The school corridors were deserted as I ran through them. The last bell had rung almost twenty minutes ago, marking the start of first period, and I was late again. At least this time it wasn't my fault because there had been a power outage at home in the middle of the night which is why my alarm clock hadn't gone off. I doubted whether my biology teacher, Mrs. Coleman, would believe me. That woman couldn't stand me.

I sprinted up the final flight of stairs to the second floor and arrived at the science wing, with its green-blue-yellow painted walls and the posters for the Science Fair in the last week before summer break hanging everywhere. My legs carried me down the familiar path to the classroom at the end of the hall and stopped in front of the wooden door bearing a white sign that read Biology Room 2. I knocked and waited for Mrs. Coleman's "Yes, please?" before I entered.

When she saw me, her fake smile died and she rolled her eyes. "Ms. Hofferson, honoring us with your presence?" She was now standing with crossed arms in front of the blackboard on which she had been drawing a neuron. She loved to start new topics before the end of the school year.

I set my backpack down on my desk, which luckily stood at the very back of the room near the door. That way the others wouldn't turn around to look at me. "Yes, I'm sorry, we had a power outage a-"

"Oh!" she interrupted theatrically. "Of course, the well-known power outage! Because none of you use your phones as alarm clocks nowadays."

How badly I wanted to slap her for that stupid remark. Instead, I pulled my pencil case from my backpack. "I don't use my phone for that. You're welcome to call my father, he was late for work because of it."

She made a dismissive gesture. "That won't be necessary. You know the rule, Ms. Hofferson, that's an F."

I stared at her in disbelief. "What? You said if we miss more than half an hour, it's an F. I'm only about twenty minutes late."

She gave me a smug grin. "You probably didn't notice the change of the rule due to how often you're late. For some time now, it has been said that anyone who is late in general gets an F."

"That's a stupid rule," I said and wanted to punch her for that amused tone. She acted like I missed the start of class every week, which wasn't true. I just had bad luck today.

Mrs. Coleman sighed in annoyance. "Consider it stupid, I don't care. I can't keep giving you special treatment just because your mother died. Life goes on, deal with it. For today it's an F."

She might as well have slapped me in the face, it wouldn't have made a difference.

She had just revealed my most carefully kept secret to the entire class like she was announcing that it would be sunny today. Unimportant, emotionless, with no regard for the damage it could do.

I could practically hear my classmates perk up, saw some of them now actually turn to look at me with raised eyebrows. They were expecting a comeback, a biting remark like the ones I used to throw out a few months ago, but I couldn't do anything. It was as if her words had struck me with a tranquilizer dart that paralyzed my body but not my mind. My eyes stayed locked on Mrs. Coleman, who was now glancing at her notes to explain the next part of the neuron.

"Where was I?" she said, not even noticing that I was still standing next to my desk and no one was fully listening to her anymore. "Right, the synapses. So, you'll find them here ..."

Her voice faded as a high-pitched ringing filled my ears. My brain couldn't comprehend how she could be so cold. Sure, it wasn't her mother and I wasn't her favorite student, but everyone had at least a little empathy. She couldn't ... she had to know ...

My gaze shifted from her to my backpack, which still lay open on my desk. If I stayed, the stares from the others would pierce me so badly I'd turn into Swiss cheese. Some would ask questions after class, what happened, how it was, when it was. Some would express fake sympathy or tell me about their own grief stories, about their dead relatives. I couldn't handle that. I didn't want their fake tongues anywhere near me.

My hand grabbed my pencil case, the only thing I had taken out so far, shoved it back into my backpack, and zipped it shut. Without hesitation, I slung it over my shoulder and left the classroom. I vaguely heard Mrs. Coleman calling after me, but I couldn't make out the exact words through the persistent ringing in my ears. Honestly, I didn't care whether she was angry or annoyed, she could go to hell.

My legs carried me down to the ground floor, past the trophy wall and the entrance to the cafeteria, heading straight to the principal's office. I knocked and didn't have to wait long for his "Come in."

Mr. North was a middle-aged man whose hair pigments had long said goodbye since it was snow white. Because of his full beard and fitting last name, people often called him Santa Claus behind his back and suggested every Christmas season that he dress up and grant our wishes. So far, he never had, at least not at school.

Now he sat at his desk in a navy-blue suit and raised an eyebrow questioningly when I sat down in one of the brown armchairs in front of him. "Ms. Hofferson, first period isn't even over yet. What happened?"

I swallowed the lump in my throat. He'd seen me cry enough times over the past two years. "Mrs. Coleman."

"Ah," he said, leaning back in his chair. "What did she do this time?"

My fingers automatically fiddled with the hem of my shirt. "She just ... she stood there and ... I can't believe she said that," I mumbled.

"Astrid," Mr. North said calmly. "Breathe, deep in and out. Just like we've done before. Now start from the beginning."

His breathing exercises always worked like magic on me, though I believe it was more due to his peaceful, calm nature than the technique itself. After the third exhale, I found the words. "Mrs. Coleman told the whole class about my mother's death."

He leaned forward again. "In detail or how?"

"No," I said, shaking my head. "We had a power outage at home, so I was late and she wanted to give me an F for it. We argued about it and then she said she couldn't keep giving me special treatment just because of her death."

