Chapter 3

"Isn’t the music a little too loud?" I asked, raising my voice just enough to be heard over the blaring speakers.

"If you have a problem with it, get out of my car!" Kaylle snapped. "You don't get to tell me what to do—I do whatever I want!"

"I'm sorry," I said quietly, feeling defeated.

Kaylle rolled her eyes, then slammed the brakes, bringing the car to an abrupt stop. 

"Out!" she ordered.

"Please, Kaylle, I won’t say another word," I pleaded as tears welled up in my eyes.

"Don’t make me repeat myself. Get out before you regret it!" she spat.

"I’m sorry, Princess Kay..." I said, using her favorite nickname, trying to appease her. She loved being called "princess" because it played into her overblown sense of importance.

“Get in. I don’t have time for this,” she barked.

I quickly climbed back into the car, feeling a mix of relief and frustration. As we sped off again, I wiped my tears and tried to calm myself down.

Halfway through the drive, Kaylle glanced at me with a sly smile, the kind that always made my stomach churn.

“Did you finish my history homework?” she asked a hint of malice in her voice.

She knew how overwhelmed I was with all the chores she and her mother dumped on me, hoping I'd fail just so she could punish me more.

“Yes, I finished it,” I said, handing over the completed assignment. Her smirk faded for a second, surprised that I'd managed to complete the work. But she quickly covered her disappointment with a sneer.

Kaylle glanced through the papers, her name written boldly at the top—"KAYLLE ANDREWS." She skimmed over the answers and nodded approvingly.

“If I lose even one point, I’ll make your life worse than it already is. Got it?” she threatened.

I swallowed hard and nodded, quietly muttering, “Okay.”

The rest of the drive was silent, and I used the time to gather myself.

***

We finally arrived at school, and Kaylle parked in her usual spot. It was already past eight, and I had missed most of my first class—Biology.

I sighed in frustration. I hated being late. Detention was something I’d managed to avoid all these years, and I wasn’t planning on starting now.

I hurried towards my Biology class—Room 205. I liked the subject but couldn’t stand the teacher, Mr. Rios. His overly serious demeanor earned him the nickname “Mr. Riot Square.”

I slipped into the room as quietly as I could, keeping my head down.

"Good morning, sir," I said softly.

"Oh, Miss Anabella, how nice of you to join us today," Mr. Rios said sarcastically.

"I’m sorry, sir. It won’t happen again."

"Oh? Were you busy with... other duties?" he mocked, causing a few students to giggle.

Embarrassment washed over me, but I kept my gaze fixed on the floor, hoping the moment would pass quickly.

"You’ll have to answer a question to make up for your tardiness," he continued. "If not, you’ll be spending your lunch in detention."

"Okay, sir," I said nervously.

"What is reproduction?" he asked, pointing to the topic written on the board.

I swallowed and responded, "Reproduction is the biological process by which new offspring are produced from their parents. In animals, it typically involves the union of male and female reproductive cells, which leads to the development of new individuals."

Mr. Rios raised an eyebrow. "And can you explain the difference between sexual and asexual reproduction?"

"Yes, sir. Sexual reproduction involves two organisms—typically a male and a female—whereas asexual reproduction occurs without the need for a partner, as seen in many plants and some animals."

The class was silent, waiting for Mr. Rios's response. I could feel the tension building, wondering if I had said something wrong.

"Impressive," Mr. Rios finally said, surprising me. "You're now my favorite student. But make sure you’re not late again."

I nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Take your seat," he instructed.

I quickly found my seat, relief washing over me. At least I hadn’t completely embarrassed myself.

But even as I sat down, I could feel the eyes of my classmates on me, some filled with irritation, others with amusement. I tried to block them out and focused on taking notes for the rest of the lesson.

As the bell rang, signaling the end of class, Mr. Rios called out, "Goodbye, Miss Anabella Andrews."

I cringed. “Not again…”

***

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