Chapter 2: Chapter 2
I entered the bustling philosophy classroom and quietly claimed my regular spot at the back. As I settled in, I pulled my hood up, hoping to disappear into the background while the lively discussions buzzed around me. Students chatted merrily, brandishing their designer outfits and tapping away on their shiny new iPhones.
Flashback
"Mom, I've been thinking," I began hesitantly, my thumb tracing patterns on our cluttered kitchen table. "For my graduation, could I possibly get a cell phone?" At 17, not having a phone made me feel like an outcast, but i never hoped for a positive response whenever i asked for one.
"I'm sorry, dear, but we simply can't afford a phone. It would only add more bills to the pile of bills to be paid," my mother replied, as tear filed her swollen eyes as she excused herself from the room.
With a tired sigh, I hung my backpack over my shoulder and embarked on my normal four-mile trek to school. I made a quick stop at the library to print out an assignment.
Inside the library, I exchanged greetings with Harry, the friendly owner. When I was just 14, he caught me trying to borrow a book without a library card, emphasis on 'borrow'. However, after realizing that my textbook was used in one of his wife's courses, he had a change of heart. From that day on, he allowed me to borrow any book I wanted for free. Previously, when I wanted to read, I'd spend hours at Barnes and Noble, leaving the book behind with hopes of seeing it again the next day.
"Hello, Harry!" I greeted him with a warm smile.
"Hello, Rana! What book are you looking for today?" he asked, returning my smile.
"I'll probably need more information systems books. I've finished the last one," I said shyly, holding up the completed textbook. My love for reading about computer programming, information systems, philosophy, mathematics, physics, languages, chemistry, and, above all, coding and hacking knew no bounds.
After a brief chat with Harry and an inquiry about his wife's well-being, I headed over to the computers. A curious thought led me to explore the AT&T website, where I frowned at the price tags, aware they were far beyond our financial reach.
"Hi, Rana, here's another system integration book for you. My wife highly recommends this one," Harry chimed in, placing the book on the table beside me. I expressed my gratitude, and as he left, I gazed at the cover, pondering the possibility of acquiring a phone without imposing additional hardships on my family.
Nervously glancing around, I returned to the AT&T website and decided to venture into hacking their database. Surprisingly, it was less challenging than I had anticipated, and I effortlessly bypassed their security systems. I set up an account, making it appear "PAID IN FULL" for the next three years. I then ordered the most affordable phone, marking it as paid as well, with delivery scheduled to the library to avoid raising suspicions at home. It remained the very same phone I use to this day.
***
A subtle vibration in my pocket brought my attention back to the present. I retrieved my outdated flip phone, and Dr. Chet's name lit up the screen. Anxious and eager for news, I answered the call.
"Hello, Dr. Chet, what's the update?" I inquired.
"Good morning, Rana. It appears your mother's condition has worsened, she—" Before he could finish his sentence, Mrs. Jamison, my philosophy teacher, seized my phone from my hand.
I gazed up at her in utter shock as she disconnected the call I had been anxiously awaiting all week.
Internally, I weighed the consequences of smashing her head against the table, unconscious or not. Either option was appealing at that moment.
"Miss Simmons!" She bellowed.
"What?" I growled.
"Did you not hear me"?
I've been calling you," she said in her annoying voice, causing my ears to ache. "Of course, I had no interest in replying to you," I responded with my arms crossed and i leaned back in my chair.
"Oops," she mumbled, releasing my phone, which shattered upon landing on the tiles. "Oh, how silly of me," she said with a smirk while my classmates started laughing. I clenched my fists, digging my nails into my skin until I felt blood on my wrist.
"Now that I have your full attention, could you please share your views on determinism, Miss Simmons?" she requested as she walked to the front of the class, her heel inadvertently kicking a piece of my shattered phone.
"Determinism versus free will is one of philosophy's most renowned debates," I began with a sardonic smile. "It questions whether our life choices shape our destiny, or if it's all predetermined. Take you, for instance."
"Are you referring to me?" the teacher asked, turning to face me with confusion written all over her face.
"You found yourself old and unattractive, do you believe your life choices led to the sad and unfulfilling life you're living right now? were you cursed to never find someone that actually loves and care for you? I'm sure you imagined a different life than the one you have now. So, according to determinism, your choices, words, attire, and makeup can't hide the fact that you're destined to have an unfulfilled life, spending your days in misery." I said coldly, causing the class to fall into silence.
It was already obvious I hit a nerve. She gazed at me with tears threating to fall from her eyes. For a moment, I regretted crossing that line, but as I looked down at my shattered phone, those feelings disappeared immediately.
"Get out of my class, Rana Simmons, and go see the dean. NOW!"
"Get out!!" she exclaimed, pointing to the door. I grabbed my backpack and exited the room, laughing to myself as I headed to Dean O'Connor's office for the third time that week.
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone