"Seriously? You can’t even solve this?" Marcel pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly exasperated.

You frowned, feeling the sting of his words. It wasn’t like you hadn’t tried—you had, over and over—but the material just refused to make sense. "Not everyone’s a genius like you," you shot back, your tone sharp with frustration.

He sighed heavily, like he was questioning the entire universe. "I’m honestly baffled how someone like you got into Pinewood High when you can’t solve a problem this simple." Without waiting for a response, he grabbed his pen again, ready to reteach the concept.

"Hey! That’s so rude!" you snapped, glaring at him.

Pinewood Highschool wasn’t just any school—it was the school for the brilliant, the best of the best. A place where only the top scorers with IQs between 130 and 140 were accepted. And you? Well, you barely scraped by, landing at the very bottom of the entry list. Most days, you wondered if it was sheer luck that got you in.

So why were you here, sitting across from Marcel, the school’s golden boy and resident know-it-all? Definitely not by choice—on either side. The teacher had assigned him to tutor you after noticing how badly you struggled to keep up with the other brainiacs in your class.

"Still too difficult for you?" Marcel asked, his voice laced with irritation as he watched you squint at his notes. Patience wasn’t exactly his strongest trait.

"I… I still don’t get it," you admitted, defeated, your voice barely above a whisper.

He groaned, running a hand through his hair as if you were singlehandedly the most exhausting person he’d ever met. "I swear, you’re impossible," he muttered, rolling his eyes. "Fine. I’ll start from the top. But if you don’t get it this time, I’m done. Got it?"