There are words that you've said years ago in a seemingly harmless, forgettable circumstance that you anyway remember forever. Words like "You are being deliberate" that were directed to your arguably manipulative instructor who would ask you to repeat what you've said not because he hadn't heard you the first time but just because you'd sound amusingly gullible when you've succumbed to such trick he's set up.
But I really had uttered my thoughts aloud even before I could stop myself, and I had to bite the inside of my cheek at that, with the decency to feel horrified despite the secret satisfaction that boiled at the pit of my stomach.
"You are being deliberate"? What the hell brought that on?
Yet another mind-numbing seatwork, of course. It wasn't exactly the most flattering remark but it had been the most basic truth.
If it was a little consolation to myself, everybody was sure to be thinking the same thing as they scribbled/stabbed on the harassed yellow paper before them. I'd be lucky if Sir Dan would even give my paper a second look and one point. I had been the second person to submit her answered (but not necessarily correct) puzzle. He'd probably award Richard, the first to stand up from his spot, two points for thinking he got the seatwork half-right.
I sauntered to the door, decidedly set on avoiding the impending question. But I also just had to look over my shoulder.
"Huh?"
That priceless baffled expression on the professor didn't suit him at all, a stark contrast to the almost-smirk he was prone to wear in most days. Since the start of the second semester of our junior year, I had been used to seeing that grin that resembled a Cheshire cat's.
Though I had sworn that I wouldn't say that out loud as well, I found myself telling him that a couple of minutes later to dodge having to elaborate my earlier uncalled-for outburst, when the bell had already screamed in my right ear and my feet were carelessly dangling two feet above the floor.
It was just reasonable that anybody should think it was inappropriate for any normal female to sit on the ledge that way in spite of her A-line skirt. But Sir Dan wasn't one to reprimand this particular female because he liked the unconventional, and he liked hanging around the bespectacled, sharp-tongued, more-tactless-than-honest-but-anyway-clever girl who liked her backpack red and functional.
And today was just one of those days where I would wonder why this rather intelligent man chose to speak to this lowly being such as myself.
I gracelessly made a jump from where I sat just like how any frustrated acrobat would.
By then I was sure everybody within the four walls of room C501 heard my unwarranted opinion of our happy-scented professor, however it was comforting that I wasn't at all bothered by the fact now than the first few seconds the statement left my mouth. That had been the start of my uncaring demeanor about anything that involved this man. Well, at least of what other people thought about these unlikely pair who must be hanging around together more often than they should.
It's not like we have any other options to kill time anyway, I reasoned with a mental shrug.
"How am I a Cheshire cat?"
He was unusually inquisitive today, and though I was normally polite and would have easily offered an explanation, I wasn't in the mood to be indulging.
Sir Dan's oriental eyes looked rather rounder before my own and I mutely blinked a few times until I realized my actions. It was certainly rude of me to stare, and I blamed his intoxicating scent for numbing my linguistic capabilities.
The sparkling yellow soda in the clear plastic cup that sat on the tabletop reflected the cheery mid-morning.
It seemed like I was falling into a trap that I couldn't quite place yet. The feeling was somewhat disturbing. In the middle of it all, I felt myself being sucked in a temporary void and suddenly all I could hear was a dull beating in my ears. Michael, a friend whom I was pinning for since freshman year, had just left the country two months ago, and already I was forgetting him too fast for my liking.
Am I changing? But why? How?
If it weren't for the professor's unbreakable and curious gaze, I would've not remembered where I was at that moment. Sir Dan was patiently waiting for my answer, his eyes boring holes on my blank face.
There must be something in the air that nudge the fleeting inertia. Immediately, I felt too self-conscious to even look away. My ears felt like they were now burning.
Is that a smirk on his face again? What an annoying cat.
Cat. That's what he really was. He represented every bit of the animal, cunning and overbearing at a certain degree.
I could only glare back at him. The man's face became amused. He had the tendency to be so insufferable as well.
"Well, Aren't you going to tell me?" The arrogant lilt in his deep voice betrayed more of his amusement and it annoyed me to no end that, again, he knew something that I didn't.
"I don't think there is a need to explain. I am pretty certain that people have told you the same thing anyway." I just had to match his smugness with one perfectly arched brow and a wry smile of my own.
The professor, despite of his tucked and pressed linens, suddenly appeared too boyish in that one look that confused me all the more. I was again struck by the paradox of the rumors-turned-truth about his notable reputation.
"Maybe. But nobody had been bold enough to say that to my face." He cheekily grinned that secret grin again before suavely taking a sip of his Mountain Dew.
This man surely knew how to use his words (that or I was unfortunately ignorant). A second later I was caught trying to painstakingly explain myself, in detail as if I were in some spell, and I was almost certain a part of me was given away.
