
Later that evening, Joan arrived home to find Tim sprawled on the living room floor, surrounded by an array of comic books and sketching materials. He looked up as she entered, a pencil tucked behind his ear.
"Hey, sis," he greeted her. "How was your day?"
Joan dropped her backpack and flopped onto the couch with a dramatic sigh. "Oh, you know. The usual. Argumentative classmates, rude customers, the joys of being a grad student slash pizza artisan."
Tim chuckled. "Sounds thrilling. Want to take your mind off it?" He held up a half-finished sketch of a superhero. "I could use some input on my latest creation."
Joan leaned forward, intrigued. She and Tim had always bonded over their shared love of comics and art, though she'd never had his talent for drawing. "Ooh, who's this? New character?"
Tim nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, I'm calling her 'Psych-Out.' She's a psychology student by d


Later that evening, Joan arrived at Miles Pizza for her shift, still feeling down about her quiz performance. Her mood didn't improve when she saw the chaos inside the restaurant.
Mike, her manager, looked frazzled as he rushed to greet her. "Joan, thank goodness you're here. We're seriously understaffed tonight. Two people called in sick, and it's busier than usual."
Joan tied on her apron, already feeling overwhelmed. "Okay, where do you need me?"
"Everywhere," Mike said with a grimace. "Can you start on register and then jump to pizza prep when there's a lull?"
Joan nodded, steeling herself for a hectic night. For the next few hours, she was in constant motion - taking orders, making change, tossing pizza dough, and trying to keep up with the never-ending stream of customers.
Just when she thought things couldn't get more chaotic, disaster struck in the kitchen. Joan was reaching for


