Mr. Abernathy swept into the classroom like a man tenured enough to no longer care about subtle entrances. "Alright, class. This is Sebastian. He's new. Don't scare him off. I'm the only one allowed to do that."
Sebastian gave a two-finger salute to the class like he was greeting soldiers before a mission. Half the students blinked. One kid in the front row clutched his inhaler. A girl in the back whispered.
"Take a seat next to… let's see, Mike Newton," Abernathy said, pointing to an empty stool near the middle lab bench.
Mike Newton smiled like someone who got excited about tax season.
Sebastian slid into the seat and glanced around. The lab smelled like burnt rubber and teenage indifference.
"Today," Abernathy declared, slapping a worksheet onto the front desk, "you'll be recreating the classic baking soda, vinegar reaction, but with a twist. You'll be working with alternative acids and bases to observe different reaction intensities. Remember: goggles on. Hair tied. Sanity optional."
The room buzzed with activity as partners started fiddling with beakers and droppers.
Sebastian picked up a pair of goggles and placed them dramatically over his eyes. "Science," he whispered, "is just magic with better PR."
Mike chuckled. "So... uh, what school are you from?"
Sebastian shrugged. "Oh, just a small, elite academy for time-traveling baristas who fight caffeine demons in an alternate 1980s. We had a really aggressive marching band."
As the experiments got underway, Sebastian's fingers twitched with anticipation. Chemistry was cool and all, but this was too normal. He spotted two kids across the lab, giggling as they prepped their station with absolute confidence.
Perfect targets.
While Mike was busy measuring a liquid with the intense focus of someone defusing a bomb, Sebastian tilted his head slightly. One invisible twist of a vector. A microscopic force applied just the right angle. A flick of momentum redirected.
The moment the other group's acid hit the base, boom.
Not an actual explosion. More like a fizz vulcano had a meltdown. Foam erupted straight up like a soda bottle had a panic attack.
Screams. Laughter. The smell of vinegar and crushed ego.
Abernathy looked up from his desk, sighed like a man who knew better than to ask questions, and said, "Science is messy. Carry on."
Sebastian sipped from his school-issued water bottle, deadpan.
Mike blinked. "How did-?"
"Atmospheric pressure's a fickle mistress," Sebastian said, adjusting his goggles like a spy.
As the class tried to recover, a second group began their experiment, and somehow, another subtle vector nudge caused a stream of foam to hit a kid directly in the face like a slapstick pie to the cheek.
Sebastian didn't laugh. Not out loud. But internally?
10/10. Would prank again.
Abernathy raised an eyebrow towards him at one point. "You're not touching anything."
Sebastian looked innocent enough to sell halos on Etsy. "I believe in observing. I'm a pacifist. A scientific monk."
The teacher muttered something under his breath about caffeine and karma.
As class wound down, students began cleaning up. Mike turned to Sebastian.
"You're pretty chill," he said. "You into chemistry?"
Sebastian stood, adjusted his hoodie, and said, "I'm into whatever lets me legally mess with reality."
Mike blinked. "Uh… cool?"
As they filed out, Abernathy called out behind them, "Tomorrow, gas reactions. Try not to poison each other."
Sebastian grinned as he stepped into the hallway, the scent of vinegar still lingering in his hoodie. First day, first class, and already mild chaos had been sowed.
Mission: Science Class Menace-complete.
The next stop in Sebastian's whirlwind tour of teenage education was Math, every delinquent genius's favorite playground. He strolled in fashionably late, flashing the same crooked grin that usually preceded an inappropriate joke or spontaneous combustion.
"Mr. Cross," the math teacher, a wiry guy with chalk dust in his hair, blinked at Sebastian. "Ah. You must be the new student. Take any seat, preferably one far away from my caffeine."
Sebastian scanned the room.
And spotted him.
Emmett Cullen. Built like an NFL linebacker who moonlighted as a brick wall, sitting with his desk slightly askew to accommodate his sheer presence.
Sebastian beelined straight to the empty seat beside him,
"Mind if I join the muscle club?" Sebastian asked, plopping down without waiting.
Emmett grinned, intrigued. "Only if you bring snacks."
Sebastian leaned back in his chair. "Got protein bars and sarcasm. Choose your poison."
That earned a laugh. "Name's Emmett."
"Sebastian. Professional delinquent. Amateur philosopher. Full time menace."
Mr. Cross cleared his throat. "If you two lovebirds are done bonding, I'd like to begin teaching logarithms."
Sebastian whispered, "Sounds like a disease."
Emmett chuckled again, low and booming.
As equations appeared on the board, Emmett glanced sideways. "You any good at Math?"
Sebastian cracked his knuckles. "I once solved a differential equation using a burrito wrapper and a paperclip."
"Respect."
And just like that, a new chaotic alliance was born.
END OF CHAPTER 10