The first day of the second semester for the seventh grade began with a clear sky, but a storm was raging inside Thomas's chest. Throughout the holidays, one sentence had kept spinning in his head like a broken record that refused to stop. It was what Chelsea had said during the report card distribution: "You're actually smart, Thom. Smarter than most people in this class."
Those words weren't just a compliment; to Thomas, they were a challenge. It was a hypothesis that had to be proven. For the past semester, he had reverted to being an invisible ghost, and honestly, he was sick of it. Thomas missed the sensation of his heart pounding from being the center of attention. If in elementary school he got that thrill by making others suffer, then this time, he wanted to try the path Chelsea had shown him.
The bell rang loudly. First subject: Mathematics.
Mr. Bambang, a senior teacher with thick glasses and stern facial features, entered carrying a long wooden ruler. The atmosphere in class 7-B, which had been rowdy, instantly fell silent. No one dared to make a sound during Mr. Bambang's hour.
"Today we are entering a new topic," Mr. Bambang's voice was heavy and echoed. "Linear Equations and Inequalities of One Variable."
For the first forty-five minutes, Thomas sat quietly, listening with unusual intensity. He noted every movement of the chalk on the blackboard. Usually, he would daydream or draw on the back pages of his notebook, but not today. He wanted to be able to do this. He wanted to be seen.
After explaining the basic concepts, Mr. Bambang erased the board and wrote down a word problem. It wasn't a standard practice question. It was a complex application problem, the type that usually made seventh graders give up before even trying.
"A farmer has a rectangular plot of land. The width of the land is 6 meters shorter than its length. If the perimeter of the land is not less than or equal to 60 meters, determine the possible length (p) of the land and write down the mathematical model!"
Mr. Bambang put down the chalk, then turned to face 35 pairs of eyes, most of which immediately looked down to avoid contact.
"Questions like this often appear to trip you up in the final exams," Mr. Bambang said flatly. "Who dares to come to the front and solve it?"
Silence.
A gentle breeze rustled from the window vents. Chelsea, sitting two rows ahead of Thomas, looked like she was scribbling on her scratch paper with a deeply furrowed brow. Other friends nudged each other, whispering in confusion. The phrase "not less than" and the variables that had to be modeled were making them dizzy.
Thomas's heart hammered against his ribs. Thump. Thump. Thump.
He stared at the problem. His brain worked fast. Width = p - 6. Perimeter = 2(p + w). "Not less than or equal to" meant >. He knew. Thomas knew the answer. He had read this chapter all night long for fear of being scolded by his father if his grades dropped, but he hadn't expected his understanding to be this clear.
However, his feet felt nailed to the floor. The fear of being wrong, the fear of being laughed at, and past traumas held him back. What if he wrote it wrong? What if he stuttered?
Suddenly, Thomas saw Chelsea's back. He remembered the girl's gaze. You are actually smart.
Thomas took a deep breath, swallowed the saliva that tasted bitter, and raised his hand. Not high, just shoulder level, with slightly trembling fingers.
"Yes? You in the back corner..." Mr. Bambang squinted. "Thomas, right? Go ahead."
Every head in the class turned back simultaneously. Their gazes were piercing. Thomas stood up, his knees feeling shaky as he walked to the front of the class. He picked up the chalk. The chalk dust felt rough on his fingers.
Thomas began to write. At first, his writing was small and hesitant.
Given:
Length = p, Width = p - 6, Perimeter > 60
Mathematical Model:
2(p + w) > 60
2(p + (p - 6)) > 60
The sound of chalk striking the blackboard was the only sound in the room. Thomas began to forget his fear of his classmates. He drowned in the numbers. His logic flowed smoothly.
2(2p - 6) > 60
4p - 12 > 60
4p > 60 + 12
4p > 72
p > 18
Thomas paused for a moment. He stared at his answer, then turned to face the class. With a voice that was still slightly trembling but clear, he said, "So, the length of the land must be more than 18 meters, sir."
One second of silence.
Mr. Bambang stared at the board, checking every line of Thomas's work. Then, the teacher known for being stingy with smiles nodded.
"Systematic steps. The variable modeling is correct, the grouping of terms is right, and the solution to the inequality is perfect," Mr. Bambang praised loudly. "Give a round of applause for Thomas."
