Without hesitation, Professor Smith rose to fetch an application form, swiftly filling out Emily's basic information before making a call to the tutoring center to inquire about class schedules. Emily, using chopsticks to finish her meal, barely had a chance to voice her opinion.

With the winter tutoring arranged, the final exam loomed, proving more challenging than the monthly tests, and Emily's scores plummeted, with multiple subjects highlighted in the dreaded red ink. When Professor Smith found out, he asked, "Do we need parents for the finals?"

"No," Emily replied. "The teachers want everyone to enjoy the holiday."

Not every student had a parent as supportive as Professor Smith. His disappointment was palpable, often masked by his usual stern demeanor, but Emily feigned ignorance, packed her backpack, and joined the family driver for the tutoring sessions.

As the year's end approached, Seattle experienced its typical winter wonderland with heavy snowfall. The tutoring center allowed a five-day break for New Year celebrations. Emily found herself juggling between study sessions and a mountain of homework awaiting her each evening.

Jack returned from his travels to find the rarely filled family dining table occupied by a full house; it caught him off guard. While he had hoped his family would slowly embrace Emily, this rapid acceptance was a pleasant surprise. Seated at the table, Jack accepted a bowl of freshly-steamed rice from Aunt Martha, striving to ignore his parents’ slightly awkward expressions.

Curious to know more, Jack asked Aunt Martha about the situation. Once she filled him in, he called Emily into his room.

Jack hadn’t been back long; his fatigue was evident, but his first concern was Emily. "Do the tutoring sessions feel overwhelming? All I wish for is your happiness—not for grades to define you."

Emily shook her head. "I like the tutoring," she affirmed. She wanted to excel, to be as accomplished as Jack, even if she wasn't sure why.

"I don't want to let Uncle Jack down," she admitted.

Jack patted her head, full of pride. "If it's ever too much, you can ease up."

Emily nodded obediently.

After the New Year, Jack traveled to Africa for work. Despite Seattle's persistent snow, which had turned the world into a white expanse, as the day to book his flight approached, the weather surprisingly cleared, ending the endless snow.

The family accompanied Jack to the airport, where the hustle and bustle could not dispel the heavy air of farewell. Emily's face, buried in her scarf, was damp with tears.

Jack hugged his parents, saving the last embrace for Emily. Kneeling to her height, he gently wiped her tears, “Let’s make a deal.”

Emily sniffled, intrigued.

"When you achieve over ninety in every subject, I'll definitely come back to see you."

“Really?” Emily asked, eyes wide with hope.

"Absolutely."

Emily forced a smile despite her tears, while Jack’s mother blinked back her emotions. No one could stop Jack's departure; he was meant for bigger things that surpassed their needs.

Nights followed where Emily cried herself to sleep, writing letters to her grandmother despite Jack having taken her to visit and tend to the grave during her trip back home.

Spring soon meant school resumed, and with Jack's absence overseas, Emily was often withdrawn. Her interaction in class that was already minimal diminished further, as new challenges surfaced.

According to her finals results, Emily should not have been in her current homeroom class; thus, when classmates discovered her presence, annoyance brewed.

Every student battled ruthlessly to stay in the top-tier class, while someone like Emily, who languished near the bottom, comfortably stayed, sparking unrest.

Despite their youth, raw emotions surfaced transparently through actions: silent treatment was swiftly employed; speak up, and Emily was ignored, her deskmate Simon included in this ostracism.

More physical rejections followed: getting bumped, accidentally shoved, or having her things go missing—all coupled with snide nicknames whispered behind her back.

Emily's resilience shone, determinedly enduring these offenses with teeth clenched. Nights grew longer in study, prompting frequent visits from Aunt Martha urging earlier bedtimes.

By their second year, biology lessons on adolescence arrived. With students teeming akin to budding spring flora, friendships bloomed with shared secrets, while boys teased more crudely, girls were further isolated.

Emily retreated deeper into her studies, even straying from her seat only to use the restroom.

Professor Smith closely monitored her academic journey, noted an improvement over successive exams—a result of the tutoring paying off—Emily climbed past the pass mark, yet excellence was elusive.

He pondered, concluded that weekly tutoring was insufficient; densely packed sessions left little room for absorption. One afternoon, picking Emily up from school, Professor Smith decided a new approach—next door was Kevin, a top-grade student; what a waste if untapped.

