Two weeks at HVIS, and I was officially a Section E survivor. C‑in had become my unofficial tour guide (and snack dealer), Drew's doodles were now on my notebook margins, and even Josh's pen‑tapping habit had grown on me like a weird soundtrack. Keifer, though? Still annoying. He teased me every chance he got—"Mariano, you're five minutes late again?" or "Nice ponytail, did it fight back?"—and I shot back every time. It was basically our thing now.
But today, Sir Alvin dropped a bomb.
"Group study session," he announced, adjusting his glasses as the bell rang. "Tomorrow night. At Keifer Watson's house. Everyone. No excuses."
Groans rippled through the classroom.
"Sir, Keifer's house?" Blaster whined. "That's like… a mansion. With rules."
"Exactly," Sir Alvin said. "Perfect study environment. Keifer, you're hosting."
Keifer just leaned back, unfazed. "Fine. Don't break anything."
I raised my hand. "Sir, can we bring food?"
He chuckled. "Jay, it's a study session, not a picnic."
"Study food counts," I said. "Brain fuel."
"Bring whatever. Just study."
As everyone packed up, C‑in leaned over. "Dude, Keifer's house is insane. Pool, game room, home theatre. But his dad's strict, so no messing around."
"Great," Jare muttered from beside me. "Can't wait to be judged by Watson senior."
Jane elbowed him. "Behave. It's an opportunity."
"Opportunity to nap," I whispered.
Keifer walked past, pausing by my desk. "Try not to eat the furniture, Mariano."
"Try not to boss us around, Watson," I fired back.
He smirked and left. Annoying king.
The next evening, we piled out of a mix of taxis and family cars in front of the Watson mansion. It wasn't a house—it was a palace. Marble steps, fountains, a driveway longer than my street back home. Lights glowed from every window.
"Holy…" Drew breathed.
"Welcome to rich people problems," C‑in said, ringing the doorbell.
Keifer opened the door himself, wearing a casual black shirt and jeans. Still looked annoyingly perfect. "Inside. Shoes off."
We shuffled in, kicking off sneakers into a pile that looked hilariously small next to their giant shoe rack. The foyer alone was bigger than our living room. Marble floors, chandelier, artwork on the walls.
"Upstairs," Keifer said. "Study room."
We followed him up a wide staircase lined with family photos—Keifer grinning with a basketball, Keigan in a suit looking too serious, little Keiren making a funny face. Serina and Keizer smiled in a few, looking powerful but warm.
The study room was massive: long table, bookshelves to the ceiling, whiteboards, even a mini fridge. Windows overlooked a garden with a pool that sparkled under string lights.
"Wow," Jane whispered.
"Sit," Keifer said, pointing. "Math first. Sir Alvin said review chapters 5‑8."
We spread out—me next to C‑in and Drew, Jare and Jane across, the others scattered. Keigan appeared with a tray of drinks, all polite and mature. "Water? Juice?"
"Thanks," I said, taking one.
Keifer sat at the head of the table like, well, a king. "Let's start. Who's stuck on quadratic equations?"
Hands went up. Even I raised mine. Math hated me.
Keifer explained it slowly, surprisingly patient. His voice was clear, no rush. I actually got it. His face was so handsome his jawline - wait Jay what are you talking about
Then disaster struck.
"Snack break!" I announced after 45 minutes, pulling out my bag of chips.
"Jay," Keifer warned.
"Brain fuel!" C‑in backed me up, grabbing a handful.
Drew started a chip‑eating contest. Josh drummed on the table. Blaster blasted music from his phone.
Keifer pinched his nose. "This is why I don't host."
Footsteps.
Keizer Watson appeared in the doorway, tall and serious in a suit. "Everything alright?"
We froze. Chips mid‑air.
"Yes, Dad," Keifer said quickly. "Just… reviewing."
Keizer's eyes scanned us, landing on me with a chip halfway to my mouth. " Jay ?"
I swallowed. "Sir?"
"Enjoying the session?"
"Y‑yes, sir. Very… educational."
He nodded, almost smiling. "Good. Carry on."
He left. We exhaled. I felt like I knew him
"Close one," Rory whispered.
Keifer glared. "No more snacks."
But then C‑in found the mini fridge. "Sodas!"
Chaos resumed. Somehow, between laughing, arguing over answers, and Keifer yelling "focus!", we actually got work done. Keigan popped in with fruits later, and even little Keiren sneaked up to watch, giggling at our mess.
By 7 PM, books closed, high‑fives exchanged.
"Not bad," Keifer admitted as we packed up. "Even you, Mariano."
"High praise from the king," I teased.
He rolled his eyes but smiled—just a little.
To be continued…