___________________________
"Know the rules well, so you can break them."
— Dalai Lama
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ORIENTATION BEGINS
Conference Room C — Orientation
The vice principal cleared his throat.
The sound alone was enough to pull the room into order.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, with a neatly trimmed beard and glasses that made his eyes look permanently unimpressed. His presence didn't demand attention loudly—it expected it.
"Good," he said, glancing at his wristwatch. "All present. I don't like repeating myself."
He set a thin folder on the table and rested both palms on its surface.
"Welcome to Chyroma Amad Academy."
His gaze swept across us—slow, deliberate.
"MiMie A. Jiddah."
I met his eyes without flinching.
"Mushtafar Baba_Ali"
Mustyy straightened immediately, nodding a little too eagerly.
"Tahir A. Salman."
Tahir didn't react. Didn't nod. Didn't blink. Just… existed.
The vice principal noticed.
Of course he did.
"You three are transfer students," he continued. "Which means two things. First—you are already under scrutiny. Second—you do not have the luxury of mistakes."
He slid the folder open.
"You've arrived five weeks before examinations. One week before the Elite Competition. That timing alone tells me this wasn't accidental."
His eyes lingered on me for half a second longer than the others.
"This school does not believe in easing people in," he said. "We believe in pressure. Because pressure reveals character."
Mustyy swallowed.
Tahir leaned back slightly in his chair.
I crossed my legs.
"Now," the vice principal went on, "let me make something very clear. C.A.A is not a place where you find yourself. It's a place where you prove whether you were ever worth finding."
Silence.
"You will be evaluated academically, socially, and—yes—strategically."
Mustyy frowned. "Strategically, sir…?"
One of the senior students chuckled softly. The girl didn't.
The vice principal didn't smile.
"This school produces leaders," he said. "Leaders compete. Leaders adapt. Leaders learn how to move people without being seen."
His gaze flicked—briefly—to Me
"You will be assigned houses, mentors, and temporary peer guides."
He gestured to the two seniors behind him. "These are your immediate points of reference. Ignore them at your own risk."
The boy smiled politely. The girl's eyes were sharp. Assessing.
"Rules," the vice principal said, tapping the folder. "You break them, you answer to me, through the power of the Student President and Student Union Government, SUG office. You bend them cleverly, and you answer to the system. Choose which consequences you prefer."
Mustyy's eyes widened.
I hid my smile.
"Transfers," he added, "often believe they can remain neutral."
He shook his head slowly.
"There is no neutrality here."
His voice dropped.
"There is C.A.A… and there is everyone else."
The room felt smaller.
"You will attend classes starting tomorrow. Seating arrangements are already decided. Your performance during the Elite Competition will determine your standing for the rest of the term, that's if you are chosen to participate."
Then—almost casually:
"And before any of you ask—yes. We are fully aware of where you transferred from."
My chest tightened.
The vice principal closed the folder.
"Especially you," he said, looking directly at me.
I met his gaze.
Unblinking.
"Welcome to Chyroma Amad Academy," he said. "I suggest you survive, because you have already used your transfer card, so no more elite transfers for you, and Tahir."
He stepped back.
The senior girl took one step forward.
"Follow us," she said crisply. "Orientation doesn't end here."
As we stood, Mustyy leaned toward me and whispered, "Why do I feel like we just signed up for war?"
I didn't answer.
Tahir spoke instead.
"Hmm," he said softly. "Because you just did."
————————-
Campus Tour — Saleem & Isham
Saleem walked three steps ahead of them like the school already belonged to him.
"Alright," he said without turning back, "welcome to Chyroma Amad Academy. If you get lost after today, that's a you problem."
Isham elbowed him lightly.
"Ignore him. He likes pretending he's scary."
Saleem scoffed. "I am scary."
Mustyy whispered under his breath, "Noted," and nearly tripped over a pavement crack.
I watched everything quietly.
The buildings rose around us—white walls, clean edges, too-perfect symmetry. C.A.A didn't just want excellence. It wanted control.
"This," Isham said, spreading her arms dramatically, "is the Academic Wing. Classrooms, labs, teachers who smell fear."
"Especially during exams," Saleem added. "Cry quietly. Walls here are thin."
Mustyy raised a hand. "Are… are teachers actually allowed to smell fear?"
Saleem glanced back. "You'll see."
Isham laughed. "He's joking. Mostly."
We kept walking.
Students passed us—some pretending not to stare, others not bothering to hide it.
Transfer students were always interesting.
A.R.C transfers?
That was a headline.
I felt it—the looks, the whispers.