Hence, one evening post Kevin's shower, dressed in a robe, towel-drying his hair, he found an unexpected visitor at his door.

Kevin was taken aback, gazing at the startled Emily.

Looking down over the banister at the lively chat between his father and Professor Smith, their words reached him.

Kevin's father mentioned, "I heard about this new girl with you. Didn’t catch her during the holidays. Seems sharp, can't imagine she'll struggle long. If you're set on Kevin helping, he'd be glad."

Professor Smith, concerned, answered, “I've never educated a child before, only wanting Emily to achieve.”

Kevin winced, both his elders were quite the performers.

He stepped into his room, flipping a discarded plush aside, told Emily, "Stay back."

Emily needed no encouragement to keep her distance. Not just the ominous watchdogs by the iron gate, even Kevin’s elder was noteworthy—all calamitous gazes made her want to retreat.

Her taste of the tiled vintage interiors, heavy tapestries, periodic antique decor—a home was a surreal ‘60s tribute. Upstairs, directed to Kevin’s room by housekeeping, she found an unlocked door.

Within, she froze—a chilling display of glass cabinets against three walls, each housing a palm-sized doll, lifeless eyes staring emptily; excess ones piled beside. Their bizarre, oversized heads and featureless expressions stirred a dreadful unease.

When Kevin returned, she wanted nothing more but to flee. "Close the door," he instructed, unfazed by the exhibition.

Emily, clutching her bag, managed to close it.

Kevin nonchalantly discarded his towel, taking a seat at his desk to peruse an extensive foreign novel; the room afforded one lone chair. So Emily sat on the carpet, spreading her coursework across her lap.

As Kevin effortlessly tore through pages, a casual voice broke in, "Twenty dollars per question."

"I’ve got no money," Emily blurted. Her meager allowance was already surrendered for days following Kevin to school.

As Kevin stood, the room found him under a ceiling lamp—a halo—casting an overbearing shadow; from beneath, his shaded eyes and porcelain-like elegance loomed formidable. "Can you cut me some slack?" Emily pleaded.

Kevin dismissed the idea, “No way.”

"Seriously?" she dared challenge. Other girls had bartered—why couldn’t she? "Don't I deserve a friend discount?"

Kevin’s scoff was chilling, "Space rental."

Emily exhaled sharply—what a ludicrous charge for a nightmare-inducing chamber.

Regardless, unruly protests faltered; she'd made a pricey investment, which she refused to repeat despite Professor Smith's encouragement. The break was short-lived—Kevin’s prompted arrival the next day interrupted.

Emily, grumbling, assumed a money motive. Yet as she descended, Kevin’s devil-may-care smirk prompted her to embrace the staircase.

Never had she seen someone fake sweetness with such mastery, a playful taunt hiding fervent malice: "Come study together."

No, no, no, she resisted, instinct sensing a concealed agenda.

Professor Smith mistook her resistance, pulling her to Kevin’s awaiting chivalry, reminded, “Not too late, please.”

Beaming in faux-charity, Kevin agreed—Emily’s spine shivered, as his amicability vanished upon entering familiar quarters. With frosty countenance, Kevin marched onward, passively enduring his senior berate, “Why fuss? A bit of community service won't kill you.”

Kevin’s expression—unchanged, studied resignation.

“Indeed, upstairs now,” his elder shepherded them mercilessly.

Emily trudged behind, denied even the comfort of seating; memorably, she sat evening aside—the floor artless invite. When Jack called during Kevin's latest penal impositions, Emily regaled his sins carefully over her borrowed phone.

“Is badmouthing classmates too harsh?” she asked, feeling cautious.

Jack reassured, "Kevin's nature isn't your fault."

Nodding convincingly, she acknowledged aloud, "He's unbelievably icy."

Each child’s declaration touched Jack amusingly, absorbing her litany before soothing, “I assure you, soon, he’ll behave.”

Was that possible? Emily, dubious, still clung to Jack’s oath.

Undisturbed others might find her imbalanced, that night Emily dreamt universal fears; herself a string-bound marionette atop Kevin's palm, controls firm, silent wrapped in shadow.

His manipulation complete, the haunting lifeless eyes left Emily praying for dawn, disturbed sleep rarely improved stubborn courage.