If you looked through the internet, Crestborne Academy is described as this prestigious school that housed the geniuses of the modern Philippines. The pure fantasy of every meritocracy-centered mindset—the perfect school.

  Yet, as I stood before the gate of this school painted by the color of monotony and depression, I can't help but feel the loneliness of its halls. From the first glance, both the gates and the various buildings inside were architecturally-precised with minimalist designs. Unlike other universities which were by the shades or maroon or blue or green, Crestborne was coated in various shades of gray.

  From the glance alone, this school gives the imposing symbol of monotony. I wonder if it was the same for their students...

  "Excuse me?"

  I instinctively turned around when I heard a voice behind me. There was a girl; and judging by the girl's blue blazers with white borders on its collar and sleeves, as well as the below-the-knee skirts of the matching colors, she is a Crestborne student.

  "Hello?."

  I looked up, observing the features of her face. Her almond eyes shined with a little shade of green as the sun shone upon them, her small face housed her pointed nose, pouty lips, and rosy cheeks, all contained in her jet black hair that is just reaching slightly above her shoulders. At first glance, she is what you could define as cute, yet her annoyed expression said that she doesn't take such compliments.

  "Hey, are you deaf or what? I said move."

  "Oh, you're talking to me..." I responded, which caused her left eyebrow to rise.

  "Oh, you're audibly challenged via social naivete. Sorry, that was rude, mister." The sarcastic remark of the girl left me speechless.

  Ouch, she's quite... sharp.

  Having no words to say, I just moved sideways to give her way. I don't get this woman, the walkway was wide enough that even two buses can drive here at the same time with ease. Does she have an extreme sense of pride or what?

  "Tss. You could have done that quicker." I chose to ignore what she said and just watch her enter the academy. It is my first day, a minor inconvenience should not ruin the rest of my day.

  I shifted my gaze up the arc above the gate. In the cement, there was an engraved logo of the school—a crescent moon right at the very top of a circle; a representation of a book shaped in a mountain; a stylized-quill with the shape of a torch situated right at the very peak; and lastly a blue phoenix making the borders of the circle. Below the logo were the words "Legacies Written from the Ashes."

  It's giving phoenix vibe; it's probably hot inside, as well.

  I can't help but scoff at my own inside joke. I shook my head and fixed the collar of my uniform. I pondered again at the words below the logo of the academy. At first glance, they seemed to just be some random figure of speech the creator made as he was brainstorming for a catchphrase. Yet if you dived deeper, they reflect the spirit of meritocracy. One must burn himself first before he was reborn of a title and prestige, like a phoenix. Such enticing ideas of martyrdom, isn't it?

  What I don't get though, is why people do such things?

  I looked forward and watched the countless students in blue uniforms as they walked towards the school. Some were timid and shy, some were extroverted. But if there's one thing that unites them all, that is lahat sila excited.

  I sighed. I just don't get it.

  I looked up the blue phoenix again.

  Why do people chase such irrelevant things?

  - - -

  Yawns, sighs, uninterested chatters. If there are three things that could summarize the opening ceremony, that's that.

  It was just 6:00 in the morning, and we are now in Crestborne's gymnasium. It was a wide space, with an area enough to cater four basketball courts, and to contain a population of Grade 7 to Grade 12 with four sections each as well. Each section has exactly 30 students each, the whole school amounting to a total of 720 students, not considering if there be any expelled students. Though even with that sheer number alone, the place doesn't feel congested but rather still wide enough to cater twice as much of the current population.

  I looked up at the stage in front of the hall. Up there stands about 10 students, probably grade 12, who stood alongside the set of teachers. Two students were administering the program, while the rest just sat there with a monotonous look in their face, completely opposite to the rest of the student body.

  "Ahem, mic test." I looked back to the podium as an elderly man switched places with the two students. He was now looking towards us, surveying the rows of students standing. Yet instead of talking immediately, he just remained still, as if listening to the bickering of the students all around him.

  "Is he really waiting for everyone to shut up?" I shifted my attention to the girl in my right. She was looking up at the stage, and seemed to have been watching the elderly man with confusion.

  The girl noticed my gaze and turned her face towards me, her face had obvious signs of annoyance.

  "What are you looking at?"

  "Nothing." I removed my gaze at her and shifted my attention to my surroundings, instead. Some students seemed to have noticed the elderly man's stares and have shut up. But the majority were still doing their own thing.

  "Wait, you felt familiar..." I gave the girl a side-glance when she talked again. It was obvious that she was talking to me, even without confirmation. Well, of course I'll be familiar. This was the same girl back at the gate. "Oh yeah, I remember. You're that stupid guy from earlier."

  Ouch. Still blunt, huh? I prefer the previous one, it's much more classy.

  "So we're in the same class, huh?" I looked back at her. I'm surprised that she is still talking to me.

