One year had passed since the days in class 9-B, but for Thomas, time seemed to freeze right at the moment of Chelsea's emotional outburst. Her screams, filled with tears and disappointment, felt like a death sentence for his ego, slapping his consciousness with the realization that all this time, he wasn't a genius worthy of worship. He was merely a physical monster who had snatched away Dimas's future, as well as a mental destroyer who enjoyed crushing other people's self-esteem with his sharp words for his own satisfaction.
Now, he wore the white-and-gray uniform. High School was supposed to be a new stage for "The Genius Thomas," a place where he could shine brighter and conquer a new social hierarchy. However, reality said otherwise. For the current Thomas, school was just a long labyrinth where he tried to hide his existence.
He sat in the very back row of class 10-A, the darkest and most unreachable corner. There were no more pens being spun with an arrogant flair. No more hands raised enthusiastically to answer the teacher's questions. Thomas more often stared at the cracks on the surface of his wooden desk or gazed at the dust dancing under the refraction of sunlight from the window.
"Thomas? Did you hear about the biology observation assignment?"
The voice broke his daydream. It was Aris, his seatmate, a bespectacled boy who was quite ambitious. Thomas gave a small start, his shoulders tensing defensively.
"Eh? Yeah... I heard," Thomas answered quietly. His voice was hoarse and fragile, like the hinges of an old door that was rarely opened.
"Do you want to be in a group with me?" Aris offered, his eyes sparkling with calculation. "I saw your specialized Math score yesterday was 98. You must be good at compiling report outlines. If we join up, we can get an absolute A."
Thomas fell silent. His hands under the desk squeezed his uniform trousers.
Before, the old Thomas would have answered with his chin up, "Sure, let me handle everything and we can get a perfect score." But now, that praise sounded like a danger siren. He was afraid of his own abilities. He was afraid that if he took control, his arrogance would resurface and hurt others unintentionally. His intelligence now felt like a sharp weapon covered in blood.
"Sorry, Ris..." Thomas mumbled finally, his eyes fixed on the tip of his shoe. "I... I can't help much. Just find someone else. I'm not focused right now."
Aris frowned, disappointed and confused to see this smart kid who had no guts. "Oh... okay then."
Aris turned his back on him. Thomas let out a long sigh. There was a sting of pain in rejecting the opportunity, but the safety of "not getting involved" was far more calming. Being useless was the only way Thomas could ensure no more victims would fall.
***
The school dismissal bell rang, echoing long through the corridors of SMA Negeri 12.
For hundreds of other students, that sound was a sign of freedom. But for Thomas, the bell was merely a marker of moving from one prison to another.
He deliberately waited ten minutes inside the classroom, letting the hallways empty out. He didn't want to be crowded. He didn't want to brush shoulders with anyone. Once he felt it was safe, only then did he step out.
However, just a few steps in.
As Thomas turned into the corridor leading to the quiet side gate, his steps halted. Four figures stood blocking the way, as if they had been waiting for him.
It was Bobby, an 11th-grade student famous for extorting juniors, along with his three friends: Henry, Lucas, and Billy. They stood casually, blocking the afternoon sunlight.
"Eh, here he is, the quiet one," said Bobby with a wide grin that didn't reach his eyes.
Thomas's heart beat fast. His old reflexes wanted to fight back, his smart brain wanted to devise a strategy to escape or report them. But his fear was far greater.
Thomas looked down. His body, once upright with confidence, now stooped in resignation.
"Where are you going?" asked Henry, stepping forward until his face was only a span away. "All alone, huh? Don't have any friends?"
"Going home, Senior," Thomas answered quietly, his eyes staring at Henry's open uniform button.
Bobby clicked his tongue, then draped his arm around Thomas's shoulder with a forced familiarity. The embrace was heavy and pressing. "Just relax, Bro. We just want to chat for a bit. We're thirsty, just finished playing basketball."
Bobby's fingers pressed into Thomas's collarbone. "Share your pocket money. For the seniors to drink."
Thomas didn't argue. No logical arguments came out of his mouth. He reached into his pants pocket with a trembling hand.
"I only have ten thousand, Senior," squeaked Thomas, handing over the single banknote in his pocket.
Bobby took the money, looking at it with feigned disgust. "Oh, come on. Only ten thousand? You're so stingy for a junior."
"Henry, search his bag," Bobby ordered.
Henry roughly pulled Thomas's bag. He didn't find a thick wallet, only textbooks.
