Sonorous Silence

Ivy's POV:-

People say classrooms are noisy, but to me, they're loud in a way that doesn't include me. The scrap of benches, the outburst of laughter, the inside jokes shared amongst the students - I sit in my corner last bench being invisible to everyone present in the classroom, like a ghost no one bothers to see. And honestly? I actually prefer it that way.

Being invisible comes to me naturally, it's like even I'm not sure I exist. So it doesn't hurt when others do that to me. I've heard the names they whisper behind my back: Ice Queen. Statue. Miss Moody. Arrogant. They start to sting less when you stop caring. Or maybe I just got good at pretending.

My book lay open in front of my desk, but I wasn't reading. I never am.

The whispered chatter of other students in the classroom continues while Mrs. James, our Literature teacher rambled about the depth that poetry holds. I doubt anyone is actually listening, but that doesn't stop her.

It's only when the word group assignment left her mouth, the whole class fell silent before continuing about who will pair up with who. It's also the thing that left me in dread when Mrs James announced, she will the one assigning the groups.

Mrs. James flips through the class roster like choosing names for sacrificial ritual. My stomach knots.

She starts calling out pairs. Names bounce around the room, followed by burst of chatter and groans. The usual.

Then I hear it.

"Ivy Grace......and Liam Rivers."

There it is — the universe’s idea of a joke.

I don’t look up, but I feel it. The collective shift of the class, the silent ooooh humming beneath the surface. Everyone knows Leo Rivers. Loud, sunny, impossible-to-ignore Leo. The walking human version of a golden retriever.

Someone like who I will ignore daily. I don't like loud and loud person. He's exactly that.

And now he’s heading toward me.

“Hey there, mystery girl,” he says, sliding into the seat beside me with an exaggerated flourish. “Looks like we are in this together".

I say nothing. Just turn the page of my book — the one I’m not reading — and hope he gets the message.

He doesn't.

“Don’t worry,” he continues, resting his chin in his hand like he’s settling in for a show. “I’m an excellent group project partner. Great ideas, passable handwriting, and I bring snacks if you don’t insult me.”

Silence.

“Okay, tough crowd.” He leans closer. “Just blink twice if you're secretly thrilled about this.”

I finally look up.

“I don’t blink on command.”

He laughs. Actually laughs. Like I told a joke.

“Alright. Challenge accepted.”

I already regret setting foot in the class today.

*******************************************************************************************

Liam's POV:-

The hallways echoed with noise, but it didn’t bother me. In fact, I welcomed the chaos. It was something I reveled in- something that soothed me , yet set my soul alight.

By the time I made it to Literature, the usual roar of the classroom was already in full swing: chairs scraping, laughter bubbling, half-whispered jokes. All of it stitched together into a kind of music I’d grown addicted to.

Except for her.

Ivy Grace sat at her usual spot, last bench, book open like a shield she didn’t even bother pretending to read. I wasn’t the only one who noticed her, but I might’ve been the only one who looked past the labels people slapped on her. Ice Queen. Statue. Arrogant. Please. That wasn’t arrogance—it was armor.

So when Mrs. James started rattling off names for group assignments, I wasn’t exactly listening—until I heard mine.

“Ivy Grace… and Liam Rivers.”

I grinned. The universe had a sense of humor after all.

The class hummed with silent oooohs and smirks, but I barely registered them. My eyes were already on Ivy. She didn’t flinch, didn’t look up. She might as well have been made of stone.

Which only made me more determined.

Sliding into the seat next to her, I couldn’t resist laying it on thick. “Hey there, mystery girl,” I said, throwing in a flourish like I was stepping onstage. “Looks like we’re in this together.”

Page turn. Not even a flicker of acknowledgment. Brutal.

Did I back off? Of course not.

“Don’t worry,” I said, settling in like I had all day. “I’m an excellent group project partner. Great ideas, passable handwriting, and I bring snacks if you don’t insult me.”

Nothing.

I leaned in, lowering my voice. “Just blink twice if you’re secretly thrilled about this.”

Finally, she looked at me. Cool, sharp. “I don’t blink on command.”

I laughed, loud enough for her to know I wasn’t faking it.

And just like that—I was hooked.