  "The disgust of the idea shows so much in your words."

  "Well, who wouldn't? From the first glance, your introverted misery is already slipping out." Does this girl not know how to catch a break?

  "Then don't talk to me. Nobody requires you to do so." I hate to be rude, but I'm willing to give back what I received.

  "We have to be kind, always. Even if we don't want to." Why does that sound a lot like 'I cannot leave you alone even if I want to since you might kill yourself out of despair'?

  "I guess I have almost everyone's attention now." I was about to answer back when the elderly man on the stage finally spoke. "Greetings, everyone. I am Izaiah Fuentebello, the current chairperson of this academy." The man on the stage introduced himself. "To be honest, I still can't believe that I am standing right in front of the Philippine's future rulers. I had just one simple thought back then, all I've wanted is to win a bet on who falls asleep first during homeroom."

  Half of the student body laughed at the man's words. Some were actually amused, some just for formality, in their face it was obvious that they have heard this countless times before.

  The man proceeds to narrate his life as a seemingly normal student to now becoming one of the owners to one of the Philippine's most prestigious academy. He has his way with words, although some were still obviously uninterested, but the way he talks was enticing that you would still listen to him even with only half your ears.

  "As a former student like yourself, I believe that quality education is for everyone. And I also believe that everyone has a chance, everyone is a phoenix in their own ways. They have the ability to give their all, to be willing to burn, to be turned to ashes, and be reborn through as a brand new person."

  He proceeded to give his inspirational speech after doing a life story. A common way of getting people using your own life, making them sympathize with your journey, making them think that this man was just like their own selves, so that your main agendas will be implanted easier to their minds. A simple tactic, yet very effective. Even the girl at my side was baffled and is now listening to him attentively.

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

  Well, me?

  I still don't get it.

  From the way he was phrasing it, he is romanticizing martyrdom for achievements. He is making people like the idea of 'burning oneself' to be 'reborn'. That's just plainly ridiculous.

  "What I say is, everyone has an opportunity, a chance to be up to the pedestal. To be recognized through efforts and excellence. And I believe that this academy can bring out the best of you." Such an interesting way of getting people... making everyone have a sense of equality and erasing the idea of its limitations. In fact, the man never used the word 'equal' even once. He is not a hypocrite with his words, I give that to him.

  Yet, I've noticed, ever since the start of the ceremony, I've been getting that unique sense that everyone was watching me. Well, not me, to be precise, but rather, our row.

  Class 1-D.

  At the start of the ceremony, we have been rowed based on our class, and I am now with the rest of my section. And ever since a while ago, both the students of the same grade, as well as the seniors, have been giving us the side glance. As if judging us before we even did anything.

  I tried to look at my left, where class 1-C was. And yes, I was right. The girl was giving me an uncomfortable stare. Like as if she hates me, or rather, she hates us.

  I gulped and looked at the man again. He looked so composed, yet if you think about it, he never once looked at class 1-D. We are the very last rows, and I know that his gaze never once reached our place.

  "Thank you for choosing this school, my beloved students. Once again, welcome to Crestborne Academy."

  Do you really believe the words you are saying, Mr. Chairperson?

  - - -

  The classroom was not any different to the halls or the external paint of the academy. It's just that, the room was painted in a shade of gray way lighter than any of the shades I have seen so far. It is painted in a color much closer to white than it is to gray. Aside from the whiteboard, appliances, and the white desks in the room, the room itself would be purely colored in that shade.

  "Why does it feel more like a prison than a classroom?" I looked at the girl beside me. It was our third time meeting this morning, and coincidentally, we arrived at the door at the same time.

  "The whole academy itself felt like a prison."

  "That's true." The girl stepped in first. Almost all the seats were taken, aside from the two at the corner most seats by the window. The girl clicked her tongue. "Guess we'll be seatmates, after all."

  "Yeah, talk about destiny."

  "Don't put that disgusting word to label our misfortune." Seriously, the moment I thought this woman's words wouldn't hurt more than the previous ones had been, she would find a way to surprise me again. "You take the window chair."

  "Is that another one of your 'be kind' moments?"

  "No, I don't want the sun in my face each morning. You're not really a large person, but you are more than enough as a cover."

  "So I'm just a human curtain, huh?" I muttered as I sat on my seat. This place was comfortable with the wind and all. But yeah, the sun may really be a bother. Why do they design classrooms like this, anyway?

  "I couldn't have worded it more accurately than you did just now, Mr. Socially-Awkward." I thought the girl wouldn't be interested in talking anymore, so it is a surprise she was still responding.

  "Heiden."

  "Huh?"

  "Heiden Costello. We'll be each other's company for the rest of senior high, you might as well call me by my name."