"Isn't that the A.R.C girl?"
"Why now?"
"Five weeks to exams? Crazy."
I didn't flinch.
Saleem slowed, finally walking beside us. His eyes flicked to me—sharp, calculating.
"So," he said casually, "A.R.C to C.A.A. That's bold."
"Or desperate," Isham said gently.
"Or strategic," Saleem corrected.
I met his gaze. "Depends who's asking."
A pause.
Then he smirked. "Fair enough."
Mustyy leaned closer to me and whispered, "Are all seniors like this?"
"Only the dangerous ones," I whispered back.
————————
RULES, FREEDOM, AND THE ODDITIES OF C.A.A
As they walked through the massive campus, Mustyy pointed at the rulebook like it offended him.
"Why does this school allow phones on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays? While Monday and Friday it's Disallowed…? Punishment is point Deduction. And points are Elite Currency right…? I am Confused,
Are all the other elite schools like that ?. And these subjects— and advanced courses, what even are half of these?"
Saleem laughed awkwardly.
"That's why it's an Elite school, not some Public school…
Think of this School as just the real world, Everything is transactional, and the punishments are not just consequences that happens in real life… This school Teaches you how to really function in Society…
Don't worry
You'll get used to it."
Tahir didn't believe that is all there is… there is more to it.
And deep down Everyone in the 9 elites knows it.
Next stop ——-
"This is the Sports Complex," Isham announced. "Basketball court, football pitch, lawn tennis— and so on"
She glanced at me briefly.
"—and the place reputations go to die."
Saleem folded his arms. "A.R.C dominates football, lawn tennis, Basketball in the last 3 competitions except last term football final when A.U.N won miraculously."
Mustyy asked curiously "What do C.A.A dominated ?…
Saleem about to speak but Isham Coughed. Signaling him not to say anything
Tahir hadn't said a word since we left the building. Just observing.
Hands in pockets. Eyes everywhere and nowhere at once.
Saleem noticed.
"You," he said, pointing. "Quiet one."
Tahir looked at him. "Hmm?"
"Don't 'hmm' me," Saleem said. "What do you play?"
Tahir shrugged. "Depends."
"On what?"
"On whether I feel like playing."
Mustyy choked on air.
Isham blinked. "Oh."
Saleem stared at him for a second, then laughed—short, sharp.
"Alright," he said. "You'll fit in just fine, You got that Elite Aura and Audacity."
We passed the library next—tall glass windows, heavy silence inside.
"Sacred ground," Isham whispered. "No noise. No drama. No fights."
Saleem smirked. "Officially."
Unofficially, I could already tell—
this place had seen things.
Then—
The Assembly Hall.
Saleem stopped walking.
"This," he said, voice dropping, "is where everything matters, this is Legacy."
Trophies lined the walls.
Photos.
Names.
Years.
Winners of the last 5 years of the elite Cup, each Semester/Term in Sequence (2016-2021).
ARC. ARC. C.A.A. ARC. C.A.A. AUN, ARC, A.M.A, C.A.A, EKIA, ARC, C.A.A, AUN, C.A.A, ARC….
A war frozen in glass frames.
I felt something tighten in my chest.
Stretching more than 5 years.
Totaling :
Fourteen wins. (A.R.C)
Eleven wins. (C.A.A)
History wasn't history here.
It was a scoreboard.
"I hope you'd be chosen to compete in the Elite Tournament," Isham said. "But be aware, failure will not be tolerated ..
Hey… Hey….No pressure.
Just… the reputation of the entire school."
Mustyy laughed nervously. "That's all?"
Saleem leaned closer. "Win, and you're remembered. Lose, and you're blamed."
Silence.
Then he smiled.
"But hey—no stress."
We resumed walking.
Isham pointed toward the far end of campus—past the tennis courts, past the trees.
"The old maintenance block," She said. "Nobody goes there, and no cameras, Most elite students avoids that place."
Tahir finally spoke.
"Hmm," he said. "So this is where people go to when they want to disappear?"
Saleem and Isham exchanged a look.
Saleem smirked. "In this school, nowhere is exactly forbidden, however just know that, you are always being "watched" ." Pointing at his Smart Watch.
Tahir nodded, satisfied.
I watched him carefully.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
"Final advice for today ," he said. "C.A.A doesn't break people."
He looked straight at me.
"It reveals them."
I met his gaze.
"Good," I said. "I was hoping for that."
Mustyy gulped.
Tahir smirked
And somewhere deep in the school's bones—something shifted.
