The clock ticked just past 9:02 when Elias set his pen down.
He didn't look around. Didn't smirk. Didn't sigh dramatically like the guy in the corner pretending to be done early. He simply folded his hands and waited, still and silent.
The classroom buzzed in low-level frustration as students scribbled, scratched their heads, or whispered frantic clarifications to themselves.
Mr. Halbern, their tired AP History teacher, glanced up from his desk.
"You're finished already?"
Elias gave a small nod. "Should I hand it in?"
The teacher blinked like someone who hadn't updated his mental software since 2008. "Uh. Sure. If you're... actually finished."
Elias rose, walked to the front, and set his quiz down face-up.
Alex Dunphy's eyes tracked every step like a hawk with a PhD.
He returned to his seat. Crossed one ankle over his knee. Waited.
A minute passed. Then five. Pages rustled. Mr. Halbern squinted at Elias's quiz, flipping through with a growing frown. Not the confused kind — the disbelieving kind. The kind of face a man makes when he realizes someone's solved a riddle he didn't think had an answer.
A quiet "Huh" slipped out.
Another page turn.
Then: "...Huh."
By the time the last student handed in their paper, Mr. Halbern cleared his throat with enough force to get everyone's attention.
"Well. Normally I'd go over this tomorrow, but we've got... an interesting development."
He lifted one page.
"Elias Reed just scored a hundred percent on a quiz designed to give you all a healthy sense of failure."
Murmurs broke out across the room.
"No way."
"What?!"
"I couldn't even read question seven!"
Alex Dunphy was already staring dead ahead, not blinking.
"...That quiz included a handwritten quote from a Revolutionary War general whose name I intentionally spelled wrong. Elias not only corrected it, but cited the original correspondence from 1779."
Elias didn't move.
Mr. Halbern looked vaguely shaken. "Frankly, I'm offended."
Laughter rippled around the class.
The teacher tossed the paper on his desk. "Well. I guess we can all go home. Mr. Reed, congratulations on destroying the curve."
He smiled at the class like a man who no longer believed in God.
A kid leaned over to Elias.
"Dude, are you like... twenty-five?"
Elias tilted his head. "Depends. Emotionally or chronologically?"
More laughter.
Alex's pencil tapped her notebook once. Twice. Then snapped in half.
She stood abruptly and crossed the room as the bell rang.
Elias caught the motion in his peripheral vision. He waited.
She stopped beside his desk.
"You cheated."
His head turned slowly. "Good morning to you, too."
"You're new. That quiz is impossible. You cheated."
Elias met her gaze, calm and unreadable.
"You have an interesting definition of impossible."
Her mouth tightened, but she didn't look away.
"Let me guess," he said softly. "You're always the smartest person in the room."
Her silence was answer enough.
"Well," Elias added, rising from his seat, "welcome to a new semester."
He walked past her.
She stared after him, burning holes into the back of his hoodie.