Rhea's Pov
The next day, the classroom smelled like chalk and unresolved tension.
I knew it was going to be bad when Mrs. Chatterjee walked in without greeting anyone. No "good morning," no fake smile. Just vibes of today someone will suffer.
Spoiler: it was us.
She opened the attendance register like it was a list of suspects.
"Aditi."
"Present, ma'am."
Smile.
"Arjun."
"Present."
Nod.
Then—
"Samar."
"Alive," Samar replied.
The class snickered.
Mrs. Chatterjee didn't.
"Present," she corrected coldly.
"Depends on the subject," he muttered.
I kicked his shoe.
The moment of doom arrived quickly.
"Before we begin," she said, adjusting her glasses, "I want to address a pattern."
Ah yes. The pattern.
Otherwise known as the last row exists.
"Some students," she continued, eyes locking on us, "mistake confidence for competence."
I smiled.
Because if she wanted war, I had free periods.
"Ma'am," I said, raising my hand.
She hesitated. Already annoyed. "Yes, Rhea?"
"Just curious," I said sweetly, "is this about yesterday's test? Because if it is, I can help clarify."
Front benches stiffened.
She frowned. "You will speak when asked."
"Of course," I nodded. "Just thought transparency helps learning."
Kabir coughed. Neil—now sitting third bench—looked at the floor.
Mrs. Chatterjee turned to the board.
"Let's revise. Aditi, explain question three."
Aditi froze.
She stood up slowly. "Ma'am, it was… um… the answer was… like… based on the definition?"
Based on.
Iconic.
Mrs. Chatterjee smiled. "Yes, very good. Sit."
I inhaled.
Deeply.
"Ma'am," I said again, louder this time.
The entire class turned.
"Yes?" she snapped.
"Can I try?" I asked. "Just for comparison."
The room went silent.
This was it.
Point of no return.
She paused. Then, reluctantly, "Go ahead."
I stood.
Explained the concept.
Connected it to the example.
Didn't overdo it. Didn't flex.
Just… answered.
When I finished, the silence felt heavy.
Mrs. Chatterjee didn't praise me.
She changed the topic.
That's when Samar stood up.
"Ma'am," he said calmly, "if answers don't matter, just handwriting and sitting position, please tell us. We'll rearrange."
Gasps.
I closed my eyes.
Kabir muttered, "He's done."
Mrs. Chatterjee's face hardened. "Sit down immediately."
Samar didn't.
"With respect," he continued, "you say merit matters. But you only look in one direction."
She pointed at him. "You are out of line."
Kabir stood up.
The room lost its mind.
"Ma'am," Kabir said quietly, "if speaking facts is out of line, then maybe the line is wrong."
Neil looked up.
Front benchers looked uncomfortable.
Teachers hate that.
Mrs. Chatterjee laughed sharply. "So now the last bench decides fairness?"
I raised my hand one last time.
She ignored it.
So I spoke anyway.
"No, ma'am," I said. "We're just asking to be seen."
That did it.
"Enough," she snapped. "All three of you—principal's office."
Samar grinned. "Field trip."
As we walked out, whispers followed us.
"Disrespectful."
"They think they're smart."
"They'll regret this."
Neil caught my eye.
For the first time, he looked unsure.
And for the first time, I didn't feel bad.
Outside the class, Samar exhaled.
"Well," he said, "that escalated beautifully."
Kabir adjusted his bag. "This isn't over."
I nodded.
Because the truth was—
We didn't lose anything.
We'd already been underestimated.
And now?
They were paying attention.🤔😳