Classroom Of The Elite Year 2 Mga Nobela at Kwento

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.

They are unbelievably, exceptional! Every details are fully done, not even a single mistake you can't see on it. It's just so perfect on my eyes. "Milady, don't feel any anxious. They are good and kind, trust me," Noire always make me feel this comfort. It really eagers my want to stay and if even possible, to live here. In their, magnificent and stunning palace. "I'll do my very best, to impress your parents, Your Highness," confidently saying a bunch of words that was all made of pretence.

The only reason I was still here was because we had history class and I couldn't miss any more classes or my father wouldn't be more forgiving. Mr. Renshaw droned on at the front of the room, scribbling something about inter-pack treaties on the smartboard. My brain registered none of it. Not with Brittney curled into Lucas’s side two rows ahead, whispering into his ear like they were already mated. “Who remembers the year of the Eastern Alliance Treaty?” Renshaw’s voice cut through the chatter. “2315,” someone called from the back. “Good. Now—” Brittney giggled again, her fingers tracing the curve of Lucas’s neck. He tried to duck subtly but she latched onto him again this time tighter.

The elevator rose so smoothly I barely felt the motion, just the mounting pressure in my chest as the numbers climbed. Eden’s assistant met me with a bright smile. “Ms. Laurent. Mr. Cross is expecting you.” She led me down a hallway lined with abstract art that probably cost more than my father’s house, stopping at a set of double doors. “Please wait inside. He’ll be with you momentarily.” The conference room was designed for intimidation. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a view of the city that made people look like insects. The table was black glass, polished to a mirror shine. Everything chosen to remind you exactly how much power sat on the other side of the negotiation.

Luckily, the next day she had no classes, so she grabbed her schedule from the front desk, had breakfast in the cafeteria, and went out for some shopping. Grand Elite Academy was on the outskirts of the main city and was surrounded by small towns. Innessa bought some fake vines, fairy lights, and some double-sided sticky tape. On her way back, she had an iced latte. Stepping inside her room, she removed her shoes, placed them aside, and padded inside barefoot. She checked her banking app once before she got to work.

Somehow, some way, I would find a way to ruin it. And being alone isn't so bad. I wanted to ask about my husband, I wanted to ask how well he knew the man, but I opted for looking out the window and chewing on my bottom lip like I held a grudge against it. No. The silence is better. Thirty minutes later, the magnificent sight of Elysium Elite University came into view. It was one of the most elusive and prestigious universities in New York, a school founded by the most powerful men in the country at the time. Over one hundred years of history and it still ranked first every year as the hardest school to get into.

It was a jumble of shuffling feet, maxed-out voices, giggling, exaggerated laughter, door slams, and murmurs. However, through the conundrum caused by the school bell, which was seen in the hallways and premises, only one class remained gentle, like they didn't hear the bell, which was the favorite of any high school student. Class 2-B. The most disciplined class in the entire school and maybe the whole town. A title that wasn't earned because the students were of their best behavior innately, but was because of the grooming their homeroom teacher, Miss Elis, instilled in them.

Psyche! "I-I see, I'm glad you're happy." Miss Arlert replied with a forced smile then opened the book she was holding. "Anyway, before we start our class, I'll remind you once again that the exams are coming up within a month. As the Class-A of the 11th grade, I hope you're all studying hard to get high grades. I believe that each and everyone of you can do even better, you just have to put your mind into it!" Miss Arlert seemed like a kindergarten teacher if you didn't know she's the homeroom of Sage Academy's Class-A's 11th Grade. She has this approachable and innocent vibe to her, she's really sweet, no wonder a lot of students and teachers ask her out.

No one wants to mention about it. Cheating in the exam... How many students in class eleven were really enrolled by their records? The class was in an uproar until the bell rang. Yuri , who inexplicably became the leader of class eleven, was speechless, "..." —— after school. Mary Ye was waiting for Yuri downstairs. From afar, she saw several students talking and laughing with Yuri . "Boss, see you next Lucas Austin ay." Those classmates also saw her and left. Mary Ye had some impression of her classmates.

“Can I take the elevator?” She burst out laughing, leaving me confused. “Oh, honey. Our elevator has been broken for five years. Take the stairs.” I raised an eyebrow. A school like Elite had such living arrangements? Still, it seemed like she was on the verge of a tantrum if I asked another question. So, I nodded and made my way, taking the stairs to the top floor. The journey was less than pleasant. Shirtless men and women lounged in the hallways, some even kissing and borderline having sex. Beer bottles littered the ground, and tissues with unknown substances clung to the walls.