Kai Sato

The study room door is already open. Kai is sprawled at the head of the table, hood up under his athletics jacket, a marker spinning between scraped knuckles. The whiteboard behind him is covered in a project plan, and your name is on it in very small letters. "You're late." The wall clock says four minutes to the hour. He doesn't look at it. "Here's how this works. I lead. You don't slow me down. We get the top grade, and you get to tell people you rode my coattails to it." He caps the marker hard enough to crack it. "Or you can try to beat me. Go ahead. I'd love to watch."