CHAPTER FIVE: A room full of eyes

The classroom went quiet the moment I stepped in.

Not the respect reserved for teachers, but the silence of judgment.Sharp glances, and disgust hung in the air like something stale.

I took my seat without hurry and stared out the window. I  didn’t open my  notebook. I didn’t bother pretending to listen.

Lucinda arrived a few minutes later.

And I watched as everyone in the class tried to help her with one thing or another.She laughed softly, practiced and sweet, the picture of grace.she was the school beauty for a reason.

Her eyes flicked to me.

Surprise.

When the teacher,Mr Hawthorn entered the class, the helping students all ran to their sit. 

Mr. Hawthorne began his lecture. His voice methodical and dull. I drift—not out of disrespect, but disinterest. I had already learned this. Twice, if I count my past life.

I felt his stare before he spoke.

“Miss Sheraphina.”

I turned .

“Do you find my lesson unworthy of your attention?” he askso coolly.

A ripple of laughter passes through the class.

“I was thinking,” I replied.

“Is that so?” He tapped the board sharply with his eyes raised “Then perhaps you’d like to share those thoughts with us.”

He wrote a complex problem on the board—long, layered, intentionally difficult.

Lucinda pressed her lips together, concern flickering across her face. Just enough to be seen.

I stood and studied the board calmly .

“The assumption is wrong,” I said.

Mr. Hawthorne stiffened . “Explain.”

“The variable you’re treating as constant isn’t stable under these conditions,” I continued. “So the conclusion you’re guiding them toward won’t hold.”

 murmurs spread through the room.

I stepped forward and took the chalk when he didn’t  stop me. I rewrote the problem—efficient, precise. The solution unfolds cleanly.

When I stepped back, the board told the truth for me.

Mr. Hawthorne stared at it longer than necessary.

Then he cleared his throat.

“…That is correct,” he said finally.

There’s something else in his eyes now—not irritation, but surprise. Interest.

“An advanced observation,” he added reluctantly. “Most students wouldn’t catch that.”

The room shifted.

Whispers turn curious.

I returned to my seat.

Lucinda clapped softly.

“Big Sister,” she said warmly, “I had no idea you were this capable. You always seemed so quiet before.”

“I hope,” she added gently, “that now people won’t misunderstand you the way I did.”

The class hesitates.

I met her gaze briefly.

“I wasn’t paying attention,” I said simply. “Because the explanation was wrong.”

A sharp inhale passes through the room.

Mr. Hawthorne coughed . “That will be all, Miss Sheraphina.”

But his tone had changed.

When he resumed teaching, his explanations were more careful. More precise.

And once—just once—he glanced in my direction with something that looks very much like respect.

Lucinda noticed.

Her fingers tighten around her pen.

Green tea girls can tolerate many things.

But not admiration they didn’t earn.

And I have just become something she can’t ignore.

From the corner of my eyes I saw her typing something on her phone. She looked up at me, caught my eyes and smiled, not her usual poised smile but the type that shows that she is planning something. 

Before I could think , she stood up, raised her hand and took an excuse to use the restroom.

Then she slipped right in front of me, and gave a dramatic yelp of pain . 

I looked up at her and looked back down without showing any intention to help her up. I heard someone gasp behind me while another person helped her up . 

A classmate who I later got to know as Bella stood in front of me looking so angry, she was about to say something when Mr Hawthorn called the class back to order . 

Bella stomped her feet and left in anger