Sky and I made our way through the bustling corridor, eventually stepping into the English classroom. The space had the air of a lecture hall, with gently sloping rows of desks fanning out toward a central platform where a sleek wooden podium stood. Large windows on one side of the room let in plenty of natural light, giving it a warm, open feel. The room buzzed with the low hum of student chatter, but as soon as I entered, it felt as though all eyes turned to me.
Sky gave me an encouraging nudge. "You'll be fine," he whispered with a grin.
Near the podium stood a young woman, likely the teacher, her demeanor relaxed yet poised. She couldn't have been much older than us—mid to late twenties at most. She was dressed casually but smartly in a loose, cream-colored blouse and dark slacks, her hair pulled into a simple ponytail. Despite her youth, she carried herself with the confidence of someone fully in control of the room.
The teacher looked up as I hesitated near the entrance. "Ah, you must be our new student," she said, her voice warm but commanding enough to quiet the murmurs around the room.
I nodded, stepping forward. "Yes, that's me," I said, my voice steady but quiet.
"Well, welcome!" she said with a bright smile. "Go ahead, introduce yourself to the class."
I glanced at Sky, who gave me a thumbs-up, then turned to face the room. "Hi, I'm Marx... Marx Cartez," I said, feeling my voice waver slightly. "I just transferred here. Looking forward to meeting everyone."
Polite murmurs filled the room, and just as I was about to step back, a movement in the front row caught my attention. A girl was watching me intently, her chin resting lightly on her hand, a faint, elegant smile playing on her lips. She had long, dark hair that cascaded over her shoulders and an air of quiet confidence that made her stand out. Her dark eyes lingered on mine for just a second longer than seemed casual, leaving me momentarily stunned.
"Great, Marx," Ms. Harper said, snapping me back to reality. "You can take a seat. Anywhere you're comfortable."
I quickly made my way to where Sky was sitting, sinking into the seat beside him.
"You did fine," Sky whispered, though his grin was teasing. "But did you see her?"
"Who?" I asked, feigning ignorance, though I already had an idea who he meant.
"That girl in the front row," he said, leaning closer. "The one who looked like she walked straight out of a perfume ad. She was definitely checking you out."
I could feel my ears burning. "You're imagining things."
Sky laughed quietly. "Sure, man. Just saying, if I were you, I'd make a mental note of that."
Before I could respond, Ms. Harper clapped her hands to get the class's attention. "All right, everyone! Let's start. My name is Ms. Harper, and if you haven't noticed by now, I like to do things a little differently in my classes."
A murmur of excitement rippled through the room.
"To me, English isn't just about grammar rules and dissecting novels," she continued. "It's about understanding how we communicate and why it matters. So today, instead of a boring lecture, we're going to do something fun—and hopefully, a little thought-provoking."
She reached behind the podium and pulled out a stack of envelopes. The class exchanged curious glances.
"Inside these envelopes," Ms. Harper explained, "are short prompts. Some are questions, some are scenarios, and some are even quotes. You'll work in pairs to discuss them, and then we'll share a few of your thoughts with the class. The goal is to explore language and ideas in a way that feels real to you."
As she began handing out envelopes, I couldn't help but glance toward the front row again. The girl—Sky's "perfume ad" muse—was already deep in conversation with her partner, her voice low and melodic.
"Focus, Marx," Sky said, smirking as he elbowed me. "We've got our own envelope to deal with."
He tore it open eagerly. Inside was a slip of paper with a single question written in bold letters:
"If you could erase one word from the English language, what would it be and why?"
Sky raised an eyebrow. "Well, this should be interesting."
I smirked despite myself. "Okay, what's your first pick?"
"Hmm," he said, leaning back in his chair. "How about 'moist'? People hate that word."
I laughed. "You're not wrong. But maybe we should think deeper—something with more impact."
"Fair point," Sky said, tapping the desk thoughtfully. "What about words that cause harm? Like slurs or something divisive."
I nodded, the conversation unexpectedly pulling me in. "Yeah, but then it gets tricky. Would erasing the word really erase the harm? Or just sweep it under the rug?"
Sky looked impressed. "Not bad, Marx. You might actually be good at this."
As we continued tossing ideas back and forth, the room buzzed with animated discussions, some pairs laughing, others debating with passion. Ms. Harper wandered the aisles, occasionally chiming in to guide or challenge a group's thinking.
When it was time to share, a few pairs presented their answers, sparking lively debates. Some had chosen humorous words, like "literally," while others went for deeply personal or cultural choices.
When Ms. Harper called on us, Sky nudged me. "You take this one."
I hesitated, but then stood up. "We decided on the word 'hate,'" I began, my voice steady. "It's a strong word that's often overused or misused. It shuts down dialogue instead of opening it up, and maybe if we didn't have the word, people would be forced to express themselves in less extreme ways."
A few students nodded, and Ms. Harper smiled. "Interesting perspective, Marx. Thoughtful, and very relevant."
As I sat back down, Sky leaned over. "Nice work. And by the way," he added in a whisper, "Perfume Ad Girl was totally listening. Just saying."
I rolled my eyes, trying to ignore the flicker of curiosity tugging at me. As we left the room, I couldn't help but glance over my shoulder. Carmilla—Sky's nickname was surprisingly fitting—was gathering her things gracefully, her expression unreadable. As we moved, Sky leaned closer.
"So, I looked her up in the yearbook app during class," he whispered conspiratorially.
"Seriously?" I asked, half-exasperated.
"Hey, you're the new guy. Someone's gotta give you the rundown," he said with a smirk. "Her name's Carmilla Devereux. Top student. Scary good at everything. But from what I hear, kind of hard to get to know."
I raised an eyebrow. "And you're telling me this because...?"
"Because she noticed you, dude," Sky said, nudging me with his elbow as we left the room. "You're interesting. Whether you like it or not."
I shook my head, but his words lingered as we stepped into the hallway. Maybe Sky was right. Maybe today wasn't just about settling into a new school.