Chapter 2

Rumors about Miss Garcia started spreading like wildfire around the school.

She swapped out her usual flashy outfits for plain, casual clothes. Even her signature high heels were replaced with flats.

It was obvious she was trying to clean up her image.

But, as these things go, the gossip only got worse.

“Miss Garcia isn’t wearing heels anymore—do you think she’s pregnant?”

“Totally. My mom was the same way when she was having my little brother. Loose clothes, flat shoes, the whole deal.”

“So… who do you think the dad is?”

“Do you really need to ask?”

The students burst into laughter, their voices echoing through the halls.

Miss Garcia must have overheard because she suddenly yelled, “Quiet!” before dragging the group of whispering students into the hallway.

Her scolding was loud enough for the entire corridor to hear.

The next day, she returned to her old wardrobe—heels, tight skirts, the works—like she was trying to prove she wasn’t pregnant.

But what good did it do?

The rumors persisted.

Miss Garcia no longer called Mason Taylor to her office as often. Instead, she started targeting me.

“Clean the office.”

“Take these books to the principal’s office.”

“Fetch me a cup of water.”

She treated me like her personal assistant.

But the real kicker? She constantly called me out in class.

In our second year of high school, we had weekly quizzes for every subject. The homeroom teacher—Miss Garcia—was always the proctor.

One day, she held up my quiz results in front of the entire class, waving the paper like a trophy.

“Some students spend all their time running to the teacher’s office, yet their grades keep dropping.”

Then she held up Mason’s quiz alongside another classmate’s.

“Now, look at these students. They don’t waste time hanging around teachers, and yet their scores keep improving. See? When you focus on learning, progress happens naturally.”

She stared at me, her voice dripping with condescension.

“And then there are students who play little tricks to grab a teacher’s attention. But when the teacher tries to help, they repay it with betrayal. It’s disappointing—no, heartbreaking—for a teacher.”

Her strategy was clever.

By keeping me out of the classroom and constantly sending me on errands, I couldn’t keep up with the lessons. Naturally, my grades started to slip.

But the rest of the class didn’t know that.

To them, it just looked like I was failing because I wasn’t trying.

During one of her rants, the head of academics, Mrs. Watson, happened to walk past our classroom.

She paused when she noticed me standing at the back.

“What’s going on here, Miss Garcia?” Mrs. Watson asked.

Miss Garcia let out a dramatic sigh, pretending to look concerned.

“Oh, it’s nothing. Amanda’s grades improved for a while, but now they’ve dropped again. I’m just trying to figure out how to help her.”

Mrs. Watson frowned and picked up my quiz paper from Miss Garcia’s desk.

“Hmm, Amanda, this isn’t great,” she said, scanning my answers.

Then, her expression softened.

“Come see me in my office after class. I have some practice tests—you can copy them and share them with your classmates. They’re actual exam questions. I think they’ll help.”

I nodded quickly. “Thank you, Mrs. Watson!”

Mrs. Watson was a senior teacher in her 50s, highly respected by both students and staff. Even the principal deferred to her judgment.

She gave me a kind smile before leaving, completely unaware of how Miss Garcia’s face had darkened.

When Mrs. Watson left, Miss Garcia turned back to the class, her voice laced with sarcasm.

“Well, everyone, let’s all thank Amanda for being so helpful. Without her, you wouldn’t have access to these practice tests.”

But the class didn’t pick up on her tone. Instead, they cheered sincerely.

“Thanks, Amanda!”

I stood up, bowed slightly, and said with a small smile, “Sorry for dragging the class down. I’ll try my best to catch up.”