure until it disappeared.

She stood fixedly, welcoming the night’s arrival without consciousness of time; a lone sentinel echoing the silent vigilance of ancient marble soldiers—stalwart yet void of vitality.

Old Henry, following Amy's grandfather's request, ascended to call Amy down for dinner. Observing her statue-like stillness, he wordlessly retraced his steps, reporting back anxiously, “Sir, Miss Amy's like a statue at the window again!”

“Like last time?” Amy’s grandfather hurried upstairs.

Henry nodded—memories surfacing of years prior when Amy had frozen over the departure of her parents.

After exhausting every effort to connect with her, emotions unsurfaced as she sat paralyzed until dehydration sent her to the hospital. In frail convalescence, with the candor only pain grants, she had mustered in a cracked voice, “Did Mom and Dad really leave me?”

Never had Amy’s grandfather, a stoic throughout his life, allowed tears brim forth until then—uttering gentle assurances that adults bear responsibilities beyond family, words Amy would learn to comprehend with age.

Upon her discharge, life drained from Amy’s gaze, childlike buoyancy replaced by guarded isolation—a countermeasure her grandfather knew he couldn't unravel.

Since Amy’s close call with oblivion, her grandfather harbored dread of witnessing her ensnared by that same unyielding posture.

Upon reaching her room, there was relief—Amy was dutifully seated, engrossed in reading.

Exchanging baffled glances with Henry, under breath he muttered, “But a moment ago, she was...”

Amy twisted, a smirk curving one lip, “Do you still think I’m four or five?”

Her grandfather swallowed his unease. "I was just worried, dear."

Stowing away her book, Amy remarked, “Once, youth limited my actions. Now, there’s nothing the world can offer that I need to relive.”

The language of ghosts bashed into their apprehension—wariness oppressive; old fears warned against Amy unveiling fresh rebellion.

An uneventful month elapsed—yet Amy’s obedience stood at odds with prior defiance, evoking shadows behind her grandfather's fretful ease.

To dull tension, he proposed an array of summer trips; domestic or international, any destination of her choosing.

Out of his sight, in the paint-strewn studio, Amy declined outwardly.

The floor bore vivid marks, a gallery of attempts. Her grandfather lingered behind, humbled, appraising what his crudeness failed to decipher—a polished attempt to bridge their conversational abyss.

“Two-Eight,” he ventured into unfamiliar territory, “The woman’s back in your painting—mysterious art?”

Amy overwhelmed a brush tip in scarlet pigment, dragging fiery marks across a faceless perspective. “Not mysterious.”

“Why not reveal her face, then?”

“She has none.”

When once she'd painted landscapes teeming with life, now this faceless specter haunted her canvas. Her grandfather swallowed dismay—did her artistry fare into darker avenues?

Worn down, he descended—conversations muddled by enigma never yielded results.

***

Contrary to Amy’s emotional turmoil, Anna had restless nights filled with hope and longing. Breathlessly, she shared the triumphant news of her exams with Uncle William, who pledged a return within a month.

Excitement pervaded the entire Blake household. Uncle William’s eminent visit invigorated preparations: his mother ensuring every corner of the home was pristine; her eager bustle mirrored a spirit of reunion.

The only member who found himself reflective was Professor Blake, inconsolably befuddled by quick-won academic improvement.

“Professor Blake,” Anna’s voice chirped descending the staircase, “There’ll be an award ceremony at the start of term—parents are invited!”

“An award?” he brightened.

“Of course!” Anna nodded enthusiastically, "Mr. Smith says I'll receive the 'Most Improved’ honors."

“Marvelous!” His esteem matched her euphoria.

From upstairs, the cheerful command called again, “Blake, dearly, could you grab a ladder? I need help with these hard-to-reach spots.”

Amidst this lively whirlwind, efforts melded seamlessly. On the day of Uncle William’s arrival, visibly calm exteriors barely concealed vibrantly racing hearts, which truly came alive at the sight of him—untouched by time in an elegant white shirt, black trousers, and trailing luggage, striding towards them.

Anna, brimming with joy beyond words, stopped right before him. Uncle William affectionately ruffled her hair, smiling softly, "You've grown taller."

Afraid she'd dissolve into tears if she spoke, she merely nodded.

Nearby, Professor Blake's parents watched, their gazes seldom breaking from their returning son, devouring each detail.

“Dad, Mom,” Uncle William enfolded his mother in a shoulder embrace, eyes scanning both she and Professor Blake, before returning their gaze on Anna, “Let’s head home.”

In an instant, that quietly accumulated, longed-for family reunion tangled nostalgia through their sinews, drawing shared tears they were scarcely conscious of suppressing.