Classroom Of Elite Novels & Stories

Maybe that’s all he knows. The instructor enters through a door near the front of the classroom. It’s a large room, more like a theater really, with a podium and microphone and many rows of seats grading upward. He is a tall, lean man with a chaos of ink black hair and ice blue eyes. His voice is deep and booming; he hardly needs the microphone. His class is called The Secret Life of Trauma, and it is packed, most of the seats taken. He teaches his students about things with which I am intimately familiar: the defenses created by the personality to survive the unthinkable. I’m my own best case study.

be nervous. What's up and everyone is muttering? When I got to the office, I wasn't surprised because my boyfriend wasn't there. I was in the office for a few hours and was restless. I want to go home because I don't really feel well. Shocks! It was as if I was dizzy, so I called Mr. John pick me up from the office because I want to go home to the condo. He immediately answered me and said he was coming. I went down to the office and heard the whispers again. What's up with the gossip, Marites? Maybe share? "Did you know? I saw Mr. Berkshire with a girl at the club last night. Damn! Even more beautiful and hot than Scarlet!” the man whispered to his friend. "Really? Oh poor Scarlet, our bos

"All this fuss over a silly messenger app nickname? Anyone can change that; it's no big deal! "And you! Acting all rich and playing with people's hearts, keeping a lineup of backups like you're some kind of player. You've got no shame! A woman like you must have been tossed around so much that you're nothing but damaged goods now!" The receptionist whipped out her phone and started a live stream, pointing the lens directly at us. "Hey, guys, check this out! We've got a couple of weirdos in the shop. "They waltzed in here for the ten-dollar trial class, got caught by Ms. Scott trying to snag a sugar daddy, and now they're throwing punches and losing it. Her phone's always buzzing with backups

What a jerk. Instead, I dodge around him and rush to the safety of the back of the class. Hannah follows and takes the seat next to me. Lina and Charlotte hurry to the front, sitting up straight like they’re ready to ace the class. The irony—those two fail every subject except this one. Meanwhile, it’s the only class I can’t pass. "While Norali prays for better grades, I hope the rest of you did your homework," Mr. Adkins says as the class sits down. He sits down at his own desk as he opens his laptop and looks us over. He casually avoids my gaze entirely.

"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.

The elemental classroom was unlike their previous classroom. It was so big, that they could fit a hundred tanks inside it. The elemental classroom was also separated into fourteen different rooms, each having the same equipment, and the interior was visible from outside. This was not the only block, in the same model this kind of rooms were created for each and every different class ,and the rooms for elite class was bigger than the other rooms and was unoccupied. The duo entered the classroom as many other students did the same.

I asked for notes and she let me know the devastating news. “What? You mean there's no way to get notes?” I asked. She shook her head, “Sadly. Elites resume first, then people who paid to get in and then scholarship students.” She sighed. “I don't even have all the notes. I missed two weeks worth of class, and you missed…” “One month.” I completed with a scoff of disbelief. This was ridiculous. “What about the teachers? Can't we get notes from them?” She laughed bittterly. “Oh please, the teachers are puppets. They only care about the elites anyway. Only few of them are different. One might get lucky enough to meet them.” She explained.

“There go the elites,” one of the students said sarcastically when they saw the elite class entered the classroom. They had been taking classes with them for a month but they find it hard to approach them since they acted like they have their own world. It was as if they were telling them that they are in a different league of their own. “I don’t have a problem with the other elites, so I don’t really know why I hate that green-haired guy,” Sean Jr., the eldest son of Baron Wyeth said with arrogance.

"How each of you chooses to proceed shall ultimately dictate whether you ascend to seize Willhaven's gilded accolades amongst the hallowed elite you were _meant_ to be...." Her mouth set into a tight line, indicating barely concealed disdain. "...Or if you simply surrender to become another page in my memoirs about Willow Creek's tragic failures under the weight of high ideals never intended for privileged parasites and underachievers to grasp. "Class is dismissed!" With that last jape still sounding like a gunshot, she whirled on her heel and strode out via the side door, leaving a trail of shattered quiet and dread resignation across the classroom. Nobody moved or talked for several long m

My brows furrowed. “I mean,” he continued, “look at it, Arden. Elite is the most prestigious academy in the country. Maybe even the continent. The facilities are state-of-the-art. The curriculum is intense, innovative, and powerful. It trains warriors, strategists, healers, scholars, and diplomats all under one roof. It produces the best of the best. We all came here because of that. Because everyone says this is the place where greatness is born.” He shook his head.