Ahmad stood quietly, his gaze fixed on the floor, waiting for Miss Olivia's usual lecture on moral conduct. He braced himself for the sharp tone and long reprimand that typically followed any visit to her office. But instead, her next words took him by surprise.
"I believe this is your second time in my office, Ahmad," she said, adjusting her glasses for what felt like the umpteenth time that day.
Although he knew it was a rhetorical question, Ahmad still gave a small nod.
"Normally, I would have liked to lecture you like I did the last time," she continued, her eyes narrowing slightly, "but I don't think the problem is you this time, isn't that right, Charles?"
Her gaze shifted toward Charles, who stood stiffly near the corner of the room, fidgeting nervously under her sharp stare.
"Ma, but he wanted to punch me! You saw that too!" Charles said quickly, his voice desperate, hoping to win some sympathy.
Ahmad and Miss Olivia both turned to him, unimpressed. Her expression didn't soften in the slightest.
"You don't even believe yourself," she said calmly, "not to mention me."
Charles looked away, defeated.
Then Miss Olivia turned her attention back to Ahmad. "You can go now. During the church session, you may exempt yourself," she said. Ahmad could've sworn he saw the faintest hint of a smile tug at the corner of her lips.
Feeling a wave of relief, he thanked her quietly and left the office. As he walked down the hallway, he could still hear her voice rising behind him, no doubt scolding Charles.
He was genuinely surprised at how lenient she had been this time. Miss Olivia was known for her strictness, her reputation built on her insistence on discipline and moral uprightness. A couple of steps later, her words about "church session" registered in his mind, and a grin appeared on his face. He was glad he didn't have to join them, being a Muslim, he had always felt awkward sitting through those long sermons.
Just as that thought left his mind, he caught sight of Rudolph, his closest friend.
Rudolph was tall, tan, and lanky, his shirt untucked as always, and a mischievous but kind smile playing on his lips. He wasn't the brightest in class, but he had a sharpness about him, a cleverness that often went unnoticed by the teachers. He was also one of the few who never joined the others in teasing or mocking Ahmad, and that had formed the foundation of their friendship.
"So!" Rudolph exclaimed, grinning. "How did it go? Did she roast you again?"
Ahmad chuckled. "Not that bad. She went easy on me, even I'm surprised," he said, still a little puzzled.
Before Rudolph could respond, the school bell rang.
"Riiing! Riiing! Riiing!"
"That's the next class," Ahmad said quickly. "Catch you later, Rudi!" He quickened his pace, hurrying to the classroom.
He knew he had already missed French and he couldn't afford to miss Maths as well, not with Mrs. Elizabeth teaching it.
Before he even reached the door, he could sense the heavy silence from down the corridor. No one made a sound, a sure sign that Mrs. Elizabeth was already inside. His stomach dropped.
Through the open door, he saw her writing something on the board, her back straight, her posture taut. Her oval face was framed by red-rimmed glasses, and the faint lines beside her eyes told stories of years spent teaching stubborn students. Time had done its work on her, but there was still a quiet grace to the way she moved. She was famously strict during class but surprisingly gentle and motherly outside it.
As Ahmad lingered by the doorway, the whole class turned toward him, whispering and snickering. A few even grinned, taking quiet pleasure in his predicament.
Mrs. Elizabeth didn't turn around. She kept writing. If it were any other student, she would have chased them off immediately, she detested lateness. But perhaps she already knew where Ahmad was coming from, and so she let him wait.
Minutes passed. Then, after finishing a long equation, she turned her head slightly, giving him a single, deliberate glance.
Taking the cue, Ahmad straightened up and said, "I'm coming from the Principal's office, Ma."
She raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. Before she could question him, Sophia, the class monitor, stood up.
"Yes, Ma'am," she said confidently. "He's telling the truth."
Mrs. Elizabeth gave a curt nod, waved her hand, and said, "Sit down."
Ahmad sighed with relief and quickly made his way to his seat beside Anna, his desk partner.
Anna flashed him a grin and a subtle thumbs-up, a small but playful congratulation for surviving another close call. She had joined the school just a few weeks ago, and no one knew much about her background. She kept most things to herself, though she was bright, friendly, and always willing to help Ahmad when he needed it. Her curly blonde ringlets framed her fair face, and there was always something sunny and optimistic about her, a bit of light in the dull classroom.
Ahmad chuckled softly and returned the thumbs-up before settling down. Across the room, he caught Sophia's disapproving stare. She still looked upset about the earlier scuffle. Ahmad mouthed silently, "Sorry. I'm okay now."
Sophia hesitated for a moment, then gave a small nod before turning back to her book. He knew she meant well and would probably lecture him about it later, that was just how she was.
Opening his textbook, Ahmad glanced at Anna's copy to confirm the right page before flipping his own open. It was a topic he already understood well, so his focus started to drift as Mrs. Elizabeth's voice droned on about formulas and examples.
Numbers and symbols began to blur together. The steady hum of the ceiling fan, the rhythmic chalk tapping on the board, and the muffled whispers from the back row all blended into a soft lullaby.
He raised his textbook slightly to cover his face, glanced sideways at Anna, who immediately understood, and with a faint, tired smile, Ahmad closed his eyes and drifted off into a quiet, peaceful nap amid the hum of equations.