St. Thomas College of Arts and ScienceMidday
| Freshers' Day FalloutProfessor Martin Luther's chaotic intro was a distant memory by the time the next teacher swept in a stern figure who oozed discipline. She didn't bother with pleasantries, diving straight into a lecture on the college's "code of conduct.
""Listen up," she snapped, her voice like a gavel. "We've got standards:
(1) No flashy, revealing clothes—keep it proper.
(2) Girls, tie your hair back—no loose waves. And more…"
She listed rule after rule, wrapping up with, "Break these, and it's a $2 fine.
No exceptions." No name, no small talk—she just launched into her lesson.
The class was a total drag. Clara zoned out, scribbling in her notebook to stay awake until the break bell finally chimed.
As the teacher strode out, she halted at the door, then spun back around like she'd had a sudden epiphany. Fixing her gaze on Clara at the front bench, she said, "Hey, you I need a favor. There's a survey report in the main hall, fourth floor, brown cover. Can you grab it?"
"Yes, ma'am!" Clara replied, springing up. Jackpot—time to check out this place before I'm stuck in here all day, she thought, practically skipping out. She took the stairs slow, hopping every other step, relishing the mini-adventure as she reached the top floor.
Quantum Computing Batch
"Yo, Lucas, still no sign of Matt," Adrian said, kicking back against a desk."Probably sulking in that dark room again," Lucas replied, tossing a pen in the air."Hmm, should we go look?" Adrian mused, but Lucas was already distracted. "Hey, Krissy!" he shouted, bolting after a girl he'd spotted across the room."Typical," Adrian grumbled, shaking his head as he wandered out.
Fourth Floor
Clara hit the fourth floor, pausing to catch her breath. The place was eerie—dark, still, no lights or chatter. She crept along, peeking into rooms with a mix of curiosity and unease.
"What's the deal up here? No lights, no people?" she muttered.
She finally reached the main hall at the far end, flicked on the lights, snagged the brown-covered report, switched off the lights, and started back.
Halfway down the hall, she passed a room where a low, ragged voice cut through the silence. "Why'd you leave me? What was it all for?"
The words dripped with anguish someone nursing a fresh breakup wound. Inside, hunched in the shadows, was a figure Clara didn't recognize but anyone who'd seen him storm off earlier, all brooding intensity and clenched fists, would know it was Matt Grayson, the campus star still reeling from Reena's absence. The darkness hid his face from Clara, keeping her clueless about who she was about to tangle with.
Lingering near the window, she called out softly, "Uh, hey there?"
The voice shot back, sharp and bristling. "Who's that?"
"Can I come in?" Clara asked, testing the vibe.
"Whoever you are, get the hell outta this hall now," he snarled, his tone biting.
That flipped Clara's switch. "Who do you think you are, huh? King of the castle? Some guy crying over a breakup doesn't run this place!" she snapped,
jutting her chin out.Her words lit a fire under him.
For a moment, the sting of Reena faded, replaced by pure, blazing anger. "Listen, kid, I don't care who you are—you're gonna regret running your mouth. You'll be crying when I'm done!" he roared, his voice echoing off the walls.
"Oh, save it, sob story!" Clara laughed, throwing her head back with a mocking grin.
That pushed him over the edge. He grabbed a metal tray from the desk—his hands shaking with fury, the same hands that had gripped a phone in the dorm all those nights ago and hurled it at the window with a deafening crash. The sound sent Clara sprinting, her heart hammering.
He charged out after her, but by the time he hit the hall, all that lingered was the faint jingle of her hair clip fading into the distance. She'd vanished into the shadows.
To be continued…