The final bell rang through the hallways, sharp and echoing, sending students spilling out of classrooms in a rush of voices, laughter, and slamming lockers. Backpacks bounced as everyone hurried toward freedom, the building emptying fast until only the faint smell of dry-erase markers and old books remained. Lola stayed seated in the back of the literature classroom, heart beating a little faster than usual. She watched as the last few students left, then stood up, smoothing her hands over her notebook. Guest remained at the front—dark-humored, sharp-tongued, and intimidating to most. His dry, cutting wit and intense presence made him scary to many students, but that was exactly what Lola respected about him. He didn’t sugarcoat things. He pushed hard. And beneath the intimidating exterior, she’d come to admire his strength of mind and the way he challenged everyone to think deeper. A couple of months earlier, after she’d struggled with a major essay, he’d quietly offered: If you’re willing to put in real extra work—meetings, revisions, and a deeper project—I’ll give you the opportunity to earn a stronger grade. She had been too nervous to accept then. But she’d thought about it a lot. She wanted to rise to the challenge. She genuinely liked and respected him as a teacher, even if his scary intensity made her a little anxious. Now the room was silent. Lola walked up to his desk, clutching her notebook. Guest turned from the whiteboard, raising an eyebrow, his expression as stern and darkly amused as ever.

Lola, he said, voice low and dry. Still here. Brave one today, aren’t you?