Chapter 2My Female Teacher Bullied Me Because My Grades Exceeded Her Favorite Student's

Rumours about Mrs. White began to spread throughout the school.

She tried to change her appearance, dressing in plain, casual clothes and swapping her stilettos for flats.

It seemed like she was attempting to repair her image.

But, of course, the rumours only grew.

"Mrs. White’s not wearing heels anymore. Do you reckon she’s pregnant?"

"Definitely. My mum wore flats and loose clothes when she was pregnant with my brother."

"So, who do you reckon the father is?"

"Do you even need to ask?"

The students whispered and laughed, filling the corridors with gossip.

Mrs. White clearly heard them, as she yelled for everyone to be quiet, dragging the group of whisperers outside for a telling-off. You could hear her scolding them down the whole corridor.

The next day, she returned to her usual attire, as if to prove she wasn’t pregnant.

But it was useless.

Mrs. White no longer called Max into her office as often. Instead, she frequently summoned me.

"Clean the office, Olivia."

"Take this pile of books to Mrs. Thompson’s office."

"Get me some water."

She treated me like a servant. Worse still, she always made me do these tasks during lessons.

At St. Edmund’s, we had weekly quizzes for every subject, and the form tutor invigilated.

Mrs. White waved my quiz results in the air as she stood at the front of the class.

"Some students keep visiting the teacher’s office, but instead of improving, their grades are slipping."

Then she held up Max Turner’s paper alongside another student’s.

"Look at these students who don’t spend their time in the office. As long as they want to learn, they’ll make progress."

"But some students like to pull stunts to get the teacher’s attention. And after all that attention, they still let the teacher down, even turning on them. It breaks my heart!"

It was a clever move. I couldn’t attend lessons properly, which meant I couldn’t keep up. Naturally, my grades started slipping.

But, of course, no one else knew that she was pulling me out of class to do her errands.

Just then, Mrs. Holy Thompson, the head of discipline, walked past our classroom.

Seeing me standing, she asked, "What’s going on here, Margaret?"

Mrs. White let out a dramatic sigh, "Well, Olivia’s grades were improving, but now they’re dropping again. I’m worried about her."

Mrs. Thompson took a look at my quiz paper and frowned. "Olivia, this isn’t good enough."

She handed me some extra revision papers. "Come to my office after class. I’ve got a set of past papers for you. Make sure to copy them and share them with the class. It’ll be good practice for everyone."

I nodded. "Thank you, Mrs. Thompson."

Mrs. Thompson was a well-respected teacher in her fifties. Even the headmaster deferred to her.

She smiled and left, leaving Mrs. White fuming.

"Well, thank Olivia, everyone. Without her, where would we get these past papers?"

Mrs. White’s voice was dripping with sarcasm.

But the class wasn’t having any of it. They sincerely shouted, "Thanks, Olivia!"

I pressed my lips together and gave a small bow. "Sorry for holding the class back."