Alam arrived at his next class:
Chemistry 301 | Dr. Farid Abbasi
He was the last one through the door. The faint scent of ethanol and chalk dust hung in the air, mingling with the metallic scent of the lab tables. His Chemistry teacher greeted him with a soft, warm smile. He had a strong, straight nose with a slightly rounded tip, high cheekbones that gave his profile definition, and deep‑set, almond‑shaped eyes framed by thick lashes. His brows were dark and gently arched, lending his gaze a natural gravity. His skin was olive‑toned, smooth but lined faintly at the corners of his eyes.
"Everyone, I'd like you to welcome Alam Lestari to the class," he said, motioning to Alam.
All eyes in the room turned to Alam. The scrape of chairs and the rustle of notebooks filled the silence.
"Huh? Me?" Alam questioned as he glanced around the room.
The room filled with whispers, hushed voices bouncing off the tiled walls. "Huh? Who's this kid?"
"Isn't he Fitz's new pet?" another student muttered.
"Why's he in this class? Isn't he a Freshman?" the questions continued.
Alam's teacher wrapped his arm around Alam's shoulder, placing his hand on it. His palm was firm, steadying Alam against the weight of the stares.
He dressed with understated elegance, the way a seasoned academic might. A crisp white dress shirt lay beneath a charcoal vest, the buttons polished but modest. His trousers were neatly pressed, and a pair of well‑worn leather shoes grounded him with quiet authority. Around his neck, he wore no tie, only the open collar of his shirt, which softened his formality and gave him an approachable air. A silver watch peeked from beneath his cuff, its face simple and uncluttered, a reflection of his preference for clarity over ornament.
"Alam here scored exceptionally high on his aptitude test for science and biology," his teacher said, patting Alam on the back. "He's the first freshman in over a decade to take my class."
"Ladida," one student said, heavy with sarcasm.
Alam's teacher closed his eyes, forced a smile, and said through gritted teeth, "We celebrate brilliance in this class. Now praise him, or it's demerits for you all."
Applause and cheers erupted, the clapping echoing sharply against the tiled floor, followed by words of celebration.
"Whoo!"
"Let's go, freshman!"
"You're the best, Haram!"
"Welcome, Mister Lestari," his teacher said, with a genuine smile.
"T-thank you," Alam replied, his voice cracking slightly.
"Now, go have a seat. We have an interesting assignment today."
Alam glanced around the room, not sure where to sit. The squeak of chair legs against linoleum made him wince.
"Oh, we have assigned seating in this class, Mister Lestari," his teacher said.
"Great," Alam muttered, wondering who he'd get stuck with.
"You'll be sitting there, next to Miss Gracehold," his teacher motioned.
Alam looked over and spotted Cindy smiling up at him, her eyes catching the fluorescent light.
"No way…" Alam muttered, not believing his luck.
"Hey, handsome," she said.
"Oh, she'll also be your lab partner this semester," his teacher added.
Alam nearly fainted from pure joy.
"I meant for you to have a seat today, Mister Lestari," his teacher said.
"Oh, right."
Alam sat next to Cindy. She stared at him with a soft smile, her perfume faintly sweet against the sterile lab air.
"Do I have something on my face?" Alam asked.
"Alam, I didn't know you were a genius," Cindy said.
"Oh, no. I'm not," Alam said bashfully, his cheeks burning.
"You don't need to be shy about it," Cindy said. "Big brains are a turn on," she added, leaning in to whisper in his ear, her breath warm against his skin, rubbing her leg against his.
"Is there a problem, Mister Lestari?" his teacher asked, his voice cutting through the hum of the burners.
"No, we're fine," Cindy replied cheerfully. "Isn't that right, Alam?" she asked, turning back to him, grabbing him by the tie, and pulling him in close.
Alam gulped, "Y-yes, we're fine!" he replied, his throat dry.
"You know, Alam," Cindy began, "My teenie tiny bwain has been havin' so mush twubble in diss hawd cwass," she continued with baby talk, leaning in closer with each word. "Do you think you can help me?" she asked.
Alam's temperature rose; sweat prickled at his forehead, and he began sweating bullets. "Um, um, I—" he stammered.
"Alright, class," his teacher said, getting everyone's attention. His voice carried over the faint hiss of gas lines and the clink of glassware. "Now that you've all had a chance to settle in, it's time for today's lesson."
