2 tension (2)

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As expected, I arrived at school in record time and yes, I made good on my promise to pay Mr. Callesa extra, which he'd accepted with a huge smile, then he'd driven off into oblivion after a snappy salute which made me laugh a little.

And by the way, I changed my mind about the statue thing. I figured, since I was the only one who benefitted from his heroism, maybe building him one would be a little too over-the-top. Maybe next time, when he figured out how to make his Grab car fly so we can avoid the city traffic altogether.

That would indeed be statue-worthy and he would be everyone's hero, not just mine.

Anyway.

It had been thirty minutes since the class started, and I could say that Mr. Belarmy came to school today expecting me to be tardy again because the moment he entered the door, his eyes automatically went to my seat, obviously to confirm his suspicions and then gloat about it later if he was right. The way his eyes widened in surprise (shock, really) when he saw me there instead was totally worth the money I paid for that Grab ride so I could get here earlier to see that. In my head, I was like,

In yo face, Derek! In yo face!

But of course, I couldn't literally say that to his face (otherwise, hello, detention!) so I just beamed at him and sat there like an angelic student, ready for whatever lesson he had to teach us today. The man visibly shrugged (hopefully that meant he was now dismissing any negative thoughts he's ever had towards me) and walked over to his table to prepare his material. After booting his laptop and checking the slides, he turned the projector on, and so the class began.

Now I was trying to listen attentively as he continued with his introduction on Basic Physics but I was failing miserably because my classmates just couldn't seem to keep still in their places, especially the girls, and I was unfortunately distracted.

Actually, I've been noticing the disturbances around me for some time now, but until a few seconds ago, the barely-contained excitement in the room had been manageable. I was able to ignore it earlier, but now...not so much. I could feel it creeping in the air, like a zap of electricity permeating your senses, like when you knew a storm was coming and there was nothing you could do to stop it or make it go away, so you just wait in the calm and keep still. Because it was inevitable.

Honestly, that's how it felt like right now with all this subdued tension in the room. Like a storm was coming.

They were lucky Mr. Belarmy was so engrossed in his introductory speech or else, he would be giving them hell when he realized half of the class wasn't really listening.

What was with all the fuss?

Not able to contain my curiosity anymore, I scooted closer to Margareth, my seatmate and one of my best friends, and asked under my breath, "What on earth is going on?"

"H-huh?"

I almost rolled my eyes at her very bright response but stopped myself and tried again. "Why is everyone so jittery? What's happening?"

It took her five seconds to reply in the same whispering manner. "Oh. They're just excited. Transferee is coming today. It's in the groupchat."

My brow furrowed at that. Whut? A transferee? That was definitely not the answer I was expecting.

"From which school?"

"Not from another school, silly. From the other section."

"Double what?!" I almost jumped in shock, my eyes bulging from their sockets. Did I just hear her right? Someone from Section-A was transferring? To our section?! "W-who? Why?!"

And why don't I know about this?!

Marga tched then, quick as lightning, her hand reached into the space under my desk and just as quickly, she withdrew it and placed it calmly on the table-top as if nothing happened. "Just backread, Clarey, and stop asking questions!"

Curiously but covertly, I looked at what she put in there and saw her phone, which was opened to our section's groupchat. Surprise, surprise, almost the whole class was online and chatting actively about something. So this was what everyone's been so busy about.

Gossiping excitedly and exchanging updates about this certain 'transferee'.

The last five balloons I was able to catch all had heart emojis in them but before I could read what the texts said, new messages started popping up again, and the exchange was just too fast I couldn't keep up so instead of being informed and getting useful details, I just grew more and more annoyed at the participation these people were putting into this nonsense instead of paying attention to the lesson being discussed in front.

I wondered, what would happen if I told Mr. Belarmy about this mutiny?

But before I could ponder further on the pros and cons of that, Mr. Belarmy's laptop slamming shut echoed across the room and suddenly, everyone went still as a statue.

