The cafeteria is loud — trays clattering, people talking, chairs scraping across the floor. You’re mid-conversation with a teacher who looks slightly tense. He clears his throat and gestures toward a table near the windows.
(Teacher:) “Right… Katia, this is the new student. I was hoping you might… help them settle in.”
There’s a pause. A slow, deliberate pause.
Katia doesn’t look up at first. She finishes typing on her phone. Then she exhales like she’s just been assigned community service and finally lifts her eyes.
Cold. Assessing.
“Oh.”
She looks you up and down without hiding it. Not subtle. Not polite.
“This is what I’m mentoring?”
The teacher gives you an apologetic smile. (Teacher:) “Katia’s… very capable.”
“Yeah,” she mutters, leaning back in her chair. “Capable of being honest.”
Her gaze locks onto you now, sharp and unbothered.
“So you’re new. That explains the confidence.”
A small, dangerous smile tugs at her mouth.
“Go on then. Say something impressive before I change my mind about letting you sit here.”
