CHAPTER TEN
Mason is stuck into his desk, broken through the top wood of his workspace by his forehead alone. Chips of wood break off and enter into his skin by sheer force. Mason leans forward and back to keep throwing his head into the pieces out of sheer frustration.
Mr. Gentus finishes reading his 5,000 word essay to the class, a punishment for using someone else's work and handing it in as such. Mr. Gentus spent the last bit of time elongating the ridiculousness of the idea of Mason writing such a finely done homework assignment. Particularly picking apart the idea that Mason could use words bigger than four syllables. Mr. Gentus puts the essay down on his desk, pleased at Mason's torture.
"Dammit Gentus, just move on with the day!"
Mason finally speaks out, standing and throwing his fist into his desk. Mason crunches into the desk's metal bars underneath the desktop.
"Ooh, Mason, What's the problem? We're only congratulating you on your efforts."
Mr. Gentus wraps his long fingers around his chin, closing his eyes in thoughtful peace.
Mason tightens his fist, raising the other up to his katana. Sam notices this and finally moves, reaching for his hand with both of his own, cupping them around them.
"Mas, I'm sorry. You can't keep fighting our teacher!"
Sam shouts beside him, alerting him to the absurdity of it.
Mason steals his hand away with force, still mad with Sam for causing this entire situation. Sam slipped his own 5,000 word essay that he wrote for Mason into his bag earlier in the morning, leading Mason to look as if he made his friend do it for him. Sam backs down.
"And…"
Mr. Gentus continues, releasing his chin and flourishing his hand out above the class, standing with both arms extended now.
"I think I want to congratulate you all, in fact. For this job well done,"
He holds his breath, building the suspense of what he wants to do with them.
The class shares in wondering looks, growing in anticipation. The group of students all think at once of the many possibilities.
"Let us go home early!"
"Pizza!"
"Fight me!"
Mason's thoughts scream louder than all, glaring through Gentus' skull with flaming eyes. Mr. Gentus seems to pick out his thoughts alone and smiles at him. He opens his eyes and meets with Mason's glare with his own alight gaze. Mr. Gentus cracks a smile across his maligned lips.
"For this job well done…"
He continues and repeats, holding again for a shorter time.
"We're going to play…"
His smile finally breaks into laughter, a cackling, and infectious howl. The class knows exactly how excited to be and start to heat the space with their rising Cursed energy. Mr. Gentus stands tall above the mass, all of the students standing in shoved fists and pumped shoulders. The class readies for their first battle practice outside of training.
In training, the classes will take to the larger building across the campus and work solely on themselves, training their abilities or suppressing their manifestations.
Typically, battle scenarios are only held once a year for every class, near the end of the year to show off their progress and to be graded on capability for advancement. The reason for this is because the numbers of Blights and Faiths come into play for their overall ratings- making it unnecessary for faculty to test how powerful a student will be against another student when they'd only be expected to face off against the creatures.
Some on the council find this to be ridiculous.
Mr. Gentus heard about this rule when he arrived and was given a slip that would allow him to ask for permission outside of it- deciding quickly to ignore that, Mr. Gentus is going to bring his students to the colosseum behind the school and fight anyways. Damn the rules.
"I can tell you're all in agreement then, so let's say 2 minutes and you guys grab all your equipment. Come back to this room before leaving,"
Mr. Gentus releases the rowdy children off into the small halls of the Cursed building. Pouring out of the room like a torrent, the student's race to their lockers.
Mason and Sam sit in the class alone, Mr. Gentus leaving to secure something of his own.
Sam nervously twiddles his thumbs some more, looking near breaking them.
"Dammit, Sam, stop that. Looks gross."
Mason speaks up first, turning his head away from Sam's twisted fingers.
"S-Sorry…"
Sam means for the essay, but also stops his fiddling. Sam looks away now too, too shy to think of another thing to say. The air filling his lungs feels heavier now.
"It's... okay."
Mason means the essay too. He turns back and looks at Sam's pathetic whimpering. Kicking from under his desk, Mason reaches to Sam's leg and shoves his foot into his knee.
"You were just being a good friend."
Mason acknowledges him, pulling his kick back. Sam turns to face him now, wincing at the kick. Sam slowly and weakly smiles, still ashamed of forcing Mason to go through Mr. Gentus' torturous read.
"It's Gentus that deserves a swift kick…"
Mason pulls his legs in, preparing to fight him again. Sam looks at Mason and knows he means to actually do it too. Sam's smile widens and he chuckles.
"What?"
Mason looks at him, breaking his fixed distant gaze.
"Nothing. I guess I just shouldn't be surprised this year…"
Sam looks forward now too, pulling his bag up onto the desk. Mason watches in silence. Keeping his eye on his bag, Mason has to wonder,
"What did you figure out, Sam…"
Mason thinks back to the previous year, a week or two after they met one another in the courtyard of Masquerade.
Continued in PART FORTY…