Baca Ln Classroom Of The Elite Novels & Stories

"It’s not worth it. He’s just looking for attention." ​"He's looking for a hospital bed," Jax snapped. "Look at him, Chloe. He’s staring at you." ​POV: Elias ​I could feel her panic from across the room. It was like a physical heat radiating off the "Elite Table." ​I sat down at a table right in the center of the room—neutral ground. I didn't have a tray. I didn't have a book. I just had the gold. ​"Hey, Elias," a girl from my Lit class whispered, her eyes wide. "Are you... okay? You’re sitting in the senior section."

But under Elena's gaze, he couldn't bring himself to refuse. He could only nod helplessly. Elena hurried out the door to catch the bus. Shaun wanted his driver to take her, but she declined, and he didn't insist. Brightsun Elite High School. Elena jogged all the way to her classroom. As soon as she stepped inside, she noticed some unusual glances. When she looked over, her classmates quickly lowered their heads, as if trying to hide something. Elena didn't pay much attention. She calmly walked to her seat and sat down.

Patricia said. The classroom was on the third floor, north-facing. Elena saw this when she walked in and felt something move through her that she filed for later — the north light, the same north light, finding her even here, even away from the penthouse and the room on the third floor and all of it. As if it was the one consistent thing in the current composition of her life. Sixteen students.

Oscar looked. She was right. Anyone who truly wanted to be on time was already inside. The ones arriving now had calculated it to the minute. Any sudden burst of speed was just for show, proof they were not slacking. "I see." He let his shoulders drop and fell into the crowd's natural drift. It felt new to him. They found the classroom. Students read aloud at their desks, classical literature mingling with foreign-language passages. Rebecca steered Oscar into a seat and dropped down beside him. "Quick, get your textbooks out. The teacher will be here any second."

Elena said with a small laugh as she nudged my shoulder. “I am terrified.” “You’ll survive.” “I hope so.” She hooked her arm through mine and led me inside. She had been sweet enough to suggest following me for my first class. The lecture theatre was already half full, with students chatting loudly while they waited for the professor to arrive. I settled into my seat and tried to ignore the butterflies in my stomach. Behind me, two girls were whispering excitedly. “I can’t believe we actually got into his class.” “I know. Everyone says he’s the best lecturer in the department.”

Luca quirks a brow. “Yes, most of them,” Mr. Barnes says, sounding uncomfortable. “Most of them?” Luca presses. “Which ones?” “It makes me remarkably happy to see a student invested in their studies. Especially history,” Mr. Barnes chuckles, sweat beading against his forehead. “But we will get there during the lesson, Mr. Crowe. If you will?” Luca shrugs, leaning back in his seat. Just then, the classroom door flings open, and Elijah stalks in with an irritated look on his face.

"What?" "Stop getting lost, go clean up, we have to go down for breakfast." She conveyed and I rolled my eyes. "And don't forget that you're having class by eleven." She added and the urge to cry choked me. The classes were just extra classes organized by some top-ranking students in the school and by top-ranking, I mean both in money, connection, and in the brain. They call themselves elites and if I gain their favor with my hard work, it's a plus in getting the scholarship.

“I am a transferred student here. And I wanted to know where my class is.” “Nice to meet you, Miss Lana. I am Lars. If I’m not wrong you are referred by alpha Zaro. Correct?” He smiled at her which made Lana compare him to the triplets. Subconsciously she had been thinking about them without even trying. Lana nodded and waited for him to say something as Lars kept rustling through the files. He brought up a few pages and handed them to Lana. “Here is your schedule and the classroom is on the first floor towards your right.”

LUTON PREP BOARDING SCHOOL MANHATTAN 11 YEARS AGO, TWO WEEKS BEFORE SPRING BREAK AND THE BENOIT AND DALTON CAR CRASH. “You’re late Elsida,” Professor Muton raises his eyebrow as she steps into the classroom. Students snicker and mumble incoherent words as she stalks to the only empty seat situated in front of the classroom. Her leg skids to a stop when she notices the occupant of the seat next to hers. Julien’s head is bowed, oblivious to the murmurs around him. His gaze rooted to the phone in his hands.