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4

I stopped in front of the door to the biology lab, catching my breath after climbing six flights of stairs in thirty seconds. And also taking a deep breath to last a few minutes with that ignorant Cassano.

"What are you stalling for, Velarde?", I heard that annoyingly stuck-up voice ask, just as I let out my last defeated breath "I don't know about you, but I don't have all day."

I won't even mention how many different ways and words I mentally cursed at him before I rudely turned the knob and entered the room. I sat down on the stool furthest away from him and put my kit on the counter, without even looking at the worm sprawled on his chair. Rolling over to get my pen from inside the case, all so I wouldn't have to face him, I couldn't help but notice a ridiculous little smile on his face.

"Did you study?" that disgusting voice asked, thinking he was the man as always. As if I needed it, and as if I had time to study in forty minutes.

"I don't know about you, but I don't have all day," I replied, rude, still not facing him.

With no answer, obviously, and looking like a noodle without sauce, he got up and came towards me with the proof in his hands. He stopped right behind me and put his arms on the counter, one on each side of my body.

"You must really think I don't like you."

I ignored that unnecessary sentence, shrinking down to reduce the proximity between us, and pulled the exam out from under his hand. I started to fill in the heading, and before I could do anything, I felt his warm breath very close to my ear.

"And that makes me more and more fissured in you."

I stopped writing, and a wave of fear came over me. I opened my mouth to say a few good things to him, but was stopped by his arm, which immediately wrapped tightly around my waist and increased my panic.

"Let me go!" I exclaimed, and without thinking, I shoved my fine-tipped pen into his arm. Just then, he let out a heavy breath, trying not to scream in pain, and walked away. I grabbed my kit in desperation, and the last thing I saw before I left the lab, my legs shaking with dread, was him pulling out the pen that was stuck in his arm.

"Good morning, class," Professor Keaton said as she came into the room, and as she walked through the door she gave the group of athletes in the class a good look, and they returned her gaze in the same way. Ms. Keaton was our English teacher, well known in the school for her great teaching method and for her successful extracurricular activities. Activities that included, of course, fooling around with students. It must not have been easy to put up with all that fresh testosterone teasing her at the height of her 25 years. Blonde, tall, and envied from head to toe, she looked like a model, and according to the gossip, a certain professor was in love with her.

That's him. Steve Suan. I don't even feel like flying at her when I see the two of them talking in the hallways, you know.

Back to the facts, Ms. Keaton soon started to write the subject, and as I was a bit slow to copy, I started to write. After fifteen minutes and a blackboard full of material, the teacher sat in her chair and from there she watched the muscular idiots who sat at the back and laughed about some nonsense that one of them had said. About soccer, of course, because it was the only subject they understood anything about to the point of laughing at some joke about it.

I particularly didn't see anything special in this Miss Keaton. As much as she was beautiful and apparently nice, something about her bothered me. Apart from the fact that she could have Mr. Suan kneeling at her feet whenever she wanted. I don't know, my saint didn't quite match hers, I guess that was it.

"Excuse me, Keaton," I heard a familiar voice speak from the doorway, and when I raised my gaze from the sheet, I found myself facing the last teacher I wanted to see.

"Come in, Cassano," she smiled, all gentle, and he quickly walked over to her, facing the class.

"I have an errand to run. "The students who are catching up in lab biology will take the test in the last class today. Look for Professor Turner and take the test in the class where he is.

When I looked at the blackboard, trying to continue copying without paying attention to anyone around me, I noticed that everyone was looking at me. I cast annoyed glances to the side, and stared at Professor Cassano, who returned my glance in an angry way. His white shirt, half-tucked to his body, distracted me for a few milliseconds, until I hit my eyes on his forearm. There was a bandage on it, right where I had bruised it with the pen yesterday. I made that legitimate 'fuck you' face, and started waving a pen between my fingers, in a clear sign that if he was up to something, I still had several fine-tipped pens to stick wherever I wanted.

Getting the message, he quickly left the class, thanking Ms. Keaton. I held back a hearty laugh and continued copying, with an evil grin on my face. Fine point pens were great allies in the fight against unpleasant teachers, hint hint.

That day I took the make-up exam in Turner's class, our history teacher, without any problems. Since his class was on the fifth floor, I decided to call the elevator to go downstairs and leave. You can call me sedentary, I'll let you. As soon as the elevator arrived and the door opened, I was faced with the most confusing scene of my day. Mr. Suan was talking and laughing animatedly with Professor Cassano inside the elevator, and as soon as they saw me, they stopped talking. Each one had a different reaction: Mr. Suan smiled, looking happy to see me; Cassano lowered his gaze angrily to the floor and then stared at his watch, pretending to be interested in it.

"Good morning, Velarde," Professor Suan greeted, and if it weren't for that smile of his, I wouldn't have entered that elevator. It is kind of dangerous to enter a cubicle with a professor who loves you and another one who hates you, even more so when you don't have a camera filming everything.

"Good morning, professor," I smiled, a little nervously, stopping between them and noticing that there were two illuminated buttons on the panel, one indicating the seventh floor and the other indicating the first floor. I don't think I have ever cheered so hard to be alone with Mr. Suan, and I can't believe that I have overcome all the times I have wished for this. Now that I was already inside, I had to wait to see who would accompany me to the first floor. And maybe endure a few seconds of being less than a meter away from a certain idiot professor during the ride.

The elevator went up, and when the doors opened on the seventh floor, I almost grabbed his arm when Mr. Suan took a step towards the door. And just to make it better, there was no one waiting to come in and save me from this martyrdom.

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