Back at school, Aken’s expulsion was the talk of every corridor. One slap, and he was gone. Teachers whispered about it, some guilty but silent, knowing no other school would take him. The message was clear. Nandy had won, and no one dared cross her. Her control tightened. Teachers ensured she passed even though she was the poorest performer. The students watched in fear, and Adana could barely escape her. Nandy soon roped Adana back in, forcing her to run errands and do her homework, an obedient reminder to everyone of Nandy’s power.
Meanwhile, Aken, now seventeen, found his footing with Uncle Cha in the workshop. Skilled and focused, he drew new customers, their extra income finally allowing his mother to leave her second job. Life at home grew warmer, dinners filled with smiles and hope. Yet in the back of his mind, Aken could not shake his worry for Adana. Every time he tightened a bolt or fixed a flat, he promised himself that one day he would make things right. His journey was far from over. He was building a future his own way.
It started like any other class, with a new teacher, Mr. Bell, calling out scores from the recent test. He was still unfamiliar with the faces in the room, and when he reached the bottom ten, he called the names without looking up. “A ninety. Twelve percent,” he announced, moving down his list. As he continued calling out the lowest scores, a few students tried to stifle giggles. Nandy, seated near the front, froze in shock. No one had dared to announce her grade in public before. But here was this new teacher, so clueless that he did not even know who she was. Nandy’s eyes narrowed, her face darkening with anger as she noticed the slight smiles and muted laughs around her. She rose from her seat, shooting a cold glare across the room. Her voice cut through the whispers. “You, and you, and you. Come here. Kneel at the front. Hands on your heads.” She pointed at the students who had dared to snicker. The room fell silent, and the students exchanged nervous glances, hesitating.
Mr. Bell, noticing the commotion, looked up in surprise. “Young lady, what do you think you’re doing?” he asked, his tone calm but firm. Nandy crossed her arms, defiance written all over her face. “They laughed at me,” she replied sharply. “They deserve to kneel. And you,” she added, her tone cold, “you should join them.” A chuckle escaped Mr. Bell as he glanced around the room, thinking it was some sort of joke. “Very funny. Now take your seat,” he said, waving her back. But Nandy did not move. She remained standing, her jaw clenched, staring him down. The students she had called forward stood frozen, unsure of what to do. Mr. Bell, seeing the tense looks, became impatient, gesturing for everyone to return to their seats.