Safe Hands

30. Denied

Grayson desperately tried to find a comfortable posture, dreading the lesson as Mr. Simon stood at the front with a smirk, finishing up a lecture on geometry. Every time he tried to listen, he felt a weight on his chest, exhaling or shifting in his seat each time. However, the teacher's eyes occasionally flicked toward him, a hidden mischief lingering in his gaze.

"Alright, class," Mr. Simon announced, a smile tugging at his lips. "We're going to have a short test on today's lesson."

Grayson jumped in his seat, realizing he hadn't been paying attention. A collective groan echoed through the room. Then he rolled his eyes, already feeling the weight of Mr. Simon's scrutiny. He knew this was coming.

"You have twenty minutes. Begin," Mr. Simon said, handing out the papers.

Grayson took a deep breath and focused on his test—another bunch of gigantic shapes. Alex had tried to go over them, and he had managed to grasp the concepts. He worked carefully, scribbling down answers and double-checking his work. As he finished, he noticed some papers being passed around the room. Mr. Simon's hawk-like gaze followed the movement, but his eyes returned to Grayson, full of doubt.

Time was up, and the students handed in their tests. Mr. Simon collected them with a smirk, clearly plotting something. As the students returned to their seats, he began examining the work, starting with Grayson's.

"Grayson Smith," he called, adjusting his glasses, a malicious glint in his eye.

The room fell silent as curious gazes settled on Grayson, making him even more uncomfortable in his seat. Mr. Simon held up Grayson's test, his expression one of feigned concern.

"Mr. Smith, I've noticed something troubling. You seem to perform well on tests but struggle in class. Can you explain that?" His voice echoed in the classroom. Russell smirked.

Grayson clenched his fists, feeling his frustration rise as whispers spread like wildfire.

"I guess I studied. Just because I don't answer every question in class doesn't mean I don't understand the material," he retorted, low-key. Russell glanced quickly at Mr. Simon, hoping for some severe action.

Mr. Simon shook his head. "Let's see if that's true. Come to the board and solve these questions. Explain each step to your peers and be ready to answer their questions."

Grayson felt a surge of anger but stepped up to the board. "Fine. But if I do this correctly, you have to give me the grades I deserve for all my work," he declared, his voice filling the room.

The class gasped at his boldness. Mr. Simon hesitated before a smile crossed his face. "Deal. But if you fail, I'll inform the principal about your cheating."

Grayson grabbed a marker and started working on the first problem. He made sure to speak audibly and explain each step simply, using analogies like dogs, pens, and footballs to clarify the formulas and theories, breaking down the concepts clearly enough for everyone to understand. The other students watched in awe, some murmuring comments like, "Ah, now I get it!"

Russell's face displayed a mix of jealousy and surprise, while Milo, seated beside him, stared with wide eyes. Grayson felt the weight of their gazes but pushed on, solving each question with increasing confidence and a clear explanation.

When he finished, he turned to Mr. Simon, who was visibly shocked but trying to hide it.

"There. Done," Grayson said, his voice steady.

Mr. Simon's face twisted in anger. "You're not as clever as you think, Grayson. This doesn't change anything," he snapped, glaring at the finished work.

Grayson couldn't hold back any longer. "I did what you asked. I'm expecting my grades!"

Mr. Simon sneered. "You think you're so smart? You're just a troublemaker, and I don't know how the hell you're doing this!" he exclaimed.

Grayson couldn't contain his anger. "Yeah, right! screw the grades, Mr. Simon! You're just a bitter old man who can't stand seeing someone smarter!"

The room fell silent, except for a few hisses. Mr. Simon's face turned red with fury. "Get out! Go to the vice principal's office, now!"

Grayson slammed his books into his bag and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. As he walked down the hallway, he felt a mix of triumph and anger. He had proven himself, but it had come at a cost.

When he reached the vice principal's office, he was met with a stern glare. Mr. Patterson, the vice principal, was known for his strictness.

"Grayson, I received a note from Mr. Simon about your misconduct," Mr. Patterson said, not giving Grayson a chance to explain. "This is unacceptable. You have a history of troublemaking, and this school has no tolerance for it. You will serve detention for the rest of the week, and your guardian must sign and acknowledge receipt."

Grayson felt his heart sink. "But—"

"No 'buts,'" Mr. Patterson interrupted. "You're lucky I'm not taking this to the principal, you might get expelled, which is what you deserve. Now leave my office." He handed Grayson a red slip.

Defeated, Grayson snatched the slip and walked off, his anger simmering just below the surface. He was mad at everything. Why must everybody judge him like this? He wasn't given the chance to speak, thanks to his past academic records. This was one of the reasons he didn't want to go back to school—the system was so biased. Everybody could pretty much mess anyone up, and the teachers were included.

When school finally ended, Alex was waiting to pick them up. Grayson climbed into the car, his face set in a scowl.

"How was the day?" Alex asked, sensing something was wrong.

Grayson didn't respond, staring out the window as the cityscape blurred by.

"Awesome!" Julian added. "We had art class and were asked to draw pictures. Mine was the most artistic!"

"That's great. Maybe I could have a look once we get home. We could have a great artist under our roof," Alex joked, causing Julian to giggle.

"Yeah," Russell chimed in. "I outperformed the best guy on the team today with a double dart score."

Alex grinned. "That's a good reflex you have there. You're really doing well; you should keep it up!" Russell beamed and nodded.

Alex returned his gaze to Grayson. "You haven't said anything, Gray," he remarked. Grayson shrugged in return, his scowl still evident. Alex didn't press further, giving him the space he needed.

When they got home, Grayson went straight to his room, locking the door behind him. He threw his bag on the floor and collapsed onto his bed, the events of the day playing over and over in his mind. A mix of frustration and anger rested on his chest. He clenched his fists as he plotted revenge against Mr. Simon.

A/N

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