Dr. Abbasi walked around the room pushing a cart. The wheels squeaked faintly, and the smell of damp earth rose from the glass containers. He stopped in front of each student and handed them the following:
A glass container of muddy water, murky and smelling faintly of soil An empty stainless steel bowl, cool to the touch A clear plastic bottle, light and hollow A metal tripod, its legs cold and rigid A Bunsen burner, smelling faintly of gas A clean, dry cloth, rough against the fingers
"What's all this for?" Alam asked, curiosity sharpening his tone.
"I'll explain shortly, Mister Lestari," his teacher said.
"Doctor Abbasi is more of a 'hands-on' kind of teacher," Cindy said, twirling the cloth between her fingers.
"Alright, class, now that you all have your supplies for today's experiment, let me show you what you'll be learning," his teacher said.
Alam stared at him with genuine curiosity, while the rest of the class moaned and groaned, the sound like a low wave rolling across the room.
"Today you'll be learning how to make contaminated water drinkable."
Alam's eyes widened, and he leaned in, the earthy smell of the muddy water filling his nose.
"Step One: Place the cloth over the empty stainless steel bowl and pour the water through the cloth. This removes dirt and debris," Dr. Abbasi explained.
The classes groaning continued, chairs scraping as students slouched.
"Why do you always teach us nonsense?" one student moaned.
"We can just buy bottled water from machines," another student added.
"Yeah, when are we ever gonna need this crap?" another student questioned.
"It's better to know it and not need it than need it and not know it," Alam replied, his voice firm.
The students groaned even louder, paper rustling as they balled up sheets.
"Shut up!" one of the students snapped at him, before he received a volley of crumpled paper balls catapulted at him from surrounding students. The paper thudded against his desk, scattering across the floor.
"Now, now, class. Mister Lestari is correct," his teacher said. "Step Two," he continued. "Boil the water to destroy harmful microbes," the professor explained, striking a match. The sulfur smell filled the air as he lit the Bunsen burner, its flame hissing blue beneath the tripod. He placed his metal bowl above it, and soon steam began to curl upward, carrying the earthy scent of heated mud.
"Is it really that simple, Doctor?" Alam asked enthusiastically, his eyes reflecting the flicker of the flame.
"It is," he replied, though there is one final step—"
The classroom door blasted open with a bang, the sound reverberating through the lab. A sharp acrid smell of smoke and singed fabric rushed in, stinging eyes and throats.
"What the?" the doctor questioned, shielding his eyes from the sudden burst of light.
"Not again," a student muttered.
"It seems our homemade explosive test was a success, brother," the red‑haired twin said, smoke clinging faintly to their clothes, leaving dark smudges on their sleeves.
"I concur," the blue‑haired twin replied, his grin flashing through the haze.
They stared at the doctor, then looked at each other for a moment before dashing away, their footsteps pounding against the floor, leaving faint black streaks of soot across the tiles.
"Get back here, you troublesome twins!" the doctor shouted, chasing after them, his voice echoing down the hallway. The acrid smoke trailed behind, curling into the lab and mixing with the earthy scent of boiling mud.
Cindy sighed, staring at her bowl of water resting on the tripod. The flame sputtered beneath it, casting shadows across her face.
"That wasn't enough excitement for you?" Alam questioned, still blinking against the sting of smoke in the air.
"Huh? What? No, those two are always up to something," Cindy said, waving her hand to clear the haze.
"Then what's wrong?" Alam asked.
"My water isn't boiling like Doctor Abbasi said," Cindy replied, frowning at the still surface.
"Oh, that's because you have the fire too low," Alam said, turning the fire up on her Bunsen burner.
The hiss grew louder, and bubbles began to rise from the bottom of Cindy's bowl. Steam curled upward, carrying the earthy scent of heated mud and filling the air with a damp warmth. Cindy's eyes grew wide with excitement as the water finally bubbled.
"See?" Alam said, his voice steady now, almost proud.
"Thank you, Alam!" Cindy exclaimed, planting a quick kiss on his cheek. The sudden warmth of her lips left him blushing furiously, his skin prickling as if the whole class had seen. Alam sat frozen, cheeks hot, heart racing, while Cindy leaned back with a satisfied grin, her eyes glinting in the fluorescent light.
The twins went dashing by again, their shoes squeaking against the linoleum, the faint smell of smoke trailing behind them. Dr. Abbasi was right on their tail, his polished shoes pounding the floor as his voice echoed through the lab.
"Get back here, you terrible twosome!" the doctor shouted, his tone sharp but still carrying that undercurrent of patience. "I'll have the dean lock you away in that room with that creature!"