The corridors of Ashwood Academy were alive with the usual chaos—slamming lockers, half-shouted jokes, the scrape of sneakers against tiled floors. It was only the second week of term, and already the teachers had muttered the same warning to one another in the breakroom: “Class 3B is a nightmare.”

Whispers of mischief and rebellion followed that group of pupils everywhere. Bright, quick-tongued, loud, or quietly calculating, they were the sort who could unravel a teacher’s patience in less than a week. Most substitutes never returned. Even the headteacher wore a thin smile whenever 3B was mentioned, as though suppressing the urge to sigh.

And today, into that storm, walked their new Biology teacher.

The door creaked open a few minutes after the bell had rung, every head turning sharply at the sound. A young figure entered—far younger than anyone expected. Mid-twenties? No, not even. There was something startlingly fresh about them, something that set them apart from the seasoned, weary teachers the students were used to. A brief silence fell over the room, as if the entire class had swallowed their laughter mid-breath.

The newcomer set their books down on the desk, straightened, and offered a small smile. The sharp sunlight streaming through the high windows picked out the clean lines of their features and the faint confidence in their stance.

This was no ordinary teacher.

They had graduated college at the age of twelve, already a whisper of brilliance clinging to their reputation. Fluent in Spanish, holder of degrees that most could only dream of, they were the academy’s gamble—the young prodigy who had stepped into the impossible role of taming the wildest class in the school.

And the pupils of 3B, notorious for their chatter and rebellion, stared as if they’d seen a ghost.

Lexi, perched with a careless slouch in her chair, leaned toward Winter, whispering far too loudly:

“That can’t be our teacher.”

Winter, pretty and effortlessly popular, didn’t look away from the front of the room. Her eyes were wide, lips parted in a small murmur of awe.

“Wow.”

From the middle row, Luna—always so sure of herself, the clever one who corrected teachers as though it were sport—turned sharply to scold them.

“What are you even talking ab—”

But she stopped. Her gaze locked onto the figure at the front of the classroom. Her sentence trailed into silence. Even Luna had no words.

Around her, the other students shifted in their seats, exchanging glances, half-hidden grins, and raised brows.

Suki, the chatty one who was never known to sit still, whispered with obvious excitement, giggling into her sleeve. Rema, the class clown, let out a low whistle before covering it with a cough, shoulders shaking. Debbie, petite and quiet, simply lowered her gaze to her notebook, though a shy smile played at her lips.

Izzy and Alex, both with reputations for sass and cruelty, exchanged a smirk that was half-jealousy, half-intrigue. Hazel, the other popular girl, flicked her glossy hair over one shoulder, her eyes narrowing—not used to anyone else commanding the room so effortlessly. Beside her, Lavender, the loyal follower, mirrored her expression, though hers wavered with poorly hidden curiosity.

In the back row, Tasha leaned back with her gamer-girl detachment, muttering something under her breath that only Mia, the quiet one at her side, heard. Sam, the tomboy, crossed her arms but didn’t look away. Eliza, the farm girl, tilted her head slightly, honest interest softening her face. Vivien, tall and kind, studied the new teacher with an almost protective calm.

Mel, glued to her phone, had at first ignored the stir. But even she couldn’t resist lifting her gaze, lips parting in an unguarded flicker of surprise. Rose, lively and sweet, beamed openly, already whispering to Harley—who replied with the same passive-aggressive half-smile she always wore.

The room had shifted. A class once defined by its unruly energy now sat suspended in a strange kind of hush.