CHAPTER SIX
Returning to a small semblance of normalcy back on the Cursed side of Masquerade, Mr. Gentus finds himself sat comfortably at his desk, spinning his thoughts around carefully like mixing sugar into coffee. After all of the fighting and the curious surprise of Mason's Curse manifestation, Mr. Gentus finds himself wanting to pay Mason less attention. So, he slams his hand down onto the desk at the front of the room now, moving away from his sudden leap onto Mason's desk a moment ago.
KWAM
Heads reel backward, facing stage-front to Mr. Gentus. His hand shades slightly white from his hard slapping of the desktop, a paper or two is thrown away from the action.
"In the interest of actually learning something…"
He stops himself, letting his gnarled tone reach them with purpose.
"I'd like to see everyone's Thousand-word essay on this desk, tomorrow morning."
His long index finger taps the top of his desk coldly. Issuing an order like a commanding officer. A collective groan the likes of which you'd think came from the recently risen dead growls from the room. Mr. Gentus admittedly likes the sound of their torment.
"I want you each to write out your experiences with your manifestations, and how they both helped, pro, and hindered, con, your growth."
Mr. Gentus lends his voice to a soft tone, understanding that the pain of focusing solely on some of their manifestations will be a blow, but his class is going to be able to grow through this, he believes whole-heartedly.
Mason stands at the back of the room, loosening his grip on his katana. He lowers his sword, finishing shaving his unfortunate manifestation. The class returns to their seats with their shoulders lowered in defeat.
"Wait, wha-?"
Mason loosens his grips completely, shocked by the sudden declaration of their homework.
"Dammit!"
He shouts. The blaring horn of Mason's mouth reaches outside the grounds of Masquerade, and just then, a familiar sound hums.
Bing Beng Bong
"Oh-ughhh…"
Mason and the rest of the Cursed class agree in harmonious disinterest of the announcement of the exhibition. The class resets and starts to take down notes of their thousand-word essay. The day quickly comes to a close.
BRIRIRIRIRIRIIRIRIRIRIRIRIIRIRINGGGG
Mr. Gentus stands, staring down anyone who dares move too early from their class. Beads of sweat begin to form in the long silence. Mason is the first to move from his spot, which makes everyone else's heads race towards him.
SHIFFF
Everyone is stopped, looking at Mason. Ever the delinquent. He throws his sheathed katana over his shoulder, confidently turning towards their teacher.
"Feh."
He huffs, eyes closed wandering away from his desk now. Mason's smile curls up slowly.
"Mason..."
Sam moans in worry, scared of what might happen. He nervously gathers his pens and papers, piling them all into his book bag neatly, but quietly.
"Hmph. I can do a thousand."
Mason assures his friend, at the same time mocking Mr. Gentus, nodding his head slightly to him.
Mr. Gentus at the front of the class angers, his forehead growing a vein.
"Oh you can, can you?"
The usually composed teacher balls a fist, knuckles touching down on the desk as he stands up.
"You little-"
Mr. Gentus thinks to himself about the ungrateful boy- his action of homework was to distract away from his manifestation.
"I'd be surprised if you even knew one thousand words, Mr. Mason."
Mr. Gentus spits his words at the young man, unfurling his fist and spreading his fingers wide. Not exactly proud of mocking a teenager, but assured that it's what he wanted to do, Mr. Gentus keeps his eyes on Mason.
The same vein grows on Mason's forehead now.
"Oh, I'll show you a thousand words, Gentus!"
Mason takes the sheathed sword off his shoulder, pointing it at Mr. Gentus, spitting his name at him. Standing in between two rows of students, a straight line towards Mr. Gentus, Mason holds his sword out to him again.
"You'll show me TWO thousand!"
Mr. Gentus threatens Mason, cooly and still, standing behind his desk on one hip now, leaned jeeringly and settled.
"Cheh."
Mason grits his teeth and his lip curls up, angered.
"Masonnn..."
Sam says again, clearly worried about Mason's lack of work ethic, knowing his best friend might not be as capable as that.
"Whatever."
Mason walks out of the room, Sam gathers his bag speedily and looks at Mr. Gentus nervously with hopeful understanding. Mr. Gentus returns his look, nodding with the slightest at Sam. Shuffling out the door, Sam follows after Mason, quickly running to catch up.
"He's going to kill you, it seems like!"
Sam tugs at Mason's sleeve, breathlessly warning him and having to speak up as all of the other students on the floor are rushing around. The classes are out and the day is done. Lockers fling open and heavy books are shoved away. The sounds are numerous.
Mason ignores Sam through this, angry with him about the prank he played on him. Sam knows this too.
"Whatever, okay, I can take him."
Mason argues, barking back at Sam behind him. Mason pulls away from his tugged sleeve and strides forward down the hall.
"You can't!"
Sam closes his eyes and yells at his thickheaded friend. Mason turns on his heel, meeting back with him- face to face. Sam backs down, bending back to accommodate Mason's space.
"I just mean- I don't think you should keep trying to fight our teacher."
Sam doesn't meet Mason's burning stare.
"Best case scenario he kicks you out...and worst case…."
Sam shyly quiets now, choosing to err his words.
Mason huffs and pushes past Sam, walking back towards the direction of the class. His heavy stomps are matched with his riled speed.
"Dammit, Sam."
Continued in PART TWENTY-SIX…