  "Correction, I am not your company, Mr. Costello." She spoke, her voice full of conviction. "And don't talk to me again." She added. I want to complain since she got my name but I didn't get hers, but I was still baffled at the way she called me. It was a weird way of referring to anyone, especially to teenagers just your own age, but I kept my mouth shut.

  I shifted my attention to the people around me. As usual, this room was composed of all variations of stereotypical teenagers. There's the silent ones, sitting still in their place like me and the girl and some other people. There's the immediate group of girls who seemed to have made each other company in a short span of time. There are the boys eyeing both the girls inside and outside the classrooms with lustful eyes. There is the minority bunch who seem to have been making their way to befriend everyone. There are the common school jocks who at first glance you would immediately want to avoid.

  Seriously, do fiction and reality not have any better idea than these traditional bunches? If cliches exist in real life, this is it.

  Though, if you think about it better, these other 29 individuals would be my company for the rest of my high school life. While that is not my choice in and of itself, I'd still have to compromise. And I probably should start my life by making friends.

  I looked at the girl beside me. She wasn't looking at me but is instead busy labelling her notes by subject. The school staff gave each one of us a list of our teachers before entering the room.

  She looked at me when she noticed my gaze. I then averted my eyes to look around hoping for any prospect of friendship. Yet, almost everyone was in their own circles now. I missed the chance to socialize before the act of socializing became a war rather than a challenge.

  Fuu...

  "Good morning, Class." I shifted my gaze when a woman much older than us entered the room. Well, I say she is about 30 based on her face that is effortlessly pretty, but her whole expression makes it feel like she has seen the darkness of the world.

  Just like this girl beside me.

  "First of all, I want to congratulate you all for making it to Crestborne Academy." The woman started speaking as soon as everyone was back into their chairs. "I want you all to put all your electric appliances in this basket. I don't want any disruption in my class."

  That is when I noticed the plastic basket she bought with her. I hesitated and touched my phone in my pocket. I know it was temporary, but is this really necessary?

  The woman never spoke again and just waited. Then, the students in the first row stood up and started depositing their phone in the basket. Some were skeptical, at first, but they went with the flow when the majority started doing the same. I watched them go in front, and only stood up when the girl beside me also did. I put my phone in the basket, right above the bunch of phones, before going back to my chair.

  "My name is Irene Mathilde de la Vega, but you can call me by my first name. I am delighted to be your homeroom teacher for the next two years." She continued. The others regarded their greetings, as well. Some boys even complimented the teacher. I so wanted to believe that, if not for how she said those words with no smile nor excitement on her face.

  "Something's off with that teacher." I looked to my side; the girl spoke again. Napansin din niya iyong kakaiba sa homeroom namin.

  And the, the teacher spoke.

  "Is that what you are expecting me to say?" I almost shivered when I heard the coldness in the teacher's voice. Some students probably didn't hear her, but a large percentage was caught off guard by her words and were listening intently. "Class 1-D of Crestborne Academy. In which part of the?Philippines did you find the audacity to feel comfortable?" Then, the class was silenced. The woman's voice resonates at the four corners of the room. "Why in the world do you think you deserve being in this place?"

  "H-hey, ma'am. I think you—"

  "Ma'am? You're from public school. Figures." The woman interrupted the one talking, making him sit down again out of embarrassment. "See yourself, class. The majority of you didn't even get a score above 70 in the entrance exam. How do you expect that your lowly life could compete in an establishment like Crestborne?"

  That... cut too deep. I can feel the students around me gritting their teeth in anger. The entrance exam was challenging. And to get above 50 is still impressive. Yet there is this teacher who's invalidating that...

  "Let me be frank, Class 1-D. I don't like the bunch of you who think you are entitled to any praise in a school like this. You just got here because you are slightly better than the weaklings whom you have overtaken. But, you are still the lowest-ranked section of this batch. Even overtaking the previous batch for the lowest place.

  "Feel free to record me saying all this. Oh wait," The teacher pushed the basket slightly forward. "You can't, for you thought that following the rules imposed on this place will make you blend in. Let me tell you already, class. Obedience in this place is not always the answer." Then, the teacher smiled for the first time. "Welcome to Crestborne, everyone. A place that will burn you away if you cannot adapt fast enough."

  Everyone was silent. Not one of them can say a word. It feels like everyone was taking in the teacher's speech in their heart. I can feel that some of them wanted to complain and vent out their wrath about the teacher. But everyone remained quiet.

  "I guess I have your attention now." The teacher lifted the stack of bondpapers she brought with her. "This is the school's pre-test for grade 11. It is a multiple choice test consisting of 50 questions ranging from General Mathematics to Abstract Reasoning. On the other hand, answer sheets." I looked at the tiny piece of paper in her right hand. They are rather small, but from my seat I could see that they contained various cicles. "I know you have the common sense on how to shade circles. Do I need to explain what to do with these?"

  No one answered. Rather, they were weighing their words.

