The school bell rang with a tone that, to some students, sounded like a death knell.
Mrs. Ida entered Class 7A carrying a stack of legal-sized papers with that distinct photocopier aroma—a scent that to Nazma was the smell of victory, but to other students was the scent of a cold sweat.
"Clear your desks. Only stationery. No books, no notes, and no talking," Mrs. Ida's voice sliced through sharply.
Nazma took a deep breath. She laid out her steel ruler, correction tape, and one pen. She caught a glimpse of Zemiro in his seat. He was there. The boy looked remarkably calm behind his blue mask.
"Psst! Naz!"
A faint whisper pierced Nazma's ear.She didn't turn.She knew it was Talitha's voice from the back desk.
"Naz, number seven from last night's practice... the one with three variables, which formula do you use?"
Nazma remained motionless. Her glasses glinted under the classroom lights. Helping a friend once the test papers were being distributed was a fatal violation. Her focus couldn't waver.
Mrs. Ida began handing out the papers. As the sheet landed on Nazma's desk, she immediately flipped it over. Her eyes scanned it rapidly.
Number one, simplification. Easy. Number two, value substitution. Safe. Number three... Nazma paused. Her brow furrowed slightly. Number three was a word problem about goods distribution with quite deceptive variables. This was more complex than the simulations she had worked on in her room last night.
Just as she was about to put pen to paper, the sound of a chair scraping in the back broke the silence.
"Ma'am," Bright's voice sounded lazy yet loud enough. "I don't have a pen."
Instantly, suppressed laughter erupted across the classroom. Mrs. Ida halted her movements and fixed Bright with a sharp gaze from behind her glasses.
Mrs. Ida stopped right in the middle row, her eyes narrowing sharply through her thick lenses.
"Are you here to learn or just to take up space, Bright?" Mrs. Ida asked. Every word uttered with an emphasis that made some students' hearts sink.
This is a daily quiz, not a chat session. Coming to a math class without a pen is like heading into battle without your life.
Bright didn't look intimidated at all. He actually flashed a thin smile behind his relaxed expression.
"I forgot, Ma'am. Back in the special class I kept using pencils, so my pen was left in the locker there," he answered nonchalantly, though he was actually trembling a little.
Small chuckles crept through the back rows again, but they vanished instantly as Mrs. Ida slammed her hand on a nearby desk—not hard, but enough to create a gripping, absolute silence.
"Silence!" Mrs. Ida barked. Her gaze swept the entire room. "In my class, there are no trivial excuses. If one person is unprepared, you all lose five minutes of your testing time."
Hearing that, the atmosphere of the class changed completely. Mrs. Ida's aura of authority truly dominated every corner of the room, forcing everyone to submit to her rules without exception.
In the front row, Nazma silently observed the scene with a burgeoning sense of satisfaction in her chest. This is what's great about AB College, she thought while looking back at her test paper with determination.
I didn't pick the wrong school after all. It really is disciplined.
To her, Mrs. Ida's firmness was a form of justice. In this school, carelessness like Bright's had no place being rewarded. This discipline was the perfect stage for people like Nazma—those who prepared everything down to the smallest detail.
It felt impossible for bullying to exist in this school when the teachers were like Mrs. Ida.
"Nazma," Mrs. Ida called out suddenly, making Nazma flinch slightly. "I see you have two spare pens on your desk. Give one to Bright. And Bright, after this quiz, you will stand at the front of the board until my period is over."