XXIV

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George



"Bye, Clarkson!" I wave goodbye at him.


He stops at my front door and gives me a serious look.


"W-why?" I look at him to meet his gray gaze.


"You and... Mister Greyson are that close," he speaks.


"Oh," I bit my lips before continuing my sentence. "It's probably because we started as neighbors, not professors and students," I explain.


He nods and turns his back.


"B-bye!" I yell.


He waves goodbye and rides on his white motorcycle.


"We're not close," I mutter.


I close the door and stare at the pile of papers Jared's hands over.


Sigh.


I see some writings on my classmates' output.


'Your straight lines aren't straight lines.'


'.__.'


'Focus on your curve lines.'


'You call these lines?'


My eyebrows furrow after reading his blunt comments.


I immediately search for my paper to check how harsh his comment would be.


'Nice.'


That's what I see.


I don't know why, but I feel very happy with that one-word comment by him.


"Maybe that's sarcasm—"


I pause after seeing a reply to my question that I almost forgot.


'Why are you here?'


'I'm looking for the lost wolf.' He wrote in neat handwriting.


"I'm looking for a lost wolf," I whisper as I hand the papers that Jared ask me to return.


"Bianca," I say as I look around.


"Here," Bianca.


'You could've practice drawing than doing that winged eyeliner.' I read Jared's comment on her paper.

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