I could clearly see him restraining an eye roll. Mr. North had been keeping an eye on Mrs. Coleman for a while now, since she had a habit of sending the students she hated to him for the slightest reason and he kept hearing stories about her that a teacher really shouldn't be associated with. This one was a prime example.

He sighed. "I'm really sorry she said that in front of everyone. She actually knows, or at least should know, that your situation was communicated confidentially. I'll definitely have a word with her right away and-"

A knock on the door interrupted him. He cleared his throat and said, "Come in." Who walked in next was someone I never would've expected.

Hiccup Haddock, the model student of our year, straight-A student, and every teacher's favorite.

"Mr. Haddock," said Mr. North, just as surprised as I was. "What can I do for you?"

He closed the door and sat next to me in the other chair. "Mrs. Coleman sent me. I'm supposed to get my punishment."

I furrowed my brows. A punishment? What could he have possibly done in the last ten minutes?

Mr. North looked just as confused. "Punishment for what?"

"It's possible," Hiccup began slowly, "that I called her a cold-hearted bitch."

"You did what?" I said, turning to him. He just grinned sideways at me.

"Mr. Haddock, if you would care to explain," said Mr. North, his mouth twitching.

Hiccup shrugged. "I didn't think it was fair that she shared something so personal without consent. It was obvious she did it to humiliate, I couldn't keep my mouth shut."

"So you just called her a cold-hearted bitch?" I said.

He looked at me with his green eyes. "I may have called her a few other things too, but that's the one that got me sent here."

I couldn't believe it. The absolute model student had insulted our biology teacher in my defense, and we hadn't even exchanged a single word in the past three years.

"I've worked at this school for almost fifteen years," Mr. North said. "Been principal for nearly five, and only since Mrs. Coleman has been teaching here, I have so many students sent to my office like I'm some kind of evil Santa. Not once has anyone come here for calling her a cold-hearted bitch."

At first, I thought he was angry and Hiccup did too, apparently, because his grin disappeared from his face. But then Mr. North burst out laughing so hard he had to hold his belly. I was too stunned to laugh myself, so I just glanced awkwardly at Hiccup. He didn't seem to know what to make of it either.

After a minute, Mr. North's laughter died down and he wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. "That's honestly the best thing I've heard in ages. Oh, Mr. Haddock, you're not getting a punishment for that, just don't tell anyone. And don't insult teachers again." His eyes turned to me. "I'll talk to her and make it clear that I don't tolerate that kind of behavior at this school. We're here to educate, not to humiliate. Unfortunately, I can't erase what your classmates heard."

"There would've been questions at graduation anyway," I said, immediately feeling worse at the thought that my mother wouldn't be there. That she'd never be anywhere again.

"If you graduate next year," Mr. North replied. He didn't need to say more, I knew what he meant. Still, he did. "If your grades don't improve, you'll have to repeat the year. You've known that for a while now, Ms. Hofferson."

"Yeah," I said slowly, fiddling with my fingers. "I know. It's just ... It's not so easy to catch up and keep up with the new material."

He nodded. "I understand, but I could barely pass you into twelfth grade without your teachers complaining. This is your last chance to graduate on time."

"I know," I murmured, still not looking up.

"Mr. Haddock!" Mr. North then suddenly said. Oh no, I had completely forgotten he was still here. Great, now he didn't just know about my mom, he also knew of my academic struggles. Could this day start any better?

"Yes?" Hiccup replied, confused.

"You're the top student in your year," Mr. North said in a tone that left no room for argument.

"I'm not sure-" he began, but couldn't finish because Mr. North interrupted again.

"How about you tutor Ms. Hofferson?"

Excuse me, what?

I finally looked up at him. He had his forearms resting on the desk, hands clasped, and a wide smile on his face as if he'd just invented something Nobel-worthy. He looked at us expectantly.

"Uh," Hiccup stammered. His confused gaze flicked between Mr. North and me. "I don't know if that's such a good idea ..."

"Why not?" asked Mr. North, raising his eyebrows. "You're getting straight A's in every subject, you both chose the same foreign language, and if I'm not mistaken, you share most of your classes. Ms. Hofferson won't make it through twelfth grade without help - no offense."

"That may be true, but-" Hiccup tried again, yet Mr. North seemed too set on the idea to be deterred.

"No buts!" he said, raising a finger. "You're going to tutor Ms. Hofferson to make sure she finishes her final year successfully. We always preach teamwork at sports events, students helping students counts too. I want you to meet at least twice a week and report back to me every Friday at the beginning of lunch."

"Don't I get a say in this?" I finally found my voice since his brainstorm had left me speechless.

"In this case, no," he said. "You know full well that you need this tutoring."

"I could also-"

"No, you cannot," he said in a tone that left no room for argument. "Mr. Haddock is reliable and trustworthy. I know he'll follow through with this. He'll also let me know if you're not putting in the effort."

I was too stunned to protest. Hiccup seemed to have accepted defeat already, as he said nothing either.

"Alright then, you two, tutoring twice a week," Mr. North said as a final word. "Remember, Ms. Hofferson, last chance. I really want to hand you that diploma next year."

I knew he meant well and wanted to help, but did it really have to be the model student Haddock? A boy I'd never spoken to before. The boyfriend of the possessive cheerleading captain. Why did life have to be this cruel?

"That'll be all. You can head back to class," Mr. North said with a smile, as if he hadn't just turned my whole life upside down.