A week later, Joan found herself rushing across campus, her backpack bouncing uncomfortably against her spine as she sprinted towards the psychology building. She'd stayed up late again working on her statistics assignment, and her alarm had failed to wake her.
"Not again," she muttered, checking her watch as she burst through the doors. She was already five minutes late.
Joan slipped into the classroom as quietly as she could, but Professor Winters paused mid-sentence to fix her with a disapproving stare.
"Nice of you to join us, Ms. Keppler," he said dryly. "Please take a seat."
Joan mumbled an apology and slid into the nearest empty chair, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. As she fumbled to get her notebook out, she caught Lisa's eye across the room. The other girl smirked and mouthed "Typical" before turning back to face the front.
Professor Winters cleared his throat. "As I was saying, your next assignment will be a group project. You'll be working in teams of four to develop a comprehensive research proposal on a topic of your choosing within the field of cognitive psychology."
A ripple of excitement went through the class. Group projects were rare in graduate-level courses, and many students welcomed the chance to collaborate.
"I've already assigned the groups," Professor Winters continued, holding up a sheet of paper. "When I call your name, please move to sit with your team members."
Joan listened anxiously as the professor read out the names. She silently prayed not to be paired with Lisa, but as the list went on and neither of their names had been called, she felt a sense of dread growing in the pit of her stomach.
Finally, Professor Winters reached the last group. "And for our final team: Joan Keppler, Lisa Chen, Michael Dawson, and Samantha Lee."
Joan's heart sank. She looked over at Lisa, who seemed equally displeased by this turn of events. Reluctantly, Joan gathered her things and moved to join Michael and Samantha, who were already sitting together near the back of the room.
Lisa approached the group last, her expression a mixture of annoyance and resignation. "Well," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "isn't this going to be fun?"
Michael, a soft-spoken guy with glasses, tried to break the tension. "Hey, I think we could make a great team. We all have different strengths, right?"
Samantha nodded enthusiastically. "Definitely! I was thinking we could focus on memory formation and retrieval. What do you guys think?"
Before Joan could respond, Lisa cut in. "That's a bit basic, don't you think? We should tackle something more challenging if we want to impress Professor Winters."
Joan felt her patience wearing thin. "Memory formation is a complex topic with a lot of recent research. I think it's a great idea, Samantha."
Lisa rolled her eyes. "Of course you'd think so. Always going for the easy option, aren't you, Joan?"
"What's that supposed to mean?" Joan snapped, her voice rising slightly.
Michael looked between them nervously. "Uh, maybe we should all take a moment to calm down and—"
"It means," Lisa interrupted, ignoring Michael, "that some of us are here to challenge ourselves and push the boundaries of psychological research. Others seem content to coast by on the bare minimum."
Joan felt her face flush with anger. "You don't know anything about how hard I work or what I'm capable of, Lisa. Just because I have responsibilities outside of class doesn't mean I'm not dedicated to my studies."
Lisa leaned back in her chair, a smug expression on her face. "Oh, please. We all have responsibilities. Some of us just manage them better than others. Maybe if you spent less time flipping burgers and more time studying, you wouldn't be struggling so much."
That was the last straw for Joan. She stood up abruptly, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. "You know what, Lisa? Your attitude is exactly why no one wants to work with you. You think you're so much better than everyone else, but all you do is tear people down to make yourself feel superior."
Lisa's eyes widened in shock, clearly not expecting such a direct confrontation. "How dare you—"
"Is there a problem here?" Professor Winters' voice cut through their argument. The entire class had fallen silent, watching the drama unfold.
Joan took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. "No, Professor. We were just... discussing project ideas."
Professor Winters raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing her. "I see. Well, I suggest you continue your 'discussion' in a more productive manner. Remember, your grade depends on how well you work together as a team."
As the professor walked away, Joan sank back into her chair, avoiding eye contact with her teammates. The rest of the class passed in tense silence, with only Michael occasionally attempting to restart the conversation about their project.
When class finally ended, Joan rushed out of the room, her mind already shifting to her upcoming work shift. She'd have to figure out how to deal with Lisa later. For now, she had pizzas to make and customers to serve.
The lunch rush at Miles Pizza was in full swing when Joan arrived. She tied on her apron and jumped right in, taking orders and prepping ingredients with practiced efficiency. Despite the chaos, she found the work oddly soothing after the stress of her morning class.
About an hour into her shift, a middle-aged man in a crisp business suit approached the counter. Joan put on her best customer service smile. "Welcome to Miles Pizza. What can I get for you today, sir?"
The man barely glanced at her, his eyes fixed on his smartphone. "Large pepperoni, thin crust. And make it snappy. Some of us have real jobs to get back to."
Joan felt a flicker of irritation but kept her voice pleasant. "Certainly, sir. That'll be $12.99. Would you like to add any sides or drinks to your order?"
The man looked up from his phone, his expression annoyed. "Did I ask for sides or drinks? Just get me my pizza. And it better not take forever like last time."
Joan bit her tongue, remembering her previous write-up. "Of course, sir. We'll have that ready for you as quickly as possible."
As she turned to put in the order, she heard the man mutter, "Useless. Can't even take a simple order without trying to upsell."
Joan's hands clenched into fists, but she forced herself to take a deep breath. She wouldn't let this jerk get to her. Instead, an idea began to form in her mind.
She approached her coworker, Alex, who was working the pizza oven. "Hey, Alex," she said in a low voice. "You know how you always put way too much cheese on the pizzas?"
Alex grinned sheepishly. "Yeah, Mike's always getting on my case about it. Why?"
Joan nodded towards the businessman, who was now loudly complaining to another customer about the "incompetent staff." "Think you could dial it up to eleven on his pizza? Extra, extra cheesy?"
Alex's eyes lit up with understanding. "Oh, absolutely. One cheese bomb coming right up."
As Alex prepared the pizza, Joan caught Sam's eye at the drink station. She mimed writing something, and Sam nodded, catching on quickly.
When the pizza was ready, Sam grabbed a marker and scrawled "Have a GRATE day!" on the box, complete with a cheesy (pun intended) smiley face.
Joan called out the order number, and the businessman stomped up to the counter. "About time," he grumbled.
"Here you go, sir," Joan said, her voice sickeningly sweet. "One large pepperoni pizza, extra cheesy, just for you. We hope you have a absolutely wonderful day."
The man snatched the box from her hands and stormed out without another word. As soon as the door closed behind him, the entire staff burst into laughter.
"Oh man," Alex chuckled, wiping tears from his eyes. "His face when he opens that box is going to be priceless."
Joan high-fived her coworkers, feeling a sense of satisfaction. She hadn't stooped to the man's level or risked her job, but she'd found a way to stand up for herself and her colleagues. It was a small victory, but it felt good.

Later that evening, Joan arrived home to find Tim sprawled on the living room floor, surrounded by an array of comic books and sketching materials. He looked up as she entered, a pencil tucked behind his ear.
"Hey, sis," he greeted her. "How was your day?"
Joan dropped her backpack and flopped onto the couch with a dramatic sigh. "Oh, you know. The usual. Argumentative classmates, rude customers, the joys of being a grad student slash pizza artisan."
Tim chuckled. "Sounds thrilling. Want to take your mind off it?" He held up a half-finished sketch of a superhero. "I could use some input on my latest creation."
Joan leaned forward, intrigued. She and Tim had always bonded over their shared love of comics and art, though she'd never had his talent for drawing. "Ooh, who's this? New character?"
Tim nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, I'm calling her 'Psych-Out.' She's a psychology student by day, mind-reading superhero by night."
Joan raised an eyebrow. "Gee, I wonder where you got that

CHAPTER SIX – SCHOOL SUCKS