“Ely,” her brother called.

Mariely turned to Nathan, immediately sensing the seriousness in his tone.

“Go on,” he said gently. “Thanks for bringing my ID.”

“Yes, brother,” she replied, deliberately avoiding the man standing beside him.

She turned and headed back toward the school building. The bell was about to ring, and she didn’t want to be late. Just as she was about to disappear inside, Nathan called out again.

“El, I’ll pick you up this afternoon.”

She nodded with a small smile. “Okay.”

Walking away, her thoughts spun. Nathan had seemed unusually serious earlier.

I hope I didn’t bother him, she thought as she quickened her steps.

Still, one question lingered.

How did my brother know the man who entered the office yesterday?

Focus, El, she scolded herself. You’ve got a classroom full of mischievous kids waiting.

She reached the faculty room and grabbed her teaching materials.

“Faith, have you already established any rules?” Veron asked as they walked toward their classrooms.

“Yes,” Mariely replied with a nervous smile, scratching her head. “I came up with something. I just hope it works.”

“I’m sure it will,” Veron said encouragingly.

“Thank you,” Mariely said before stepping inside her classroom.

She wasn’t wearing her uniform yet—the principal had allowed new teachers a two-week grace period.

Just like the day before, the room was noisy. At least no one was throwing punches this time.

Her eyes landed on a group of students playing cards—gambling openly.

Mariely sighed but let it slide—for now.

No one noticed her arrival. Papers littered the floor, chairs were out of place, and the room felt suffocatingly chaotic.

She inhaled deeply.

What she hated most was disorder—especially in a classroom. Chaos was the enemy of learning.

She raised her hand and banged on the blackboard.

That got their attention.

Silence fell as all eyes turned to her.

She crossed her arms. “Good morning.”

“What’s so good about the morning?” someone muttered mockingly.

Mariely smiled thinly and walked toward the voice.

“What’s your name?” she asked calmly.

“I don’t have a name,” the student smirked.

“Alright,” she nodded. “Then I’ll call you No Name.”

A few students snickered.

“When I ask you something,” she said firmly, “I expect a proper answer.”

She turned to the board and taped up a sheet of paper.

“Rule Number One,” she announced. “Everyone must show respect—not just to me, but to each other and to everyone in this school.”

“Tsk. We don’t follow rules here,” No Name scoffed.

“No Name, was it?” she replied calmly, ignoring the remark.

She continued posting the rules.

“My name’s not No Name,” he muttered. “It’s Richmond.”

“Oh?” She glanced at him with a smile. “I thought you didn’t have one.”

Laughter rippled through the room.

“Rule Number Two,” she went on. “When I’m speaking, no one interrupts. If you have something to say, raise your hand.”

“Eh, what if we don’t want to?” another student challenged. He wore a cap, black earrings, and a wrinkled uniform.

Mariely walked toward him.

“I can do something,” she said gently. “Fix your uniform. Remove the hat and earrings—or do you want me to do it for you?”

The student hesitated, then complied.

“Rule Number Three: No playing cards or gambling of any kind—inside or outside the classroom.”

She collected the cards without resistance.

“Rule Number Four: No gadgets during class.”

She looked directly at a boy holding his phone. “Put it away, son. You might not get it back.”

The phone disappeared instantly.

“Rule Number Five: No fighting—anywhere on school grounds.”

“Rule Number Six: Keep the classroom clean. This is your space.”

“Rule Number Seven: No unnecessary noise. Other classes deserve peace too.”

She paused.

“And finally—Rule Number Eight,” she said, smiling. “Be happy.”

The class grew quiet.

“Any questions?” she asked.

“Your rules are weird,” someone muttered.

She sighed lightly.

“Oh—and one last thing.” She raised a small notebook. “Break any rule, and we’ll deal with it every Friday. I keep records in my magical notebook.”

A few students exchanged nervous looks.

“No objections?” she said calmly. “Then let’s begin.”

The room remained silent.

Mariely knew rules alone wouldn’t change them. She had to be firm—but more than that, she had to understand them.

Don’t give up, she reminded herself.

That afternoon, Nathan picked her up.

“Brother,” she said, fastening her seatbelt. “Do you know that guy from earlier?”

Nathan chuckled. “Seriously, El? You forget people that easily?”

“Huh?” she blinked.

“He’s the one you told me about before,” Nathan said, trying not to laugh. “The guy with the bad attitude.”

Her memory clicked.

“Oh! That high school classmate of yours—the one who made me cry and called me a crybaby,” she said. “What was his name again?”

“You really don’t remember?” Nathan teased. “He’s Mrs. Becca Jordan Montero’s son.”

She stared at him. “Ma’am Becca’s son?”

Nathan nodded.

“And his name?” he asked.

Mariely shook her head. It just wouldn’t come.

“Well,” Nathan said, suddenly serious, eyes on the road, “it’s better if you don’t remember.”

She glanced at him but didn’t ask why.

She knew her brother had never been close to that former classmate anyway.

Mariely turned her gaze to the window, watching the line of cars stretch endlessly ahead.