______________________________________
Day 2 of the Tour – The Real C.A.A
It was the next morning when we gathered again, this time for a slightly more refined version of the tour. Saleem and Isham had made it clear this was the part of the school that actually mattered. The game faces were on.
Today, we were going to see the true battlegrounds.
⸻
The Labyrinth of the Elite
"Alright," Saleem began, eyes scanning the horizon as if he was mentally preparing himself for the battlefield. "Welcome to the inner sanctum."
Isham rolled her eyes. "This is where the 'real' C.A.A lives. The rest is just a facade."
We stood in front of the towering science labs, the pristine, imposing glass doors practically daring us to enter.
"This is where brains are born," Saleem continued, "If you're good enough, you might even get one of those glittering opportunities everyone talks about. Scholarships, internships, special programs—doesn't matter what field you choose, someone from here has already dominated it."
I glanced at the sign: Basic Sciences Lab – Advanced Bio. The words alone made me feel underprepared.
Mustyy, still in his element, grinned like a kid in a candy store. "This is where you go if you're aiming for the next Elite-Nobel Prize, huh? The one given to the overall best student of the year, from all the 9 elite school, at the last week of the 3rd Semester right ? "
"Pretty much," Isham replied, half-smiling. "We've had some real heavy-hitters pass through here. You'd be surprised who you run into if you keep your ears open."
Mustyy looked over at me, eyes twinkling. "Mimi, you're into that kind of stuff, right?"
I paused for a second. "Ehm… I'm more into winning."
Saleem chuckled. "I like that answer."
"Yeah," Mustyy said, following along. "That's the real currency around here, huh?"
Saleem's smile faded slightly. "True. But it's also a dangerous currency."
We walked in, the doors opening with a soft swoosh. Inside, students sat at high-tech desks, heads down, focused on whatever it was they were constructing. It was a well-oiled machine. No one here seemed to waste a second.
Tahir, as usual, was silent, his eyes scanning everything with detached interest.
"You might want to pay attention," Saleem said, voice suddenly serious. "One slip-up in here, and your entire future can change. Not just grades—opportunities."
I shot a glance at Tahir, catching the slight glint in his eyes. Something told me he wasn't worried about slipping up.
"Alright, moving on," Isham chirped, snapping us back into the present. "Time for the real fun."
—————————————————
The Rivalry Zone
We finished up the tour in front of The Hall of Champions, where the most famous C.A.A. athletes and scholars were immortalized in gold-and-glass displays.
"C.A.A's pride," Saleem said, voice going lower. "This is where it all started. And if you want to survive here, you need to understand this:
The rivalry with A.R.C. isn't just about sports. It's about everything."
Isham stood beside him, her usual smirk replaced with something a little more calculating. "You'll see. A.R.C is always watching, and conniving . And they won't hesitate to drag you down the second you show weakness."
I turned, eyeing Tahir carefully. "I'm used to that," I said, voice steady.
Tahir's lips twitched. He was finally speaking again. "Hmm… You'll fit in fine, then."
"I've been fitting in for years," I replied coolly.
Mustyy was still scanning the Hall of Champions, nodding in awe. "This is insane."
"This," Saleem said, pointing to the wall, "is where the real war begins."
A sharp breath escaped me as I looked up at the plaques, the championship titles, the names carved in gold. This wasn't just a school. This was an institution of war, where each student fought for relevance, for respect, for survival.
Saleem eyed me, knowing exactly what I was thinking. "The real question is… are you here to play or to win?"
I didn't need to say a word. The answer was in my eyes.
And as we stood there, the weight of the rivalry between C.A.A and A.R.C hanging thick in the air, one thing was clear:
No one was here by accident.
Not even us.
As I look at the pictures and trophies, one name that stood out to me was "Basma Zayn."
Everyone knows her as the "Genius_Zayn" or "Beauty and Brains" the girl who set standard for the name elite.
Across all 9 elites no one has even came close to breaking her records… a genius in everything…
I MiMie, as part of my long term goals, will ensure that… before the end of high school, I will break all her records, that's after I get my revenge on Safeeyah and A.R.C
This is my vow… this is my will…
_______________
Finishing the Tour
By the time the bell rang for third period, my legs were already protesting.
Saleem checked his watch and clicked his tongue.
"Alright, that's the tour. Any more walking and you'll start thinking C.A.A is a vacation spot."
Isham smirked.
"Yeah. This is where the fantasy ends and the pressure begins."
We stopped in front of a long corridor lined with framed photographs—students shaking hands with dignitaries, trophies lifted high, newspaper headlines frozen in time.
