As a transfer student, and a newcomer burdened with the label of being a fraudster's daughter, Alice naturally became the focus of everyone's attention.
In those gazes, there was curiosity, contempt, and a certain malice waiting to see a show.
But Alice just walked through the crowd without looking sideways.
For a warrior who had even seen a Tyrannosaurus Rex, this kind of high school social hierarchy suppression was simply ridiculously childish.
On both sides of the corridor were two rows of blue-painted metal lockers. Students were crowding in front of the lockers; some were violently banging on jammed locks, some were loudly discussing last night's football game, and some couples were kissing against the lockers as if no one else was around.
Alice found her locker and turned the dial according to the combination on the slip of paper.
"36-24-18."
"Click."
The locker door opened, and a musty smell of rust wafted out.
She stuffed her schoolbag inside, taking only two books.
There were no fixed classrooms, no fixed seatmates.
Here, every student was a mobile atom, shuttling between different classrooms driven by that complex class schedule.
First period, U.S. History.
The desks and chairs in the classroom were arranged casually, even somewhat messily.
The teacher hadn't arrived yet; some students were sitting on the desks, some had their feet propped up on the backs of chairs, and the sound of chewing gum rose and fell.
Alice walked to an empty seat by the window in the back row and sat down.
A figure in the seat in front caught her attention.
It was the only boy in the classroom who was sitting up straight, with his books neatly arranged, and even his pen taken out in advance.
Peter Parker.
He was wearing a faded plaid shirt, his brown curly hair messy, and he was looking down, quickly writing some formulas in a notebook.
Even in such a noisy environment, it was as if he brought his own soundproof barrier, immersed in his own World.
"Hey, Peter."
Alice initiated a greeting.
Peter was startled, and the pen in his hand almost fell to the ground.
He turned his head, a flash of panic flickering in those brown eyes behind thick lenses, which then turned into surprise after realizing it was Alice.
"Oh, hi, Alice, you picked this class too?"
Peter pushed his glasses up, looking somewhat flustered, clearly unaccustomed to pretty girls initiating conversation.
"I'm also glad to see a familiar face," Alice smiled. "After all, in a place like this that feels like a coliseum, it's not easy to find a normal person."
Peter paused for a moment, then smiled bitterly as he looked at the group of classmates around him throwing paper balls at each other.
"Coliseum, that's a very accurate metaphor."
Just then, a tall boy wearing a varsity jacket swaggered over.
Eugene "Flash" Thompson.
As he passed Peter's desk, he deliberately bumped the corner of the desk with his hip.
"Bang!"
The books on Peter's desk clattered to the floor.
"Oops, sorry, insignificant Parker." Flash raised his hands exaggeratedly, a mischievous grin on his face as he succeeded in his prank. "Your desk was blocking my way."
A burst of laughter erupted around them.
Peter didn't retort, just silently bent down to pick up the books, his practiced movements heartbreaking.
Flash didn't stop there; he turned his head, his gaze landing on Alice with a flirtatious look.
It was obvious that he was still brooding over Alice not responding to his advances yesterday.
"Hey, new fraudster's daughter, I heard your family went bankrupt? If you don't have money for lunch, call me Big Brother Flash, and maybe I'll reward you with a burger."
The laughter in the classroom grew louder.
Alice sat in her chair, not even changing her posture.
She was twirling a ballpoint pen in her hand, raised her head, and stared coldly at Flash with those azure eyes.
No anger, no shame.
That look was like staring at a greenbottle fly buzzing at her.
"Thompson, publicly insulting others in a public place, while not necessarily prosecutable, certainly proves one thing. Your cerebellum seems underdeveloped, to the point where you cannot control your sphincter, causing your mouth to discharge at will like an anus."
"..."
The classroom was instantly deathly silent.
Everyone's mouths dropped open.
Even Peter, who was squatting on the floor picking up books, stopped his actions and looked up in shock.
Flash froze for a full three seconds before realizing he was being insulted. His face instantly turned the color of a pig's liver, and in a fit of rage, he raised his fist: "What did you say? You..."
"Alright, everyone back to your seats."
The history teacher walked in with a lesson plan, timely interrupting the conflict that was about to erupt.
Flash glared fiercely at Alice, made a gesture of "just you wait," and returned to his seat, unwilling to let it go.
Alice expressionlessly looked down and opened her book.
Peter in the front seat turned around, handed Alice one of the books he had just picked up, and lowered his voice, his tone full of worry and admiration: "My God, Alice, you shouldn't have provoked him. He's the quarterback of the school team, a big shot in school; your life is going to be very difficult from now on."
"Is that so?"
Alice took the book, the corners of her mouth slightly raised, revealing a meaningful smile.
Outside the window, the New York sunlight was a bit blinding.
She rested her chin on her hand, looking at the Declaration of Independence written on the blackboard by the teacher, but her thoughts drifted to tonight's plan.
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