She took her keys from the right pocket of her blazer and unlocked the door. She pushed it open and turned on the lights. Again, like in the hallway, the fluorescent lights eliminated any shadows.

The physics classroom was a sort of laboratory. Like all the other rooms in the school, and like the school in general, it was grand. In the back of the classroom was a row of large metal sinks. Chairs were placed along long tables that stretched along the classroom. At each table, in front of each seat, was another sink, a much smaller one. Oddly enough, though Matt could recall using them numerous times, each time he looked at them, he noted that there were no water marks on the stainless steel. The desks were made of a black plastic that was resistant to both acids and bases. In the corner furthest for the door was a safety shower, in case one of the students got chemicals on themselves, as this classroom was also often used for chemistry . At the front of the classroom was a blackboard. Matt usually didn’t like black boards, since they usually had traces of chalk all over them, but the black boards in this school had none. They were perfectly clean. The walls of the classroom were the same color as the hallway, grey-white, and were covered with posters of the periodic table and other similar posters, that all looked as though they were brand new. The wall on the far side of the classroom was made of windows that looked out at the luxurious park in the center of the school.

Matt walked around the desks, to the back of the room and sat down in his assigned seat, in the farthest corner from the door, next to the windows. Though most students would be overjoyed about sitting in this spot, Matt was indifferent. He saw the windows as a distraction and the distance from the front of the class a hindrance, though none of this would be enough to distract him from his studies. However, from where he sat, he could see the entire classroom. He could watch as his classmates filed into the class one by one, each sitting themselves down at a particular seat.

Ms. Evans sat at the front of the classroom. Her desk, like all the other tables

in the classroom, was jet black. She walked around it and took a seat in her chair, silver and metallic, identical to the one Matt was sitting on. She reached down into the grey messenger bag she had been carrying over her shoulder and pulled out a white folder filled, presumably, with the tests from the day before.

She laid the folder on her desk carefully, making sure it lined up perfectly with the corner of the table. She then took out a pencil case and placed it diagonally across her folder. She had always been a very organized person. Ms. Evans was also one of the sharpest knives in the drawer. Nothing ever got past her. Analyzing every word in a conversation, assessing every possible meaning. Observing every detail in a room, from the furniture, to the floor, to the walls and even the little water stain barely noticeable on the ceiling. Her hawk like eyes missed nothing. Despite her apparent fastidiousness, Matt found her very calm and collected. She spoke softly but firmly, and never raised her voice. Not that she needed to, the students at this school were respectful and quiet. They were there to learn. And Ms. Evans was there to teach.

Matt sat still in his chair and stared at the clock on the wall. He watched as the hands of the clock progressed on their way back to the twelve. One minute passed. Matt look at the doorway as a student walked in, followed by two others. The third had long, dark ash brown hair that he kept in a low ponytail. He scanned the classroom with his sharp, almond shaped, black eyes. His gaze stopped on Matt and he walked over to the seat next to him slowly letting his black bag slip from his shoulder. He adjusted his black dress shirt and sat down in the seat.