The first major incident came exactly when it should be the chemistry class, the day of a major exam that would define the semester.
I slid into the back row, the weight of this body settling around me.
Difficult to adapt in different body but my mind was steady, focused. I didn't need to look at the test.
My eyes were on her. Charlotte. She sat a few rows ahead, pencil hovering over formulas, brow furrowed. Every tap, every hesitant glance around the room like it all mattered.
Then I saw Julia. The predictable bully with seat carefully chosen next to Charlotte's, smile bright, voice soft enough to carry. "Good luck, Charlotte," she said, a false tremor of worry in her tone. "I'm so nervous, I'll probably fail."
Performance. It dripped from her every gesture. I had seen it coming before it happened.
The fountain pen. The flick. The dark blue ink arcing across Charlotte's exam.
She froze then her face turned pale with lips parted.
The room leaned in, sensing something, but not seeing it clearly.
"Oh my gosh," she whispered, voice trembling. "No… no, this can't be…" She stared at the spreading ink like it was a storm swallowing her entire world.
Julia gasped and fell into practiced tears. "I...I'm so sorry, Charlotte! My hand slipped! I'm so clumsy!"
The teacher's eyes swept the room. "What happened here?"
"I… I think she bumped me," Julia said, pointing with a trembling finger. "I told her I was nervous, and she gave me such a mean look…"
Charlotte's hands shook over the ruined paper. "I… I didn't…" Her voice was small, swallowed by the room, fragile and defiant at the same time.
Nobody believe her with glares at her as she was the predator not the victim.
I must do something so my voice cut through the quiet. "Sir," I said, calm and measured, "I don't think Charlotte could have bumped that pen. Look at the angle and timing. She's sitting perfectly still. The pen flies across the desk from the exact point Julia is holding it. The motion doesn't match a mistake."
All eyes turned to me, the cold class president is speaking for someone for the first time .
Charlotte's eyes widened, a flicker of hope igniting. Julia's smile faltered slightly.
"I… what do you mean?" the teacher asked, leaning over.
I gestured toward the room as if outlining invisible lines in the air. "If Charlotte had bumped her, the pen would have moved differently. The force, the trajectory, it doesn't match her position. The only possibility is that Julia uncapped it herself and flicked it deliberately."
There was a pause. I saw Charlotte's hands tremble slightly, relief beginning to bloom. Julia blinked rapidly, a split second of panic flickering in her eyes.
"I… I—" she stammered.
I pressed on. "Sir, you can check from the classroom camera. It records the angle from above. You'll see exactly what happened. Charlotte doesn't move. Julia's hand is the only one responsible. The ink spray is deliberate, not accidental."
The teacher's expression shifted. Brow furrowed, eyes narrowing. "Miss Daniels. Is this true?"
Julia's voice was small, faltering, the perfect contrast to her earlier confidence. "I… I… it wasn't an accident. I wanted to—"
She broke off, cheeks burning. "I was only playing prank with her, i didnot mean to do this."
Silence filled the room. Charlotte's hands shook over the ruined paper. She whispered, "I… I didn't…"
I leaned back slightly, letting the weight of the truth settle. Charlotte's lips trembled, trying to speak, trying to say thank you, but words caught in her throat.
The classroom froze. Julia's color drained, then flared crimson. The teacher's eyes narrowed. "Miss Daniels. My office. Now." Then he looked at Charlotte. "Miss Vance. Come with me. We'll get a fresh copy. Quiet, uninterrupted."
Charlotte's hands were still shaking, and she looked over her shoulder at me. Her lips trembled as if she wanted to say something, maybe thank me, maybe asking why. I only nodded once before sinking back into my seat, pretending nothing had happened.
She gathered her things, murmuring, "I… thank you."
I only nodded once, silent.
Not yet in words, not yet in acknowledgment. I had rewritten the first thread of her story, and she didn't even fully know it.