CLAP CLAP CLAP!
The applause exploded. Hesitant at first, then it became uproarious.
Thomas stood frozen at the front of the class. Time seemed to slow down. He saw the faces of his classmates. There were no mocking stares. No one was laughing at his worn-out shoes. Their eyes sparkled with admiration. Chelsea clapped the loudest while grinning widely, mouthing the word "Wow!" without sound.
Thomas's chest swelled with heat. That sensation came again. A wave of intoxicating euphoria. The monster inside him that had been sleeping in hunger suddenly woke up and devoured that applause. It felt delicious. Far more delicious than when he was a ruler through delinquency in elementary school. This was a new kind of drug. The drug of intellectual recognition.
As soon as the class ended and Mr. Bambang left, Chelsea immediately spun her chair around and approached Thomas's desk.
"Crazy! That was so cool, Thomas!" Chelsea exclaimed enthusiastically. "That was a hard question! I was confused at the part '2(p + (p-6))', I forgot that it had to be added inside the brackets first. How were you so fluent with it?"
Thomas looked down, hiding a smirk that wanted to explode. He knew he had been great, but his survival instinct told him he had to play it smart. He had to look humble so the praise would keep flowing.
"Ahh, it was nothing, Chel," Thomas answered quietly, pretending to be busy tidying his books. "It was... just a coincidence that I read the book on a whim last night. If I hadn't read it, I definitely wouldn't have been able to do it."
"Impossible that it was just a whim," Chelsea countered. "The way you worked it out on the board earlier was so neat. You really have talent, Thom! Cool!"
"You think so?" Thomas fished again, letting his ego be stroked. "Thanks, Chel."
However, Thomas didn't stop there. During the break, he didn't leave the classroom. He deliberately stayed in his seat, opening his textbook wide, setting the bait.
Sure enough. Three classmates—Laras, Dustin, and Glory—approached him with notebooks in hand. These were kids who usually only hung out with the class's elite circle, but now they were coming to Thomas.
"Thom," Laras called out hesitantly. "Can you teach me that part again? I'm still confused at the '4p - 12' part. Why did it become 12?"
This was his second stage.
Thomas straightened his back. "Oh, that one?"
Thomas began to explain. However, he didn't use a quiet voice like when he spoke to Chelsea. He deliberately raised his volume, ensuring even the kids sitting in the corner of the class could hear the "public lecture" he was giving.
"So the logic is like this, guys," said Thomas loudly, his hand moving nimbly pointing at Laras's book. "It's called the distributive property. The number 2 outside the bracket is multiplied by everything inside. 2 times 2p, then 2 times -6. That's why it becomes -12. It's simple, really, as long as you're careful."
"Ooohhh! So that's it!" Dustin and Glory exclaimed in unison.
"Wow, you explain it better than Mr. Bambang, Thom. Mr. Bambang is too fast," Glory praised.
Thomas smiled, a smile arranged specifically to look friendly but implying superiority.
"Haha, no way," Thomas waved his hand, again wearing the mask of fake humility. "I just use simple logic. Actually, anyone can do it if they just think a little. The key is not to panic with word problems."
He said that last sentence while looking into his friends' eyes. There was a distinct satisfaction in seeing them nod obediently at his explanation. Thomas felt his position level up. He was no longer just an ordinary student; he was a reference.
The next day, Thomas came to school not with fear, but with hunger. He needed another dose of validation. He needed to prove that yesterday was not a fluke.
Science class in the last period. Mrs. Ratna was discussing Heat and Heat Transfer.
"Can anyone explain why there is always a small gap left at the joints of railroad tracks? And what is its relation to the coefficient of linear expansion?" asked Mrs. Ratna.
Before Mrs. Ratna could finish her sentence, Thomas's hand had already shot into the air. Fast, sharp, and deadly. There was no trembling hesitation like yesterday.
"Yes, Thomas again?" Mrs. Ratna smiled, seemingly pleased to see this formerly passive student change completely.
Thomas stood tall, puffing his chest out slightly. He didn't just answer; he gave a scientific oration.
"It is to anticipate expansion, Ma'am. Solid objects will expand if exposed to the sun's heat during the day. If there is no gap, the rails will buckle because they increase in length and push against each other. This could cause the train to derail. The size of the gap is calculated based on the iron's coefficient of linear expansion to fit perfectly at maximum temperature."
