Alam arrived at his first class of the day:
Math 101 | Efua Oduro
"Good, the bell hasn't rung yet. I'm on time," Alam said with relief.
The bell clanged immediately after his words, shrill and metallic, vibrating through the classroom walls. He groaned in frustration, tilting his head back, the sound still ringing in his ears.
He walked into the room, his club foot dragging against the linoleum floor with a dull scrape. The air smelled faintly of chalk dust and pencil shavings, mingled with the faint musk of old textbooks stacked along the back wall.
The teacher sat at her desk, a plus‑size woman with deep brown skin. Her brownish‑orange curls caught the fluorescent light, bouncing slightly as she shifted. A green headband framed her face, matching the floral dress that spread across her lap. She thumbed through a glossy sporting goods catalog, the pages rasping as she flipped.
"You're late," she said, her voice firm but distracted, eyes still scanning the catalog.
"I'm sorry, I was just outside the door," Alam replied, his tone defensive but subdued.
"Make sure you're on time from now on, or it's demerits," she said, snapping the catalog shut with a flat thud.
"It's just, there was this detective and then the Dean—"
She cut him off, her tone sharp as chalk breaking. "Murphy's law!"
"Huh?" he questioned, confused.
"Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong, Mister Lestari. Plan accordingly from now on."
"Yes, Miss Oduro," he said, lowering his head, the fluorescent light glinting off his damp hairline.
"Have a seat."
Alam spotted the first empty desk he could and plopped down. The chair creaked beneath his weight, its cold metal frame pressing against his thighs. He exhaled, shoulders slumping, the faint hum of the overhead lights filling the silence around him.
The classroom buzzed faintly with the scratch of pencils when a voice cut through to Alam's right.
"Hey."
"You're new," another followed from his left.
Two boys with almond‑shaped eyes stared at him intensely from each side, their gazes sharp enough to make his skin prickle. Their cheekbones were high and angular, their skin smooth with a warm golden tone that caught the classroom light. Each had straight black lashes that framed their eyes, and their brows were flat and level, giving their faces a severe symmetry. Their noses were soft and round, their lips thin and pressed tight, lending them an air of clinical detachment. One boy had short, spiky dark‑red hair that flared like embers against his complexion, his jawline sharp beneath the glow. The other had medium‑length dark‑blue hair with bangs that draped low, shadowing his eyes and making his expression unreadable.
"Um…" Alam whispered, shifting uneasily in his chair.
"Hmn…" the red‑haired boy on his right said, his tone clinical. "Subject appears to be—"
"Male," the blue‑haired boy finished, his voice flat, almost robotic.
"He's approximately—"
"Fourteen years old," the blue‑haired boy concluded again, their words snapping back and forth like a metronome.
"Guys," Alam said, his voice tight, but they ignored him.
"Height—"
"165.1 cm (5"5)," the blue‑haired boy rattled off, eyes scanning Alam like a specimen.
"Ancestry appears to be—" the red‑haired boy said, lifting Alam's arm with cold fingers.
"Of the South East," the blue‑haired boy finished, his bangs brushing against his cheek as he leaned closer.
"Are you guys twins?" Alam asked, confused, his pulse quickening.
"Of course," the blue‑haired boy responded.
"Why else would we finish—" the red‑haired boy started.
"Clipping each other's toenails," the blue‑haired boy concluded.
"Gross," Alam muttered, recoiling slightly.
"Don't dwell on it—" the red‑haired boy said.
"It's purely for science," his brother finished, eyes gleaming.
"Speaking of—" the red‑haired boy began.
"Can we take a sample of your essence?" the blue‑haired boy completed, pulling a syringe from his pocket. The metal glinted under the classroom lights, sharp and sudden.
"My what?! No!" Alam said, eyes wide, heart hammering. "Are you guys insane—" He flinched as a sharp prick pierced his shoulder. "Oww!" he shouted, clutching the spot.
"Too late," the red‑haired boy said, his grin crooked.
"We got what we need," the blue‑haired boy added, tucking the needle away.
Alam looked back and forth between them, trapped in the surreal absurdity of the moment.
"What are you idiots doing?!" Miss Oduro shouted, her chair scraping loudly against the floor as she stood.
"Oh my brother," the red‑haired boy said, voice flat.
" It seems we've attracted the attention of the authorities," the blue‑haired boy said.
"Time to go," the red-haired boy said.
They bolted out of the classroom, sneakers squeaking against the linoleum, laughter trailing behind them.
"I'm so tired of you delinquents!" Miss Oduro shouted, her voice echoing through the room as the door slammed shut.
Alam sat frozen, rubbing his shoulder, his breath shallow. "Who were those crazy guys?" he muttered, his shoulder still stinging.