"Empty, Bob. This kid really didn't bring money," Henry reported.
Bobby laughed, then patted Thomas's cheek lightly—a gesture that was extremely demeaning. "Alright then. Since you were honest, you can pass. Go."
The four seniors strolled away laughing, leaving Thomas standing frozen. His ten thousand was gone. His pride was trampled.
But strangely, Thomas wasn't angry.
As he tidied his slightly messy clothes, he felt a speck of strange relief in his chest. This pain of humiliation... it felt fair.
This is even, Thomas thought bitterly. Back then I embarrassed Dimas in front of everyone. Back then I made my friends feel stupid. Now it's my turn to be trampled.
Thomas accepted the bullying not because he was weak, but because he felt he deserved it. Every insult, every confiscation, he regarded as an installment on his debt of sin to Dimas that would never be paid off.
Thomas walked one and a half kilometers under the stinging afternoon sun. His stomach was hungry, his throat dry, but he allowed the discomfort. He enjoyed his punishment.
***
Arriving home, Thomas didn't rest immediately. He just put down his bag, washed his face, and prepared to go out again. Today was Tuesday, his schedule to tutor private lessons.
Since graduating junior high, Thomas decided to look for extra money by teaching Math to elementary students around a housing complex somewhat far from his home. He was paid thirty thousand rupiah per one-hour session. The money was enough to pay for his workbooks and other school needs without having to ask his parents.
Now, Thomas sat on the terrace of his student's house, a 4th-grade elementary student named Fajar.
"Is this... is this cross-multiplied, Brother Thomas?" asked Fajar hesitantly while biting the end of his pencil.
Thomas looked at the answer in Fajar's notebook. Totally wrong. The logic was a mess.
At that second, his old instinct appeared. The devil's voice in his head whispered: This kid is so stupid. He can't even do a problem like this? So slow. How hard can it be?
Sharp words were ready to slide off the tip of his tongue. In the past, he would have surely launched sarcasm to make this kid feel small so Thomas could feel superior.
But then, he remembered the truth hurled by Chelsea.
Thomas bit his lip hard, holding back the mean sentences. He didn't want to be that monster again. He didn't care about Fajar personally; he only cared about his own fear of karma.
Thomas took a deep breath, suppressing his ego deep down.
"No, Jar," said Thomas. His voice was flat, but he tried hard to make it sound patient. "Don't rush. Try to look again at the example I made earlier."
"It's hard, Brother..." Fajar complained.
"Read it again slowly," Thomas ordered, his hand clenched under the table holding back his frustration at the stupidity in front of him. "We'll repeat it until you can."
He taught not with affection, but with fear. Fear that if he insulted this child, his past sins would become heavier.
***
Afternoon crawled toward evening when Thomas returned to his own home.
The atmosphere of the house was still the same as in previous years. Cold and transactional. In the living room, Dad was sitting reading the newspaper.
"What did you get on the Physics test yesterday?" shot Dad without turning his head as soon as he heard Thomas's footsteps. A standard question. There was no 'how was school?', only a performance audit.
"Ninety, Dad," Thomas answered quietly while taking off his shoes.
Dad lowered his newspaper slightly, staring sharply at Thomas from behind his glasses. "Why not a hundred? Not careful enough again?"
"Yes, Dad. Sorry."
Thomas answered with a flat tone. There was no longer excessive fear. In the past, every criticism from Dad felt like the end of the world. Now, it all just sounded like noise passing by. He no longer chased validation from Dad, not because he didn't need it, but because guilt had already filled him first.
Thomas walked toward the kitchen. There, he crossed paths with Eben.
His older brother had just come home. Eben had now graduated from high school with grades that were certainly very poor. He didn't continue to college due to financial limitations and his indeed limited abilities. Eben worked odd jobs, sometimes helping lift goods at the market, sometimes scavenging plastic bottles.
Eben was sitting on the kitchen floor to rest, his clothes shabby and his face dull.
"Hi Thomas!" greeted Eben with a wide smile, his innocent eyes sparkling.
Thomas only glanced briefly, his gaze empty. He didn't snap at Eben like before, but he also didn't care. To him, Eben was just a piece of furniture that sometimes made noise.
"Move aside, Brother. I want to get a drink," said Thomas coldly.
Eben's smile faded slightly, but he immediately shifted his body awkwardly. "Oh... right. Sorry, Thomas."
Thomas got a drink, then immediately turned to enter his room without looking back.