A perfect answer. Complete, concise, and using technical terms.
"Extraordinary," praised Mrs. Ratna while clapping. "One hundred for Thomas. The answer was very textual and precise."
"Wuuu! Cool Thom!" His classmates cheered.
Chelsea turned back, her eyes sparkling with pride. "You're so cool, Thomas!" she whispered, half-shouting.
Thomas grinned, absorbing all that energy. He looked around the class. Their gazes... that admiration... it all belonged to Thomas. He felt like a little king in the kingdom of 7-B. He was addicted.
After that Science class, Thomas's desk often turned into a consultation desk. Every change of period, it wasn't rare for someone to come and ask questions. Thomas served them "as best as he could." He was patient, he was friendly, but behind that friendliness, he was feeding his ego. He loved seeing the confused faces of his friends, then arriving as the savior bringing the answer key.
Because so many friends were swarming Thomas, Chelsea slowly backed away. The girl felt bad if she had to cut the line of Thomas's new friends. Chelsea chose to give space, smiling from afar, happy to see her friend who used to be shy and ostracized now shining bright.
When the bell rang for dismissal and the class started to empty, only then could they talk. They walked side by side toward the school gate.
"Thomas," said Chelsea while kicking a small pebble. "You were really busy today. Like a school celebrity."
Thomas chuckled, adjusting his bag with a style made to look casual. "Ah, it's nothing, Chel. Just helping friends. I feel bad if they don't understand, their grades might be bad later."
"You really are kind, Thom," said Chelsea sincerely. She looked at Thomas intently. "I really didn't expect it, you know. Now you are very, very cool. You really are smart. It feels so different from the Thomas I knew in elementary school."
Thomas closed his eyes for a moment, savoring that sentence. Very cool. Really smart. The praise felt like honey dripping on his tongue.
"No, Chel. I'm still learning," Thomas replied, his tone humble, but his chin lifted slightly higher than usual. "It's just a coincidence that I catch on faster than them."
Their steps reached near the gate. Chelsea remembered something. She reached into her bag and pulled out her math notebook.
"Eh, Thom. Since we're walking together. I want to ask about the Math homework from earlier. Number 4," Chelsea opened the page. "Here the sign is -3x < 12. Then when divided by -3, why does the sign change to greater than (>)? I forgot the concept."
Thomas's steps didn't stop, but he turned to look at Chelsea.
There was a subtle shift in his eyes. Before, he looked at Chelsea with admiration, respect, and a feeling of inferiority. Chelsea was his savior, his goddess. But now, after two days of being worshipped by the whole class, after feeling himself standing at the peak of the intellectual pyramid of 7-B, Thomas felt the view below him looked small.
Thomas smiled crookedly. Not a warm smile, but a thin smirk that was slightly condescending.
"Oh my, Chel," Thomas chuckled, a laugh that sounded dry. "Seriously? You're confused by something like that?"
Chelsea was stunned. Her steps stopped.
Thomas continued, his tone casual but piercing. "That's the most basic concept in inequalities. The logic is, if the divisor is negative, the direction of the inequality must be flipped so the statement remains true. That's super easy, actually. How can the rank 2 student not know?"
Chelsea's face changed slightly. The smile on her lips faded. She caught a different tone in Thomas's voice. It wasn't the tone of a helpful friend, but the tone of a teacher scolding a stupid student. A feeling of discomfort crept into Chelsea's heart.
"Oh... right," Chelsea laughed awkwardly, trying to break the tension. "I forgot. Thanks for reminding me, Thom."
"Take it easy. Just be more careful next time," Thomas replied lightly while patting Chelsea's shoulder.
Thomas continued his steps out of the gate with his feelings soaring high. He didn't notice Chelsea's confused stare at his back. He was too busy with the thunder in his chest.
Today Thomas went home with a full feeling. His ego was incredibly satisfied. Without realizing it, he had discovered a new truth: being smart and praised turned out to provide a sense of power just as great as bullying. The difference was, this time he was praised as a hero, not feared as a villain.
And Thomas swore he would never want to step down from this stage. Even if it meant he had to start looking down on the one person who believed in him when he was nobody.