Dmitri watches each of them come forward, their expressions a wide variety of thunderclouds and childish pouting, but there is just that tiny hint of smugness left that puts him on high alert. The last one to come forward is the boy with the cold green eyes that seem almost glowing against his dark skin. Such an unusual color, he has the eyes of a predator no matter how much he tries to hide behind a wall of boredom and disinterest. He will be a dangerous opponent, probably the most dangerous, if Dmitri had to guess. Winning him over will be the key to be accepted by the others, he can feel it.

The boy stares at him, holding out his test, unlike his classmates who dropped theirs on the desk in a haphazard pile, issuing a direct challenge without words. Dmitri picks his most innocent smile to dress his face into before he takes the piece of paper, without glancing at it, and places it on top of the others.

“Thank you,” he says quietly, then dismisses the boy by turning his attention to the rest of the class who are watching the interaction raptly. “Now that we’re done with the formalities, let’s see if we can overcome the technical difficulties and learn something.”

“Duuude, it’s our first day back!” the tallest boy in the room, Prescott if Dmitri remembers correctly from the earlier altercation, complains, his arms crossed over his wide chest. “And we were already forced to do your stupid test too.”

“Thommy is right! First days are for lazing around!” the boy next to Thommy adds his two cents, his expression set in a stubborn frown. “So shut up and leave us alone.”

“Yeah! No one wants you here anyway, so just get lost!” All of them hum in agreement, but none of them seems to be brave enough to actually speak up.

Their behavior gives Dmitri a near accurate view of the power plays going on in this class. Interestingly, it’s vastly different from the other classes’ power structure. They might have been volatile in a passive-aggressive way, trying to issue their dominance, but they mostly acted as a unit of almost equals. His own kids act like a gang of feral dogs, huddling together and heeding to the alphas’ direction but always on the lookout to take that power if the tiniest chance arises.

They are utterly fascinating, and Dmitri cannot wait to delve deeper into their little games, watch their inner fights, and see who will come out on top. At the same time, he has to wonder why these groups of boys act so differently, shredding the uptight proprietary and hostile politeness that seems to be the norm in the entire school. Only time will tell, of course, but Dmitri is determined to get to the bottom of this mystery. And if he gets something into his head, he doesn’t rest until he gets what he wants.

With that in mind, he claps his hands and then whistles sharply when the buzzing of the class doesn’t subside immediately. “Whatever you think, I’m here for you and not against you,” he starts, his voice calm and serious as he looks around in the room, meeting each student’s gaze with his own. “I don’t expect instant trust or respect, but I expect you to do your best for yourselves and your future.”

“What future? Who needs Literature in the real world?” the boy next to Thommy Prescott scoffs and then high fives the short boy sitting on his other side. “We all have our futures set out for us. School is useless.”

“I see. Then I guess, I just have to pray that your futures are also set up with babysitters with actual brains who will do your work for you while you blunder around, being useless. Like school,” Dmitri retorts and he can hear the edge in his tone. “After all, it’s not like literally millions of children would gladly switch places with you.”

“Tough luck, we got the perks and no work and they have nothing but pathetic dreams of grandeur,” the boy snaps back, but there is a hint of bitterness lacing his words that curbs the comeback on Dmitri’s tongue.

“That’s enough, Mark.” The resonating bass of a boy sitting on the right edge of the back row pulses through the room.

“Whatever, Ryley, you’re just your daddy’s lapdog anyway,” Mark snarls, showing his chair back and grabbing his bag.

“Mark!” Thommy Prescott snaps, his expression outraged.

“Oh shut up, Prescott! Try and grow a personality before you—”

“Enough, Mark,” the green-eyed boy says, quiet and frosty.

Mark scowls but shuts up. Instead, he storms to the door, yanking it open but breaks the effectiveness of the overly dramatic scene by looking at Dmitri over his shoulder. “Just a little advice, teach. Give up your pitiful dreams of being our hero. You’re nothing but a disposable body that will be replaced and forgotten by the end of the year.”

“That’s nice,” Dmitri replies with a little nod. “But are you going or staying? Because I have a class to teach and you’re disrupting it.”

“Get bent, you stupid bitch!” The door slams shut behind him and the tension could be cut in the room.

“Anyone else?” Dmitri asks, leaning back against the edge of his desk. When no one moves to leave, he nods and picks up his tablet and checks the attendance list. “Someone please notify Mr. Goodman that I still expect him to turn his assignment in on time.”

“So what? You’re not marking him as absent?!” Thommy Prescott exclaims almost falling out of his chair.

“Why wouldn’t he? All teachers do.”

“And what would that prove? That one of my students got into a fit and stormed out of my class?” Dmitri pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes for a second. “Look,” he starts when he opens them once again, “you don’t come to my class? Your decision. But if you’re absent during tests, be that a pop-quiz or a Q&A session, without notice, you will automatically get a zero. And tests make up 45% of your grade in my class.”

“45%?!!”

“Considering I don’t take attendance, other things will count more. That’s fair, don’t you think?” No one replies, probably too shocked to be able to form coherent words. “Great! Now that’s out of the way, I’ll let you go early. You can find everything in the syllabus and I trust you’re mature enough to read it and absorb it on your own. Any questions you have, send an email or come and see me during my office hours. You can go now.”

He doesn’t expect anyone to stay behind from the way his students scramble to get out of the room, so he flinches when a dark hand lands on the top of his desk a mere inches from where he’s organizing the pile of tests. Taking a deep breath, Dmitri plasters a welcoming smile on his face and looks up into gleaming, cold green eyes.

“Can I help you?” he asks, unassuming.

“Trying to butter us up won’t work. So you can stop with the nice act, we’ve seen it all and won’t fall for it.” The boy has a slight raspy quality to his voice and his words are downright scathing. His head is held high, pushing every inch of advantage he has over Dmitri into looming over him.

“And what if I’m just a nice guy?” Dmitri asks, showing teeth and meeting the brat’s glare directly.

“Pathetic,” he says with a sneer. “You really should just get lost already.”

“You’ll have to work much harder if you want to achieve that,” Dmitri snipes back with a careless grin. “But thank you for your input. See you tomorrow.”

He gathers his things and leaves the room, not looking back at the boy to see what he is doing. He hates to admit it but the deep-set bitterness he could see in the boy’s eyes unsettles him. He doesn’t know what happened that made the boy despise teachers so much, but he vows to change his mind eventually.