The substitute teacher

One by one, the students began entering the classroom, still scattered, backpacks slung over their shoulders, murmuring idle hallway conversations. But as their eyes settled on the figure standing at the front of the room, their expressions changed — confusion, surprise, hushed whispers.

Everyone had been told that Professor Hopkins was returning to teach after several months in a coma, caused by a bizarre accident in the science lab. The school had released a brief notice about his recovery and return. But no one had expected this. No one expected... her.

Standing by the board was a striking woman — youthful, confident, and composed. She wore a tight black mini skirt and a sleeveless crop top that revealed her navel — and, in a way, her authority. The outfit wasn’t exactly traditional for a science teacher, but the way she held herself demanded attention.

The chatter only stopped when she raised a hand with calm control and began to speak in a voice that was soft but firm.

— “Good morning, class. I imagine most of you are surprised — and rightfully so. Some of you may have been informed that I, Professor Hopkins, was absent due to an accident during a lab experiment. I was in a coma for several months. And yes… I’m back.”

A heavy silence followed, thick with disbelief. Eyes darted from one student to another, as if trying to confirm whether this was a prank, a substitute teacher with an eccentric streak, or something else entirely.

Then Dylan, the most outspoken student in the back — the one who always said out loud what others whispered — raised his hand and said:

— “Uhh… I think there’s a mix-up. This is Hopkins’ class. Are you like... a substitute who was also on leave or something?”

She crossed her arms, meeting Dylan’s gaze without hesitation, though a faint smile tugged at her lips.

— “No, Dylan. I am Mr. Hopkins. I thought the school had already informed you of what happened after the accident. That’s why I got straight to the point — I assumed you were all aware.”

The room erupted into murmurs and wide-eyed stares. She raised her hand again, asking for calm.

— “Let me explain. In the first days after the accident, my body reacted in… unusual ways. My skin became hypersensitive. I had to be completely wrapped in medical bandages. The pain was unbearable. The doctors sedated me for weeks. And when I finally started to wake up, the changes… were already happening.”

Now, even the most distracted students were completely absorbed, eyes wide in disbelief.

— “Each time the dressings were changed, the doctors noticed more and more regeneration. Not just healing — transformation. My skin, my features… everything was evolving. They couldn’t explain it. By the time I was discharged, I already looked like this.”

Dylan raised his hand again, though his voice was more cautious this time.

— “And you… just accepted it?”

She drew a slow breath, scanning the classroom, as if weighing each word.

— “It wasn’t easy. The first time I saw myself in the mirror, I barely recognized who I was. I questioned everything — identity, future, purpose. But the medical tests were perfect. No complications, no pain. On the contrary: I feel more alive, more energetic, clearer. The outside changed… but inside, I’m still me. The same Hopkins. Just… renewed.”

But even as she spoke, she was leaving out certain truths. Like the strange sense of freedom that grew each passing day. Or the quiet thrill she felt when eyes lingered on her. The choice of outfit hadn’t been random — not the short skirt, not the revealing top. Maybe it was an unconscious psychological experiment. Or maybe just a new way to express herself after such an irreversible transformation.

Either way, one thing was certain: science class had never been this captivating. The boys were practically hypnotized, and most of the girls exchanged glances of bewilderment — some edged with envy. Hopkins was back. But no one — not even she — could have imagined how much everything was about to change.