Chapter 3: The New Girl

SOUTHERN ISLA, VISAYAS

"Alright, everyone, settle down," Teacher Greg said, addressing his new advisory class. "Welcome back, seniors. I'm Gregor Lopez, but you can call me Teacher Greg."

The students watched him, some with curiosity, others with admiration. Even in his thirties, his charisma and clean-cut look were hard to miss, a fact the whispers in the room made apparent.

After a glance at the attendance sheet, he began calling names.

"Quinto, Charlotte."

"That's me," she replied, standing and flipping her hair. She winked at him, earning a stern look in return.

"Alright, for our first—"

A knock at the door cut him off. He turned to see a well-dressed woman entering, followed by a tall girl with a blonde pixie cut.

"Good morning," the woman said. "I'm Mrs. Rivera, and this is my daughter. I believe she's in your advisory class."

"So, you're the new student," Teacher Greg said, gesturing for them to come in. "The school told me you'd be joining us."

Mrs. Rivera gave her daughter a quick hug. "Good luck, sweetheart. I'll leave you to it," she said, turning to Teacher Greg. "What's your name again?"

"Teacher Greg."

"Nice to meet you, sir."

"Likewise, ma'am. I'll make sure your daughter is comfortable in her new school."

"I'm sure you will," Mrs. Rivera replied with a smile. He shook her hand before she left.

The new girl stood awkwardly by the door as whispers spread. Greg cleared his throat. "Come in," he said, motioning her to the front. She remained quiet as she walked ahead of him. "Please introduce yourself to the class."

The new girl smiled brightly, showing off her thin lips and straight, white teeth. "Hey, everyone! I'm Steffy Rivera from Manila. I'm half Filipino, half Spanish. Nice to meet y'all."

The boys leaned in, obviously captivated by her allure, while some girls—particularly Charlotte Quinto—looked unimpressed.

"Half Spanish!" one of the boys murmured. "I thought she was Korean."

A boy in the back raised his hand shyly. "Uh, my name's Brandon," he said, blushing. "You're very pretty."

The class erupted into laughter. Steffy only smiled. "Thanks."

"Why'd you transfer here?" Brandon asked.

"My parents' work brought us here, and I guess they didn't want me staying in Manila alone."

"So, what do your parents do?" another student asked.

Before Steffy could answer, Charlotte cut her off. "Are you even smart enough to be here?"

The room fell silent. Teacher Greg tensed—he already knew Charlotte's reputation as a bully.

"This is a Special Science Class," Charlotte added smugly. "You need to pass an exam to get in."

Steffy's smile faltered, but she stayed calm. "I didn't need to take the exam," she said evenly.

Charlotte scoffed. "Oh, really? So, you think you indeed belong here?"

"The principal himself placed me here," Steffy replied. "But if you want proof, I can show you my report card."

The class cheered, amused at her comeback.

"You think you're smarter than us?" Charlotte snapped, her face turning bright crimson.

"It's your word against mine," Steffy shot back. "But, like it or not, we're going to be classmates."

"You're such a bitch," Charlotte hissed. "How dare you—"

"Alright, that's enough," Teacher Greg cut in. "Charlotte, sit down now. Steffy, take a seat..."

He paused, noticing the lack of available chairs. Two boys in the back leaped up to grab an extra chair, tripping over each other in the process. Steffy gave them a grateful smile, making them blush even harder. Meanwhile, Charlotte sank into her seat, glaring daggers.

Teacher Greg could only sigh, already sensing this class would be eventful now that these two girls were placed together in his section.

***

As Steffy stepped out of the school gate, dark clouds loomed overhead. "Great, it's going to rain," she muttered, hands stuffed in her pockets, her leather bag hanging loosely by her side.

Her phone buzzed. Relief flickered when she saw the caller ID.

"Hola (Hello), Papa. Yeah, I'm here. I've already met the target. I did some digging. Would you believe he's one of the school's top employees? I'm still working on his schedule so I can—"

But he cut her off.

Steffy sighed, the familiar sting of disappointment settling in as she listened to her father's endless instructions.

"Alright, I'll update you in a few weeks," she said, ending the call.

Pushing her sour mood aside, she reminded herself of the mission: get close to the target, complete the job, and get out of this hellhole.

Just then, the first raindrops splattered against her skin. "Fucking hell?" she hissed under her breath.

"Language, Miss Rivera."

She spun around to see Teacher Greg approaching with a black umbrella. Her heart skipped a beat—'Damn it, not now!'

"What are you doing here, sir?" she asked flatly.

"It's raining, and you're without an umbrella," he said, stepping beside her.

"I didn't expect it to rain today," she replied.

"Neither did I, but I still came prepared," he said with a grin.

Steffy resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "I'm fine."

"Humor me," he said. "I'll walk you to the waiting shed while you wait for your...?"

"My dad," she answered curtly.

"Good."

They walked in silence as the rain picked up. She became uncomfortably aware of the hand he rested on her shoulder.

"How long were you behind me, Teacher Greg? Did you overhear my call?"

He gave her a sideways glance. "No. Why? Worried I heard something about a boyfriend?"

Steffy flushed. "I don't have a boyfriend. Boys are stupid."

Teacher Greg chuckled. "Just teasing, Miss Rivera."

A few moments of silence passed between them.

"I heard your parents are engineers," he continued. "They're working on that new mall in the next town, right?"

"Indeed, you are a teacher. You sure ask many questions," she said, her tone sharp.

"It's normal to want to get to know my students."

"Sometimes it's best not to get too close," she muttered. "Push the wrong button, and I might stab you in the back."

Teacher Greg laughed. "That's quite an intense way to talk to your teacher."

"Just teasing, sir," she grinned, "no one's stabbing anyone."

When they reached the waiting shed, he handed her a handkerchief to dry her arms. "Thanks," she said begrudgingly.

"Why do I get the feeling you don't like me?"

"W-what?" Steffy stammered, caught off guard by his question.

"You're different outside class. In there, you're smart and respectful. Out here? You're... too guarded."

Steffy smirked. "I'm like this with all men, sir. Don't think you're special. Besides, I just met you."

"Fair enough."

They stood in silence, watching the rain. Her eyes wandered to the muddy puddles forming around them. Raised in luxury, she wasn't used to such grime but swallowed her complaints.

"So," Teacher Greg said. "How's your first day?"

"It's fine, I guess."

Just then, a sleek black pick-up truck pulled up, the window rolling down to reveal a burly man in the driver's seat.

"My dad's here," she said, quickly heading to the vehicle. "Thanks for the umbrella, sir. See you tomorrow!"

"Yeah…" the teacher replied. "See you tomorrow, Steffy." He smiled and nodded at the driver, who politely waved before the window rolled back up.

Inside the truck, Steffy was finally able to exhale a sigh of relief.

"Guy's got a thing for you, Miss," George, posing as her father, said with a smirk. "Be careful."

"Shut up, George," she snapped, rolling her eyes. "I don't like older men—or any men, for that matter."

"Me neither," George muttered. "Especially creeps like him. Fucking predators..."

"Don't worry about him," Steffy said, lighting a cigarette and blowing out a plume of smoke. Her lips curled into a cold smile. "They'll all be dead soon enough."