The morning sun filtered through the dusty windows of JSS 1A, casting long shadows across worn desks and hopeful faces. Yaw Boakye fidgeted with his frayed uniform sleeve, watching Mrs. Anane sort through the terminal results with deliberate slowness.

  "Did you study for the chemistry section?" Amara whispered from the desk behind him. "I think I messed up the organic compounds part."

  "Shh," Yaw replied, managing a small smile. "You always say that, and then you end up in the top five."

  "Not this time," she groaned. "I saw Kwame's father hired him three private tutors."

  From across the room, Kwame adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, shooting them a contemptuous look. "Some of us actually deserve to be here," he said loudly enough for nearby students to hear. "Unlike certain... scholarship cases."

  "Ignore him," Amara muttered. "He's just mad because you beat him in the mock exams."

  Mrs. Anane cleared her throat, silencing the classroom chatter. "Before I announce the results," she began, adjusting her glasses, "I want to remind everyone that these rankings determine more than just academic standing. They reflect character, dedication, and—"

  Stolen story; please report.

  "And whose parents donate the most to the school?" someone whispered, triggering scattered giggles.

  "Enough!" Mrs. Anane's voice cracked like a whip. "Now, starting from tenth place..."

  Yaw's heart hammered as each name was called. His palms grew sweaty, remembering the countless nights he'd studied by candlelight after his evening deliveries, the textbooks borrowed from the library because he couldn't afford his own.

  "Third place," Mrs. Anane continued, "Gloria Mensah."

  Gloria stood, beaming. Her new uniform gleamed under the fluorescent lights.

  "Second place... Kwame Adinkra."

  Kwame rose slowly, his face darkening. "Second?" he repeated, as if the word tasted bitter.

  "And in first place..." Mrs. Anane paused, a slight smile playing at her lips. "Yaw Boakye!"

  The silence that followed felt heavier than any noise. Then Amara's chair scraped back as she jumped up, clapping. "I knew it! I knew you could do it!"

  "This has to be a mistake," Kwame's voice cut through the growing murmurs. "My father will hear about this. How can an errand boy—"

  "Mr. Adinkra," Mrs. Anane interrupted sharply, "would you like to examine the marking scheme? I assure you, every test was graded fairly."

  Yaw rose slowly, his legs trembling slightly. As he walked toward the front of the class, whispers followed like shadows.

  "Did he cheat?" "No way a poor kid could—" "I heard he stays up all night studying—" "But still, first place?"

  Mrs. Anane held out the report card, pride evident in her eyes. "Exceptional work, Yaw. Especially in advanced mathematics and—"

  The classroom door burst open.