Strings Attached

~Chapter 1~

"And if you say a thing more about it, I might just grope your neck and twist it a little to the side, so that your stupid brain lodges back into its original position, and you start thinking square!" To my utmost chagrin, this annoying little dork beside me begins to laugh real hard, and I pinch her ears till she yelps in pain. "Aah! Okay... okay. I won't say anything more, I promise," she surrenders weakly, rubbing her sore spot. "That's what you get for annoying the heck outta me."

The people around us are staring like we just turned into slimy flesh-eating ogres. Get a life, guys! We're not your prime time entertainment show, for god sake! I'm about to give them a piece of my mind when suddenly, Sir Matthews enters the room with a roll of papers in his hand, and everyone scrambles to get to their seats. 

We all stand up to greet him good morning. I don't know what exactly the use of that is, since this rude class teacher of ours never greets us back. A sharp "sit down, everyone" is all we get in return, and each one of us sits back down with a scowl on our faces. Mine and Samira's aren't visible, of course! *Insert a clip of frogs doing a happy dance, here*

After the roll call, he keeps standing near the teacher's table, not ready to move any time soon. What's he trying to achieve by throwing glares down at us poor creatures, I fail to understand. It's your cue to leave, man. Just go. Do you want a drumroll for that?

"As you all must be wondering why I am standing here, instead of Ms. Anita to give you your usual English lessons for the first period, let me just get to business," he says in a clipped tone. Does he think he's doing us a favor by gracing us with his worrying presence in the morning, when he doesn't even care to take his own class at the end of the day? If he does think so, then he's in for a good surprise, coz none of us find that a favor.

All the other class teachers are really nice to their students, except this baboon. He's not even exactly a Sir, because he hasn't got his approval from the Clerical Board yet. I don't think he's even entered a church, ever. People say he was involved in some heist long ago. No one has ever been able to dish out the real dirt on him, ever since long. And that's why, he's here, teaching us, still. As to why he is so rude to us, I really don't know the answer to that. He's got a thing, a bad one, for our class, I guess.

And oh, did I mention he's especially rude to me and my friend since we wear veils in class? Well, he is. He's called us all kinds of things, from terrorists to nincompoops, even when the Principal has given us special permission to allow us to cover our faces. He's got extreme hatred for me, since he became too offensive for my comfort one day when I was in class eleventh, and I went home crying and told my dad all about it. 

He was furious that day, and complained about the man's behavior to the Headmaster. Eventually, he was made to apologize to us. His job was in serious jeopardy that time, and that was when I realized I was in for some bad-mouthing for the rest of my time here, for I had earned myself an enemy.

But I don't think I am to be blamed. There's a limit to everything, and he went quite into overdrive about it. He can't dictate to us what to do, so he should keep his mouth shut over the said subject. Nobody else's got a problem with it. Also, it's a free country fella, so you better stick your ego down your throat, and live with it.

I'm exceptionally cynical today, ain't I? The after-effects of indulging in a classic combat with your sister in the morning, I guess.

"This is the list of students selected from this class to go for the exchange program and study abroad," the teacher continues to speak. Now this is news. I straighten up in my chair, hanging onto the teacher's every word with bated breath. "There are only five of you, so I would you rather stood up from your seats and collect your brochures from the front desk," he goes on at an exceedingly slow rate, to wreck our nerves with anticipation on purpose, I believe.