Ms. Vale closed the classroom door with a soft click and leaned against her desk, arms folded, her expression equal parts cool and dangerous. “Tom,” she said, her voice smooth but sharp, “you’ve spent the entire class treating my lesson like a comedy show.”

Tom, still grinning but suddenly aware he was in trouble, shoved his hands into his pockets. “I was just keeping things interesting.”

Ms. Vale arched one perfect brow over the rim of her glasses. “Interesting is not the same as disruptive.”

She was impossible to ignore: immaculate red lipstick, tailored blouse, pencil skirt, and the kind of calm confidence that made even the loudest people straighten up. Tom had expected anger. Instead, he got that measured, almost amused stare that made him feel more exposed than any lecture ever could.

“You’re staying after class,” she said. “Not because I enjoy wasting my time, but because I expect better from you.”

Tom tried for another joke, but it died halfway out of his mouth when she held up a hand.

“Sit,” she said.

He did.