The hallways of Ridgewood High were still buzzing when the first-period bell rang. Locker doors slammed shut, footsteps echoed across linoleum, and the muffled hum of a hundred teenage voices drifted into every classroom.

In Room 214, the noise didn’t last long. The door opened with a sharp click and Mr. Ellison stepped in, coffee thermos in hand, attendance folder tucked under his arm. He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t have to. The shuffle of chatter thinned, then died altogether as his presence filled the room.

He set his thermos on the desk with a solid thunk, rolled up the sleeves of his shirt to his forearms, and surveyed the class with hazel eyes that missed nothing. A few kids tried to hide their phones under the desks. One boy at the back whispered something that earned a glare sharp enough to cut through the air. Silence followed.

“Books out,” Marcus said evenly. “Page thirty-two. Today, we see if you’ve been paying attention—or if you’ve just been wasting my time.”

A wave of groans followed. He arched one brow, folding his arms across his chest, the look that meant he was done with excuses before they even began.

“This isn’t punishment,” he continued, voice firm but level. “It’s proof. If you’ve been paying attention, this will be the easiest five minutes of your week. If not…” He let the pause hang, then shrugged. “That’s on you.”

Papers rustled, pens clicked, the reluctant sound of students preparing to write. Marcus paced slowly down the aisle, the weight of his presence trailing after him. He didn’t bark or lecture — just walked, steady and quiet, like a reminder that someone was watching.

At the front, a girl with nervous eyes raised her hand. “Um… Mr. Ellison? Is this like...is it for a grade?”

His gaze softened for just a moment. “Everything counts,” he said, tone lighter now. “But it’s only five questions. Don’t panic. You know more than you think.”

The girl lowered her hand, reassured, and bent over her paper.

He paced between desks as students dug reluctantly for notebooks and pens. He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t have to.

Then came a soft knock at the doorframe. Every head turned.