Ethan's mind swirled with unanswered questions. Was Sophia actually attacked? He glanced at Mr. Henry, who was lecturing as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. It looks like our teacher survived yet again, Ethan thought, his eyes narrowing.
As the lesson concluded, Mr. Henry caught Ethan's gaze for a fleeting second before addressing the room. "We have a bit of time left, so I'll let you in on something."
The students, previously slumped in boredom, perked up instantly.
"In about four or five days, we'll be going on a school trip," Mr. Henry announced.
The room erupted into cheers and excited whispers. Mr. Henry cleared his throat, and the class settled into a disciplined silence. "You'll be divided into groups of four. Inter-sectional teams are permitted."
The students nodded eagerly.
"I'm giving you a head start on the news," Henry continued. "The first years leave the day after tomorrow for a three-day stay. For you second years, it will be a full week."
A wave of joy swept through the room—until his next sentence.
"The third years will also be staying for a week. Because of that, the faculty is considering taking both classes together."
The atmosphere shifted instantly. The excitement deflated into a low, dissatisfied buzz.
"Third years? Honestly, I can't stand them," one girl whispered to her friend.
"They're so creepy," her friend replied. "Most of them are under Enzo's thumb anyway."
"But there's that one third-year," another girl chimed in. "Jake. He's actually handsome and so cool."
So, Jake is the popular one, Ethan noted silently.
Nearby, a group of boys were debating the "beauties" of the third year. The consensus was that while Madison was the reigning queen of the second years, the third-year class was packed with girls who, while not quite eclipsing her, certainly gave her a run for her money.
Finn sighed, leaning toward Ethan. "Well, they aren't wrong. The third-year women are something else."
Ethan turned to him, curious. "Really? Tell me more."
"My club president is a third-year," Finn admitted, his voice dropping. "She's... gorgeous."
"So, you like her," Ethan prodded.
Finn flustered immediately, his face reddening. "I never said that!"
"Your face is saying it for you."
Finn buried his face in his hands. Ethan reached out, patting his friend's shoulder. "If the second and third years are together, make sure you actually try to score some points with her."
Finn looked up, a self-deprecating smile on his face. "To be honest, Ethan, I'm not handsome like you. I'm just a background character."
Finn's words struck a chord, triggering a dormant memory of Ethan's father.
"Ethan, remember that true beauty comes from within. Never judge a soul by its vessel." His father had taken a deep breath, his voice turning somber. "Evil often masks itself in beauty to deceive. It leads you into negativity and deception until you're left wondering where it all went wrong. Remember that for the rest of your life."
In the memory, Ethan looked at his father's broad back as the man knelt down to meet his eyes. Ethan had nodded then, just as he did now.
"Ethan?" Finn's voice pulled him back to the present.
The classroom was still buzzing. Mr. Henry was leaning over a desk a few rows ahead, explaining a topic to a girl who was listening intently. Ethan turned back to Finn and placed a firm, steady hand on his shoulder.
"Finn, my father once told me something..."
Mr. Henry finished his explanation. He began to turn back toward the front of the room, but Ethan's voice caught him. The teacher's movements slowed.
Ethan sat back, his elbows resting casually on the desk. "...He told me that beauty comes from the inside. And from the time I've spent with you, Finn, I can see you're full of it. You're a good man."
Ethan noticed Mr. Henry staring at him, his expression uncharacteristically stunned. Why is he looking at me like that? Ethan wondered.
Mr. Henry abruptly turned toward the lectern just as the bell rang. He gathered his materials and walked out without another word.
"Thanks, Ethan," Finn said, his voice now filled with newfound conviction. "I'll do it. I'll try to score some points with her."
Outside the classroom, Mr. Henry sank onto a bench in the garden. Beads of sweat had broken out on his forehead. He couldn't shake the image of Ethan encouraging his friend.
His eyes lingered on Ethan's posture—leaning back, elbows resting casually, calm and confident. The sight struck him sharply: it was the same posture Ethan's father had once held, the same quiet authority. For a fleeting moment, the classroom walls seemed to fade, leaving only a shadowed silhouette behind Ethan—broad-backed, commanding, yet shrouded in darkness.
You really are his son, Henry breathed, his heart hitching. No wonder… that's why I remember him. He exhaled slowly, trying to calm the sudden surge of recognition and awe.