Maxwell Prescott is known as the school's eccentric genius. He's undoubtedly the teacher's favourite without trying and as a result, his own classmates didn't like it. But he was fine with it, at least he convinced himself to be.

His teachers always trusted him with tasks such as leading the class when they're not around, give the students the work, but never tutor a student. Sure, he's intelligent but he's never worked with a student.

The library is quiet, the soft rustle of pages and the occasional whisper the only sounds breaking the silence. Sunlight streams through the expansive window, casting a warm, golden glow over him. Maxwell sat at a large wooden table near the window, surrounded by tall bookshelves filled with countless volumes, waiting for the student he was going to tutor.

As he went over your Biology and Physics exam scores, he whistled. He didn't think it was going to be that bad. "These grades are horrible," he mumbled.