"Last semester, during midterms, the proctor was already at the door when she realized she forgot to pick up the test packets. I was the one who sprinted to the administrative office to grab them and hand them out myself."

With every word I said, the atmosphere on the bus grew heavier.

"Every time you praised this class for being so great, I was the one holding everything together behind the scenes. Every time you thought Ms. Ashby was being so 'thoughtful,' I was the one cleaning up her messes."

I stared at Ms. Ashby. The tears were still on her face, but her eyes had started darting around in panic.

"She started resenting me because of all of it. If finals weren't two months away, she would've stripped me of my class rep title a long time ago."

The bus fell completely silent. Caelum said nothing for a few seconds, then suddenly let out a laugh. "Are you done?"

He walked over, took my admission ticket, and looked up at me. "Dragging up all this old stuff is honestly pathetic. You're the class rep. Helping the teacher is literally your job.

"And what about all the other ways she goes above and beyond? How come you never mention any of that?"

He pulled his own admission ticket out of his pocket and tore off a small corner without a moment's hesitation.

"So what if it's torn? It's not a big deal." He held it up. "There. Now we're even."

The bus was quiet for about three seconds. Then, one by one, other students started moving.

"Yeah, seriously, it's not that deep."

"It's just a little tear. It's not like it won't work."

A male student sitting in front of me followed Caelum's lead and tore the corner off his own ticket. Then a second person did it, and a third.

The sound of ripping paper echoed through the bus one after another. I leaned back in my seat, stunned by how absurd it all was.

Pink paper and torn corners. They could all enjoy getting turned away at the exam hall doors for all I cared.

Right at that moment, Principal Elliot Jones boarded the bus for his routine inspection. He had barely stepped on before his eyes went wide.

"What on earth happened to your admission tickets?" He stormed up the aisle, his face livid. "Why are these admission tickets pink? And the edges are torn?"

He turned on Ms. Ashby. "Pauline!"

Ms. Ashby flinched and tucked her chin, but quickly straightened back up. "Principal Jones, don't be so harsh. I just wanted to help the students feel a little more relaxed."

"Relaxed?" Principal Jones was furious. "There are strict regulations for admission tickets. White background, black text, no modifications of any kind.

"Their tickets are the wrong color, and the security watermarks have been torn off. How exactly are they supposed to get into the exam hall?"

Ms. Ashby burst into tears on the spot, crouching down in the aisle and sobbing until she could barely breathe. "You're being mean to me again. Everything I do is for the students. I spent so long picking out the prettiest shade of pink…"

Then she suddenly looked up, her tear-filled eyes locking onto me. "She's the one who told on me, isn't she? You sent her to spy on me!"

Every pair of eyes on the bus snapped toward me at once. I sat back in my seat, expression blank, and said nothing.

Caelum was the first to stand, stepping in front of Ms. Ashby to shield her. "Principal Jones, you're going too far. Do you have any idea how much effort our teacher puts in? So what if they're pink? So what if there's a torn corner? We don't mind!"

The other students followed his lead.

"Yeah, we don't mind!"

"Who says admission tickets can't be pink?"

"We're the top class in the entire district. Who's going to stop us from taking the exam?"

Cheers and shouts of support erupted across the bus, every face flushed red. A few students stood up and half-shoved the principal toward the door.

Principal Jones was shaking with anger, but when he glanced at his watch, there was less than half an hour before the first exam started. The drive to the exam hall alone was 20 minutes, and there was simply no time left to argue.

"You just wait. I'm going back to the school to reprint the tickets, and I'll have them sent to you." He forced the words out through clenched teeth, then turned and stepped off the bus.

The moment the doors closed, the bus erupted in cheers.

"We won!"

"The principal totally backed down!"

Ms. Ashby got up from the aisle, wiped her tears, and broke into a smug grin. Caelum turned and held up his admission ticket, his voice dripping with contempt. "Who even wants his boring black and white version? We're using the ones our teacher gave us. The whole class agrees."

"Yeah, that's right!"

"The pink ones are way better. What does the principal know?"

"We're the top class. Who's going to stop us from taking the exam over something this small?"

He scoffed, and his gaze drifted over to me, casual but deliberate. I didn't look at him. I just quietly touched the black and white admission ticket tucked away in my jacket pocket.

I hoped they'd keep making a scene. The bigger, the better.

The bus pulled up to the exam hall, and a woman in an official proctor's uniform stepped on board.

"Class Seven, Senior Year? I'm the exam coordinator. I'll be checking your admission tickets, and then you'll exit the bus in order and proceed inside."

Ms. Ashby rushed up to her immediately, her voice sickeningly sweet. "Hi there! Take a look at our class's tickets. Aren't they beautiful? I printed them on pink paper specially for the kids."

She grabbed the admission ticket out of Caelum's hand and held it up to the proctor's face. The proctor took it, and her brow furrowed into a deep frown.

"Admission tickets for final exams are required to be printed on white paper with black text. No modifications of any kind. This one is pink, there are stickers on it, the edge is torn, and the security watermark is barely legible."

Ms. Ashby blinked. "But miss, I put so much love into these…"

Caelum spoke up too, his tone confrontational. "We happen to like the pink ones. What, you're going to stop us from taking the exam over a color?"

The proctor looked at him coolly. "Yes. Pink admission tickets are not permitted. Let me make this perfectly clear. Pink admission tickets do not meet regulations. If you continue to disrupt exam proceedings, I will call the police."

The moment those words landed, panic swept through the bus.

The academic rep, Liam Jagger, was the first to stand, his voice trembling. "Then what are we supposed to do? Didn't you say they'd be fine as long as they were printed?"

"Yeah, Ms. Ashby, didn't you say there wouldn't be a problem?"

Ms. Ashby's face went rigid. Her eyes darted around for a moment before landing squarely on me. "Sienna! You're the class rep. Why didn't you warn me? You knew admission tickets had to be black and white. This is your fault!"

I almost laughed from sheer disbelief. "Ms. Ashby, I did warn you. More than once. Last week, when you showed us the sample printout, I told you there were specific regulations for final exam tickets. White background, black text. You know what you said?"

I mimicked her voice. "'I think pink is prettier. You young people have no sense of style.'"

The bus went quiet for a beat.

"And then on Thursday, the admin office sent Mr. Watson over specifically to tell our class that the ticket format wasn't to be altered."

"You were right there when he said it, and you agreed and said, 'Got it, understood.' Then you turned around and printed them in pink anyway."

Ms. Ashby's face cycled between red and white.

Caelum saw her floundering and shot me a vicious glare. "Everyone, calm down! The principal is already on his way, remember? He went back to the school to reprint the tickets. He'll be here any minute!"

"Oh right, the principal went to get them reprinted."

"But… Will he make it in time?" someone asked in a small, trembling voice that was close to tears.

Caelum clenched his jaw. "He'll make it! You're still allowed into the exam hall up to 15 minutes after it starts. We have time. Don't panic!"

He sounded absolutely certain, but he couldn't stop himself from glancing out the window every few seconds.

The minutes crawled by. The crowd of parents and well-wishers outside the exam hall gradually thinned out as students from every other school filed inside. A suffocating tension filled the bus.

Some students had started to cry quietly. Others kept checking their watches over and over. A few were gripping their pink admission tickets so hard their knuckles had gone white. Ms. Ashby sat hunched in her seat, shooting me the occasional look filled with pure venom.

Finally, with less than three minutes left before the doors closed for good, a cab screeched to a halt outside the exam hall barricade. The door flew open and Principal Jones stumbled out, clutching a stack of crisp white papers as he sprinted toward the bus.

"They're here! The tickets are here!"

The bus exploded with cheers, and a few students jumped to their feet in excitement.

"Coming through! Move!"

Principal Jones was gasping for air as he reached the bus doors, and he was just about to step on when Ms. Ashby suddenly lurched to her feet.

"Wait!" She staggered down the steps and grabbed the stack of tickets from Principal Jones's arms. "We don't need these! We don't need your charity!"

Principal Jones froze. "Have you lost your mind? These are the students' admission tickets!"

Ms. Ashby's tears came flooding back. "I'm not accepting these! If I do, you'll all say I was wrong! I wasn't wrong! There's nothing wrong with pink!"

The two of them struggled over the papers at the foot of the bus. Principal Jones was drenched in sweat, terrified of tearing them but desperate to pull them free. "Let go! This is the future of thirty-nine students!"

"I don't need your charity! I'll prove that pink works just fi—" Ms. Ashby yanked hard, and her foot slipped, her skirt tangling around her ankles. Everyone only had time to watch her pitch backward.

A shriek rang out, and she toppled into the decorative fountain behind her, the entire stack of admission tickets clutched to her chest. By the time they pulled her out, every last ticket in her arms had been reduced to a soggy, disintegrating mess.

"My admission ticket!"

The proctor checked her watch and let out a sigh. "All examinees must present a valid admission ticket to enter. No exceptions."

"Then what happens to us? We can't take the exam? We've been preparing for 12 years!"

The bus dissolved into sobs. Ms. Ashby stared at the chaos around her, dazed, mumbling to herself. "I didn't want this to happen… I just didn't want to admit I was wrong… I wasn't wrong…"

In the middle of all the crying and the panic, I pulled out my admission ticket. "Excuse me. Am I cleared to go in?"