Over the next ten minutes, Ethan walked the crowd through the remaining two solution methods.
Below the stage, every physics teacher in the department was scribbling furiously — checking each step, verifying each derivation, hunting for the error that would let them dismiss this as a fluke.
They didn't find one.
All three methods were valid. All three were correct. And two of them were approaches that even Dr. Helen Archer — the woman who'd written the problem — hadn't considered.
"Impossible!" Greer's voice cracked like cheap glass. "You searched for the answers online! Someone helped you cheat!"
The students in the crowd barely bothered to hide their contempt. They'd searched for the problem themselves the moment it was assigned — it was a brand-new question. No solutions existed anywhere. The Old Witch was flailing, and everyone could see it.
Dr. Archer had seen enough.
As the creator of the problem, she knew better than anyone that this couldn't be faked. The question was original. The solution methods were novel. And the idea that a scholarship kid from Millbrook County had somehow found a professional physicist more capable than her to feed him answers? Laughable.
The only explanation was genuine, extraordinary talent. The kind of scientific intuition that couldn't be taught — only discovered.
She'd tolerated Greer's behavior for years. Looked the other way out of collegial courtesy. But involving the future of a student like this? That was a line she refused to let anyone cross.
"What exactly are you implying, Ms. Greer?" Dr. Archer's voice was quiet, but it carried across the courtyard like a blade. "Are you suggesting that the problem I created can be found on the internet? That the answer is something you can simply look up?"
Greer's face went from red to white in the space of a heartbeat.
In her rush to discredit Ethan, she'd accidentally insulted her direct superior — the head of the entire physics department, a woman whose professional reputation could crush hers like a bug.
Beside them, Thornton's eyes narrowed. He hadn't survived years as Grade Director without learning to read a room.
Archer wasn't attacking Greer. Not really. She was sending a signal: this student is mine, and if you touch him, you go through me.
And the calculation was simple. One Ethan Mercer would cost Thornton a single promotion cycle. One Helen Archer could cost him the rest of his career.
Archer was a senior teacher. Provincial backbone of the education system. Even the school leadership deferred to her. If she'd had any ambition for administrative positions, she'd have outranked him years ago.
Should he really make an enemy of Helen Archer over one expendable student?
The answer wrote itself.
Thornton fell silent. Said nothing more.
Seeing that neither antagonist was pressing the expulsion, Dr. Archer let out a quiet breath of relief and turned to Ethan.
"Mercer. Let's put this matter to rest." Her voice softened — still professional, but warm in a way Ethan hadn't heard from a teacher in two years. "From today, I'll personally oversee your physics education. If you can win a national award at the National Physics Competition, you'll qualify for direct admission to a top university — regardless of your other grades."
The courtyard exploded.
"Are you kidding me? After all that, he's not only not expelled — he's getting mentored by Dr. Archer?"
"Do you know how many people would kill for that? She turned down the principal's kid for private tutoring!"
"Mercer just fell face-first into a gold mine. That's the luckiest thing I've ever seen."
Near Class Three, Sophia Langford felt something she hadn't expected: a flicker of regret.
If Ethan followed Dr. Archer, his future could genuinely be bright. The national competition was a direct pipeline to Grandfield and Hartwell. Was her decision to break up still—
She glanced at the suitors flanking her. Sons of executives. Heirs to family fortunes. Boys who could enter those same universities through legacy connections, who had safety nets made of money and influence.
The regret evaporated.
No matter how she measured it, her choice had been correct. It had to be.
On stage, Ethan felt a genuine surge of gratitude.
In nearly two years at Ashford Prep, Dr. Archer was the only person who'd ever treated him fairly. Whenever he'd come to her with a question — even the basic ones, the ones that made other teachers sneer — she'd explain patiently, thoroughly, without a trace of condescension.
She was the single good thing about this school.
But staying was impossible. It wasn't about pride — though that was part of it. The real issue was practical. Building a miniature nuclear reactor required space, time, materials, and absolute secrecy. None of which were available inside a school dormitory.
"Dr. Archer." He turned to face her, and his voice was quiet enough that only she could hear. "I can't tell you how much this means to me. You're the only person here who ever gave me a fair chance."
Then louder, for the crowd:
"But in a school this full of injustice — where a student's worth is measured by their parents' bank account and connections — I don't want to stay for one more minute."
Dr. Archer opened her mouth to argue, saw the steel in his eyes, and closed it again.
She knew. Over two years, she'd watched this kid endure things that would have broken most adults. Bullying. Theft. Mockery. Teachers who used him as target practice. An entire institution that treated poverty as a character flaw.
If she'd been in his shoes, she wouldn't stay either.
"Mercer." She sighed, and for a moment she looked tired — not from the confrontation, but from years of watching a broken system chew up good kids. "If that's your decision, I won't force you. But listen to me: if you ever need anything — anything — you come find me. You may be leaving this school, but as far as I'm concerned, you will always be my student."
Something hot and tight constricted in Ethan's chest.
"Dr. Archer. If I make something of myself — when I make something of myself — I won't forget what you did for me today."
He meant it. Every word.
Off to the side, Greer and Thornton were practically vibrating with glee. They'd been agonizing over how to push the expulsion past Archer's interference, and now the kid was volunteering to leave? Christmas had come early.
But before Thornton could open his mouth to formalize it, Ethan cut him off.
"Thornton. Greer." He looked at them the way you'd look at something stuck to the bottom of your shoe. "I'm leaving. But I want to be crystal clear: this is my choice. I am walking out. Not being expelled. Not being pushed. Leaving. On my own terms."
He turned back to the crowd — a thousand faces staring up at him, some shocked, some amused, some grudgingly impressed.
"And one more thing. You two — Thornton, Greer — remember this day. Because my leaving will be the single greatest loss in the history of Ashford Prep. You are the ones responsible. And you—" he pointed at the covered walkway where the school leadership had retreated, "—will spend the rest of your careers regretting that you let it happen."
The crowd went silent.
Then the whispers started — not mocking, not this time. Something else.
Below the stage, Sophia Langford watched the boy walk off the podium without looking back.
For a moment — just a flash — she saw the kid from middle school. The one who'd beaten her on every exam, who'd grinned at her across the classroom like the whole world was something he could figure out if he just worked hard enough.
She blinked, and the image was gone.
Doesn't matter. Not anymore.
Her jaw tightened — just barely, just for a second — before the mask slid back into place.
"He's delusional," Megan said beside her, wiping tears of laughter from her cheeks. "Rejected Dr. Archer's offer and gave a farewell speech like he's some kind of main character? Give him the award for Most Dramatic Exit."
Sophia said nothing.
But the mockery on her face was enough. The suitors around her nodded along, reassured, and the wall between her world and Ethan's grew one brick taller.
We're from different worlds now, she told herself. From this moment on, the name Ethan Mercer has no place in my life.
Meanwhile, Ethan was already out the school gates and heading for the bus station.
He had no time for any of them. There were more important things waiting.
Like building a nuclear reactor.
PLZ Throw Powerstones.