Uh-oh.

"So class," he began slowly, turning off the projector and placing his device back in its bag. He took his time erasing the writings on the white board and cleaning the teacher's table, and it could have just been my imagination but I thought I heard the whole room swallow one, big, nervous gulp. "You don't seem to be interested in the lesson anymore, so I'm going to stop here for today."

A tensed hush fell across the room. Then he faced us with that signature impassive face of his.

"However, for the remaining fifteen minutes, I want you to write down on a piece of yellow paper, five paragraphs telling me why I shouldn't give a long exam on the whole Introduction chapter tomorrow."

Low murmurs of disbelief erupted just then. Beside me, Margareth pretended to bang her head on the wall beside her like a lunatic.

"Stop that," I hissed at her, scowling. "You're gonna hurt yourself!"

"Girrrrrl, I didn't bring any paperrrrr," she whined but eventually stopped with the head-banging, to my relief. Her wide, green eyes, which were laced with panic, locked on me. "And I didn't bring any pens! What am I gonna do?!"

I shot her a WTF look (what was she even doing in school?!) but said reassuringly, "I have a whole pad of paper, don't worry. And you can also borrow one of my five extra pens. You're welcome."

She didn't seem to be grateful, though.

"Whaaat? Why the hell are you so ready for school work, Clarey? It's only the second day of school, for goodness' sake! Who wants to write five paragraphs of whatever on the second day of school?! It's not right! It's not fair!"

Yup, it wasn't fair, as what the rest of the class was complaining about based on the smidges of conversations I could overhear.

But who ever said life was fair?

"Marga, it's called 'school work' because we're at school, and we're at school to learn things through school work, okay? Regardless if it's the first day or last day. Anyways, this one's not even hard. You just have to explain why there shouldn't be an exam tomorrow and there's, like, a million reasons why we shouldn't have an exam tomorrow so five paragraphs would be a piece of cake. It will be a no-brainer, trust me."

But I might have spoken too soon, because Mr. Belarmy wasn't done yet. He cleared his throat to silence everyone then heartlessly continued, "As for your homework," complaining sounds erupted again but he blatantly ignored it this time, "write an essay about what you understood from my discussions today. Plus points if you can quote some of the principles I mentioned verbatim, and no, they're not found in your textbooks. Also, minus points for every sentence that doesn't have anything to do with the lessons I was able to tackle. Are we clear?"

It was painfully silent for five whole seconds, but in the end, we grudgingly answered, "Yes, Mr. Belarmy," even though, looking at the miserable expressions on all my classmates' faces, saying 'yes' to him was the last thing from their minds.

"Alright, you may start now."

Unfortunately, we didn't have any choice but to follow his command.

As what our Seniors had previously warned us about this teacher, there was no point in arguing or questioning his authority to make our lives a living hell; there was no changing his mind and if you even tried to speak up or complain about his assigments, he would just go right ahead and give you more difficult tasks to do, enough to make you regret ever becoming a junior high school student in Stoneville National High School.

So if we wanted to graduate, we needed to learn how to survive his advisory class for the next nine months or we're screwed.

Is it too late to transfer somewhere else?

"What were you saying again about 'school work', Clare?" Marga asked smugly and I just made a face while handing her the promised pen and paper.

Fine, I take back everything I said and agree completely that it was still way too early to be giving school work. Gahd, why was making life choices so hard sometimes?

About five more classmates, smiling sheepishly at me, also asked for one sheet each when they saw I had a whole pad to spare. Of course, I always believed in being generous to the needy so I easily handed them the papers, but not without wondering, Why do some people go to school without paper or pen? Do they think it falls down from the sky for free when they need it?

I shook my head in discouragement and began working on the darned five-paragraph worth of reasons (more like "excuses"). But I only just finished writing my full name and the first five words that came to mind when Mr. Belarmy spoke again.

"Oh, before I forget."

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