He was completely serious. The following day, Lucas arrived at school as if nothing had happened. He parked his sleek Audi—a recent birthday present—in the faculty lot and strode through the halls with the air of a runway model.
Some students watched him with open jealousy, others with visible disgust. But one pair of eyes held his gaze. Hers.
An older Black woman, perhaps in her fifties, was meticulously mopping the floor near the side entrance. Her posture was straight and dignified, her gaze quiet yet perceptive. Her uniform was worn, but her presence commanded respect. Lucas, of course, didn’t register her.
In his world, she was part of the background. Just the janitor. Ambient noise.
But the pressure from school started to mount. More tests. More grades that screamed failure. And then, the final blow. His father cancelled his credit cards, confiscated the car, and forced him to ride the school bus with everyone else. It was on one of those bitter mornings that he passed the janitor in the hall.
For the very first time, he noticed she was whispering to herself as she worked. “The only true wisdom is in knowing you know nothing.” Lucas froze.
“What did you just say?” She looked up at him. Her face was calm. There was no trace of fear. “Nothing you’re ready to understand, boy.” He let out a small, sharp laugh, but something about her words… It stung. She turned and went back to her work as if he weren’t there.
But Lucas… he couldn’t get her out of his head. Lucas trudged up the school steps, his hands jammed deep into his jacket pockets. The entire world felt different.
Colder. Smaller. The smug confidence that used to propel him through the hallways had evaporated. Now, he just walked quickly. He kept his head down. He tried to ignore the weight of the stairs under his feet.
That morning, his literature test had been returned. It was in a plain white envelope, folded in half, signaling a cold finality. He opened it, bracing for the usual. Perhaps a D-minus. Maybe another grade given out of pity. Grade: 18/100. A question was scrawled in red at the bottom: Did you even read the passage? Lucas stared at the paper.
He blinked. A short, nervous laugh escaped him. He glanced around. No one else was laughing. More results trickled in that week. Math? 24%. History? 31%. Biology? A perfect zero.
This wasn’t funny anymore. The school counselor summoned him again. This time, her tone was not gentle. “Lucas, you are academically at risk. I’m not talking about behavior. I mean you are failing. Statistically, you are at the very bottom of the entire senior class.” “It’s temporary,” he shrugged. “I’ll hire a tutor.”
“You already had three. They all quit.” That silenced him. Later, as he left her office, he used the back entrance to avoid seeing anyone. And there she was again. The janitor. She was on her knees, scrubbing a soda spill near the cafeteria.
She saw him approach. She offered a polite smile. He stopped. “You. You said something last time. About Socrates.”..