  "I take that as a no. You have one hour to complete the test. Don't disappoint me further than I have already been."

  And that's basically how we are put into this situation. 10 minutes in and I was still contemplating the words of our homeroom teacher. Everyone seems to be answering already, rather through contempt than with free will. They seem to be wanting to prove the teachers wrong.

  Some students were scratching their heads as they answered. I understand them. After all, this exam was of a different calibre than the ones we answered back at the entrance exam. These questions can easily pass on as the final exam. In fact, they don't feel like a test to evaluate what we already know, they are a test to evaluate what we do not know.

  I looked at my own test papers. The topics of the questions ranged from midterm mathematics and advanced language and communication. Even a grade 12 student will have difficulty answering these.

  I looked at the teacher in front. She was watching us, her expression was that of boredom and lack of interest. After her strange speech a while ago, she seemed to have calmed down. Yet, I still cannot put my mind at ease. Just what does she have on her mind?

  I looked back at the questionnaires. Normally, a majority will fall onto the middle marks. But with this kind of exam, the probability being skewed to the left was a much more likely outcome. I contemplated my choices as I let the words and numbers flow through my brain.

  Would doing well in this give me the satisfaction that I want? I was a bit hurt by the teacher's words, yet I can't find the motivation...

  Fuu...

  I looked up again to the teacher.

  What if...

  I closed my eyes once. I lifted up my pencil.

  - - -

  "I guess this is all." The teacher looked with boredom as she looked at the stacked answer sheets on her table. She stood up and did some stretching before taking her phone out. "Stay seated. This will serve as your attendance."

  Then the teacher sat comfortably at the center table. She took the topmost paper and allowed it to rest in her lap. She was wearing a modest pencil skirt so no perverted mind can take advantage of her position. And I doubt anyone would even try after her attitude a while ago.

  She pointed the phone's lens at the paper. This is one advantage of technology. Exams—with just a few barcodes, circles, and a camera lens—could be checked with such efficiency without much hassle.

  "Peter Calvin Mendrano, 32."

  I can't help but be impressed. I expected someone to get such a score in that absurdly hard exam, but it was still a shock.

  The teacher took another paper and did the same.

  "Ailen Claire Lucio, 37."

  Now that was even more impressive. Well, 37 is still reasonable. Surely the rest will start to descend in score.

  "Harry Steven Sama?ego, 34."

  Suddenly I felt uneasy. It was the third time someone got a 30+ mark. While statistically possible, it was very unlikely. Especially since this was what was supposed to be the 'lowest-ranked section of the bunch'.

  I gulped.

  Surely... surely the rest of the scores would start to descend.

  But I was put into more anxiety as the rest of the scores were revealed.

  35, 34, 38, 41, 33, 39...

  This class... all of their scores were above 30. That's just... that's just statistically impossible with an exam like that. I looked around the students. The ones who had their scores announced were smiling a little. And the ones still waiting, they have anxiety on their face, yet their gestures... they felt confident.

  This class... I underestimated them... They were not your ordinary students.

  "Vincent Louie De Louvre, 44."

  This class was not what you see in the common schools. All of them are above average.

  I looked towards the teachers in the front. She wasn't smiling, but her face was no longer that of disgust. She...

  I scoffed.

  I realized it now.

  "What's with you?" I looked at the girl beside me as she spoke. She has noticed my uneasiness. "You seem so agitated."

  "I misread her intention."

  "Ha?" I never answered her again.

  I contemplated the fact that I missed it. The reverse psychology she was playing. She isn't bringing us down with her words. She was giving us reasons to do our best. She made a common enemy for the class, and she used that to boost our desires. One of the strongest emotions, after all, is anger. And she utilized it successfully.

  "Iona Belmonte..." I looked at my side. If I were correct, that is the 29th seat, hers. I was trying to catch a glimpse of anxiety in her eyes, but the only one existing there was confidence. Out of everyone here, she was the most confident.

  "...50."

  Applause surrounded the room as her perfect score was announced. Some give their praises, even the teacher smiled a bit. The girl just regarded them with shy smiles.

  I laughed at my own misfortune.

  "Heiden Costello..." I looked forward to the center table. That is when I saw the teacher looking at my paper with surprise. She looked at me and then back to the paper. Even Iona, the girl beside me, noticed it. The teacher sighed and cleared her throat. "Heiden Costello..."

  She looked at me straight in the eye.

  "... Zero."

  The loudest silence erupted in the room as I felt multiple eyes directed towards me. I can feel their confusion and suspicion in their eyes. Even my uninterested seatmate was looking at me with pure disbelief.

  I can't help but laugh inwardly. I miscalculated.

  I looked towards the teacher in front. She was the most suspicious of me. Why wouldn't she?

  The answer sheet, it was not blank.

  Rather, I've answered every single question on the test.

  - o - o -