Chapter 35
“No way.”
Ronald Lee set the file back down, his tone cold and final.
He was in his forties, with a shiny bald head that had earned him the nickname “Bald Lee” around Vanguard High. He’d taught here for years and had a reputation for churning out star students. Even the principal had to give him some respect.
“Class A isn’t a dumping ground. We don’t take just anyone,” Ronald said, shooting Charlotte a look full of disdain.
He thought she was just another nobody from a third-rate school. Completely unimpressive. What kind of strings did she pull to get the principal to let her into Vanguard?
“Ronald, this student really has potential the principal tried to persuade him.
“Class A doesn’t need more good students. We’re full of them,” Bald Lee interrupted, not bothering to hide his contempt. A kid from the countryside-how special could she really be?
“If you insist on putting her in Class A, you’ll have to find a new homeroom teacher.”
With that, Ronald walked out, not looking back.
The principal’s face went pale with frustration, but there was nothing he could do. Switching homeroom teachers now would only stir up trouble with the students and their parents. It’d be a mess.
“Charlotte, honestly, every class at our school is great. They’re all full of talented students. Maybe you could consider another class?” the principal asked, trying to sound cheerful.
Charlotte lifted her lashes, her voice quiet. “Class C is fine.”
“Great, great. Let me call someone to take you there,” the principal said, reaching for the phone.
“I can find it,” Charlotte replied.
She’d already seen it when she came in.
She gave a little bow and slipped out the door.
As soon as she left, the principal picked up the phone to call Mr. Lane.
“Eric, the student you recommended just checked in today.”
“Really?” Mr. Lane’s voice shot up with excitement. “She grew up in the countryside, you know. She’s gentle, a bit naïve, and tends to get pushed around. Please look after her.”
“She’s in good hands, don’t worry.”
“By the way, how’s your latest research going?”
“Almost done, almost done.”
Mr. Lane pushed his glasses up his nose, hung up, and immediately texted Charlotte.
Mr. Lane: [Sweetheart, do you have time to come by? Grandpa’s stuck on his research again. Come help me out, okay?]
Charlotte: [No.]
Mr. Lane: [Sweetheart, you haven’t visited in forever. I’m old, who
how
ow many days I have left? What if I drop dead before see you again?
Charlotte:
Mr. Lane: [So you don’t love Grandpa anymore, after all I’ve done for you. don’t care, I’m not listening you have
to come see me
If you don
don’tà if you
don’t, I’ll
Charlotte: I’ll come tonight.]
Mr. Lane: [I’ll be waiting at home. Hehe.]
Charlotte rubbed her temples, fighting the urge to reach through the screen and
throttle her overly dramatic grandpa.
She turned off her phone and tossed it in her bag.
Just as she started down the hallway, she heard quiet sobbing from a patch of bushes nearby.
Charlotte looked over.
A small girl sat huddled on the
ground, hair tangled and wet, her school uniform streaked with dirt,
schooluniform
She looked like he se
been through
been
hell.
Looking at her, Charlotte got this weird, distant feeling-like she was looking at a younger version of herself.
Her gaze softened, and she walked over automatically.
“Do you need some help?”
The girl jerked up, startled.
Her tiny face was scribbled over with red and green pen, and fat tears kept rolling down her cheeks.
She looked shocked that anyone would come near her. Her wide, watery eyes locked onto Charlotte.
“Are you hurt?” Charlotte asked, frowning as she crouched down and gently reached out.
“I… I The girl scooted away, stammering. “I’m dirty. I’ll… I’ll get your clothes dirty.”