Mia

Mia smoothed down the pleats of her navy skirt as she stepped into the bright, colorful classroom, her heart hammering in her chest.The desks were arranged in neat rows, small but not too small, designed for students like her, who had been classified as “Primary School Level” just like her.

She had woken up that morning determined. The BAM test had placed her here, and she would make sure she didn’t give anyone a reason to question it. If she followed the rules, stayed quiet, and worked hard, maybe—just maybe—she could prove she deserved to be here. Maybe even move up someday.

The other students were already seated as she slid into a desk near the middle of the room, trying to blend in. She recognized a few faces from around campus—students who, like her, had recently received their results. Some sat stiffly in their uniforms, clearly still adjusting to their placement. Others, though, looked completely at ease, chatting and giggling as if this was just another day.

A boy next to her—blond, with a crisp white shirt buttoned up all the way—glanced over. “New?” he asked, his voice low enough not to attract the teacher’s attention.

Mia nodded, gripping her pencil tightly. “Yeah. Got my results yesterday.”

He gave her a sympathetic smile. “You’re lucky. I’ve been here for three years.”

Three years.

Mia swallowed. The thought of staying at this level for that long—or longer—made her stomach twist.

Before she could respond, the teacher clapped her hands at the front of the room. “Alright, class, settle down! Let’s begin with our math review.”

Mia straightened in her seat as the lesson began, determined to focus. The material wasn’t difficult—basic multiplication, division, simple fractions. Things she had learned long ago. But she worked through the problems diligently, showing her work neatly, keeping her head down. She refused to give them any reason to doubt her placement.

As the lesson continued, she stole glances at the other students. Some, like her, were focused and careful with their work. Others, like the boy next to her, doodled in the margins of their notebooks or stared out the window, clearly uninterested.

Then there were the students in the back—the ones who whispered and giggled behind their hands. Mia tried not to look at them, but she felt their glances. The way they sized up the newcomers.

“Mia ,” the teacher called.

Mia’s head snapped up. “Yes, ma’am?”

“Would you like to come to the board and solve this problem?”

She nodded quickly, standing and smoothing her skirt again before walking to the front. The chalk felt strange in her hand as she carefully worked through the equation, her pulse pounding.

When she finished, the teacher smiled. “Very good, Mia. You’re off to a great start.”

Mia let out a quiet breath as she returned to her seat, relief washing over her. She was doing it. She was proving herself.