LEGACY WING, the sign read.
"Everyone here mattered," Saleem said. "Some still do."
Mustyy leaned closer to a frame.
"They ever remove these?"
"No," Isham replied. "C.A.A likes reminding you who set the bar… and how high it still is."
I brushed my fingers against the cold glass as we passed. A photo of Basma Zayn, shaking hands with the former Vice President of Nigeria.
So this was the weight everyone talked about.
Tahir didn't even glance at the walls.
Of course he didn't.
Saleem stopped at the end of the hall.
"One last thing," he said. "Once you step into class, you're not 'new' anymore. You're either relevant… or invisible."
Mustyy forced a laugh.
"No pressure, right?"
Saleem smiled.
"Exactly."
⸻
Taken to Class
The bell rang—sharp and final.
"Alright," Isham said, turning. "All three of you—SS1 Alpha."
Mustyy blinked.
"All of us?"
"Yep," Saleem replied. "Lucky day."
Tahir was already walking.
I followed.
Mustyy hurried behind us, muttering, "Why does this feel like a setup…"
⸻
SS1 Alpha
The classroom door was closed.
Inside, voices murmured. Chalk scraped against the board.
Isham knocked once.
The door opened.
The teacher paused mid-sentence.
And then—
Silence.
"This," the teacher said calmly, "is a classroom. Not a parade."
Isham stepped aside.
"Sir, the three transfer students."
Three pairs of shoes stepped in.
And the room shifted.
Whispers erupted instantly.
"That's her."
"The A.R.C girl."
"…" "...."
"Who are the other two?"
Mustyy froze.
"…Hi?"
The teacher's gaze swept over us, lingering slightly longer on me… then on Tahir and Mustyy.
"Seats. Now."
We moved.
Tahir claimed the seat near the window without hesitation.
I chose the center row—where everyone could see me.
Mustyy hesitated, then sat beside me, gripping his bag like a lifeline.
The room buzzed.
Eyes tracked every movement.
Judgment hung thick in the air.
A girl in the front twisted around openly.
A boy whispered something sharp and cruel.
The teacher cleared his throat.
"As I was saying—"
No one was listening.
They were watching.
Me—the A.R.C transfer.
Tahir—the blue-eyed Anomaly
Mustyy—the wildcard they hadn't figured out yet.
Tahir leaned back, eyes already drifting outside, detached from the storm.
Mustyy whispered, barely audible,
"Yeah… we're definitely not invisible."
I straightened my posture.
A.R.C had forged me.
C.A.A would test me.
And SS1 Alpha?
This was our battlefield.
The Test
The teacher didn't bother introducing us.
He picked up his chalk instead.
"Since we have… additions," he said, writing quickly,
"Let's see what level we're working with."
A problem appeared on the board.
Advanced.
The kind meant to humiliate quietly.
"Anyone," he said, eyes drifting—briefly—toward me,
"care to solve it?"
Silence.
Heavy.
Deliberate.
A boy in the back muttered, "Transfers shouldn't slow us down."
I stood.
Chairs creaked.
Eyes widened.
I walked to the board, took the chalk, and solved it cleanly. No flair. No explanation. Just truth.
I returned to my seat.
The teacher nodded once.
"Sit."
The room recalibrated.
⸻
The Hostility
A girl leaned across the aisle toward me, voice sweet and sharp.
"So… A.R.C didn't want you anymore?"
I smiled without warmth.
"No. They just couldn't afford me."
A few gasps. A few laughs.
She leaned back, lips pressed tight.
Score noted.
⸻
Mustyy Breaks the Ice (Wrongly)
Mustyy raised his hand.
"Yes?" the teacher sighed.
"Sir," he said earnestly,
"Is it normal for everyone to look like they're planning my funeral?"
Laughter broke—short, nervous, real.
The tension cracked, just enough to breathe.
The teacher stared at him.
"…Sit down."
Mustyy obeyed.
Grinning.
⸻
Tahir Moves
Someone whispered from the window side. Behind Tahir
"He hasn't even said a word."
Tahir shifted.
Didn't turn.
Didn't speak.
He casually corrected a mistake the teacher made on the board—soft, precise.
The chalk paused mid-air.
The teacher reread his own work.
Then erased.
"…Correct," he said quietly.
The room went still.
No applause.
No reaction.
Just awareness.
Because whatever Tahir was—
He wasn't here to be loud.
He was here to control the room without asking permission.
And SS1 Alpha felt it.
And MiMie ?
MiMie already knows that this is just one of the many ways Tahir manipulates.
This is just the beginning of his mind games.