With a jolt, I snap out of the web of thoughts that had ensnared me. Scroptz continues in a booming voice, “There are always students who believe they are too important to follow school regulations, who think they can do whatever they want, whenever they want.”
Ah, discipline time, I think. Herr S. always finds new ways to keep us ‘on our toes’, as he likes to put it. Most of the time, it's over small things: a pencil not perfectly aligned with another, a clumsily stacked pile of books, or a bag placed not close enough to a desk. But this time, I have no clue what it’s about or who he’s addressing.
“And especially,” his voice rises dramatically, “those who think they won’t be caught cheating. Isn’t that right...?” He pauses a bit longer for dramatic effect. “Maxime Kwintens!” All heads turn toward me in unison. “To me, Kwintens, chop-chop. I don’t have all day.”
Confused, I push back my chair and walk as slowly as possible to the front, trying to figure out what’s happening. At moments like this, I must admit that my isolation from the other students feels particularly lonely. I’m not made of steel, even if I pretend to be. A little bit of support would be nice. But when I look around, the expressions on the faces aren't hostile or unsympathetic. Most of them appear more surprised than anything else, as if they’re watching the end of a play where a character they’ve never seen before solves the murder in two sentences.
When I reach his desk, Scroptz's voice is dangerously soft. "Miss Kwintens, what I find curious, in a strange and unsettling way, is how you did it. Because..." He pauses dramatically. "Yesterday, something unique happened."
"Eh... you didn't doze off?" I try to provoke him, but he doesn't flinch.
"For the first time ever, a student answered all the questions correctly. And believe me, Miss Kwintens, these tests are meticulously designed to ensure that isn't possible. Every footnote and sidebar from your book is incorporated into these tests. No A-pluses in my class, Miss Kwintens! That would be bad for morale. Therefore, there's only one possible conclusion: you cheated. And I want to know how. Why didn't I catch you? I always catch cheaters within seconds."
For a moment, I’m at a loss for words. Of all the possibilities, I didn’t see this one coming. How could I have been so stupid? What a reckless lapse in concentration. I should have made a few mistakes, like I usually do, to avoid drawing unwanted attention. Still, I’m not about to enlighten him about my photographic memory. That’s nobody’s business but my own.
I meet his bulging eyes and resort to the only defense I know: offense. “Maybe the years are catching up with you, sir? You’re not getting any younger, after all.” This time, it works. His expression freezes. He slowly leans in, close enough for me to be assaulted by his obnoxious aftershave, and hisses softly in my ear, so only I can hear him.
“Better watch it, Kwintens, or you’ll end up just like your mother.” His voice is so venomous and vile, that it leaves me momentarily speechless. But when I see the triumphant gleam in his eyes, I straighten my back and shoot back.
“Career, sir? Doesn’t a career mean you get promoted every few years? If you were teaching my mother all those years ago, maybe your career is a bit... stuck... maybe?”
A collective gasp escapes the students in the classroom. The fast-accelerating rumble of unrest and excitement grows in volume. Clearly audible above it, I hear Gnat’s long, approving hiss. My popularity skyrockets by 300%, but the rush of euphoria is short-lived as the chatter and laughter are abruptly silenced by a long wooden ruler landing with a devastating bang on Scroptz’s desk.
“This is enough! More than enough!” he roars. “In 25 years, I’ve never sent a student to the vice-principal. It’s like admitting defeat. But today, I’ll make an exception. You’re a worthless piece of nothing. Out! Now! The vice-principal will know what to do with you. Take your backpack; I don’t want to see you again today.”
As the door closes behind me, the last remnants of triumph are replaced by a feeling of inevitable doom. Damn, the vice-principal. That’s the last thing I wanted. I try to think of a way out of this mess, but nothing comes to mind. I have no choice. Slowly, I start to move through the deserted corridors.