“You'll have to deal with it!” Mrs. Kramer snarled, putting her hands on her hips as if she could somehow intimidate him.

He just snorted, leaned even more casually against the edge of the table and looked at her out of his bright turquoise eyes as if she had just suggested he sell his soul. “I don't have to,” he said with a grin. “I have to breathe. Everything else is optional.”

A giggle went through the class, muffled and uncertain, as if everyone was waiting to see how far he would go today. A plastic baby doll lay on the table in front of him - lifeless, rigid and squashed into a pink onesie. The “big life project”, as Mrs. Kramer had called it. For weeks, they were supposed to look after the dolls, change diapers, feed them, treat them like real babies.

“That's an important lesson about responsibility,” she said sternly. He raised an eyebrow. “If I want to take responsibility, it's not for a piece of plastic. Or are you seriously trying to tell me that this lump here is preparing me for life?”

A few students laughed louder, this time more clearly on his side. Mrs. Kramer blushed, her voice rising slightly. “It's about the experience, not the... the... Authenticity! Every student does this project!”

“Well.” He shrugged one shoulder. “I'm not every student, then.” He grabbed the baby doll with two fingers, as if it were a particularly ugly insect, and dropped it into his backpack without a shred of respect. The doll landed between his books with a muffled plop.

“You're breaking the terms of reference!” gasped Mrs. Kramer indignantly.

He grinned. A slow, superior grin that flashed his tattoos where the T-shirt strained under his sleeve. “Maybe. But maybe not. Show me the exam rules that say I have to give up my dignity for a toy doll.”

A collective, breathless silence spread. No one dared to blink. Mrs. Kramer pressed her lips together, visibly on the edge of self-control. “After class - headmaster's office,” she finally hissed, her voice thin with anger.

He shrugged once more, as if he didn't care at all. And to be honest - he did. “Looking forward to it,” he said as casually as if she had invited him for an ice cream.

Then he dropped back into his chair, folded his arms behind his head and stretched out his legs, wide and confident, as if he owned not only the classroom but the whole school.

The baby doll squeaked weakly in his backpack, as if even she didn't approve of his behavior. But he didn't care. There was no way he was going to let a plastic thing and an overambitious educational project make him feel small.

He wasn't here to be a good boy. He was here to stay true to himself.

And he was happy to accept an extra note in his file for that.