This is a trap. The manipulating cat is the Queen of Hearts in disguise. He is trying to see how long you can endure this mockery, my mind scoffed at my naivete.
However, from then on I couldn't help myself. In the next few weeks, it would just be the most perfect routine.
But I really had uttered my thoughts aloud even before I could stop myself, and I had to bite the inside of my cheek at that, with the decency to feel horrified despite the secret satisfaction that boiled at the pit of my stomach.
"You are being deliberate"? What the hell brought that on?
Yet another mind-numbing seatwork, of course. It wasn't exactly the most flattering remark but it had been the most basic truth.
If it was a little consolation to myself, everybody was sure to be thinking the same thing as they scribbled/stabbed on the harassed yellow paper before them. I'd be lucky if Sir Dan would even give my paper a second look and one point. I had been the second person to submit her answered (but not necessarily correct) puzzle. He'd probably award Richard, the first to stand up from his spot, two points for thinking he got the seatwork half-right.
I sauntered to the door, decidedly set on avoiding the impending question. But I also just had to look over my shoulder.
"Huh?"
That priceless baffled expression on the professor didn't suit him at all, a stark contrast to the almost-smirk he was prone to wear in most days. Since the start of the second semester of our junior year, I had been used to seeing that grin that resembled a Cheshire cat's.
Though I had sworn that I wouldn't say that out loud as well, I found myself telling him that a couple of minutes later to dodge having to elaborate my earlier uncalled-for outburst, when the bell had already screamed in my right ear and my feet were carelessly dangling two feet above the floor.
It was just reasonable that anybody should think it was inappropriate for any normal female to sit on the ledge that way in spite of her A-line skirt. But Sir Dan wasn't one to reprimand this particular female because he liked the unconventional, and he liked hanging around the bespectacled, sharp-tongued, more-tactless-than-honest-but-anyway-clever girl who liked her backpack red and functional.
And today was just one of those days where I would wonder why this rather intelligent man chose to speak to this lowly being such as myself.
I gracelessly made a jump from where I sat just like how any frustrated acrobat would.
By then I was sure everybody within the four walls of room C501 heard my unwarranted opinion of our happy-scented professor, however it was comforting that I wasn't at all bothered by the fact now than the first few seconds the statement left my mouth. That had been the start of my uncaring demeanor about anything that involved this man. Well, at least of what other people thought about these unlikely pair who must be hanging around together more often than they should.
It's not like we have any other options to kill time anyway, I reasoned with a mental shrug.
"How am I a Cheshire cat?"
He was unusually inquisitive today, and though I was normally polite and would have easily offered an explanation, I wasn't in the mood to be indulging.
Sir Dan's oriental eyes looked rather rounder before my own and I mutely blinked a few times until I realized my actions. It was certainly rude of me to stare, and I blamed his intoxicating scent for numbing my linguistic capabilities.
The sparkling yellow soda in the clear plastic cup that sat on the tabletop reflected the cheery mid-morning.
It seemed like I was falling into a trap that I couldn't quite place yet. The feeling was somewhat disturbing. In the middle of it all, I felt myself being sucked in a temporary void and suddenly all I could hear was a dull beating in my ears. Michael, a friend whom I was pinning for since freshman year, had just left the country two months ago, and already I was forgetting him too fast for my liking.
Am I changing? But why? How?
If it weren't for the professor's unbreakable and curious gaze, I would've not remembered where I was at that moment. Sir Dan was patiently waiting for my answer, his eyes boring holes on my blank face.
There must be something in the air that nudge the fleeting inertia. Immediately, I felt too self-conscious to even look away. My ears felt like they were now burning.
Is that a smirk on his face again? What an annoying cat.
Cat. That's what he really was. He represented every bit of the animal, cunning and overbearing at a certain degree.
I could only glare back at him. The man's face became amused. He had the tendency to be so insufferable as well.
"Well, Aren't you going to tell me?" The arrogant lilt in his deep voice betrayed more of his amusement and it annoyed me to no end that, again, he knew something that I didn't.
"I don't think there is a need to explain. I am pretty certain that people have told you the same thing anyway." I just had to match his smugness with one perfectly arched brow and a wry smile of my own.
The professor, despite of his tucked and pressed linens, suddenly appeared too boyish in that one look that confused me all the more. I was again struck by the paradox of the rumors-turned-truth about his notable reputation.
"Maybe. But nobody had been bold enough to say that to my face." He cheekily grinned that secret grin again before suavely taking a sip of his Mountain Dew.
This man surely knew how to use his words (that or I was unfortunately ignorant). A second later I was caught trying to painstakingly explain myself, in detail as if I were in some spell, and I was almost certain a part of me was given away.
This is a trap. The manipulating cat is the Queen of Hearts in disguise. He is trying to see how long you can endure this mockery, my mind scoffed at my naivete.
However, from then on I couldn't help myself. In the next few weeks, it would just be the most perfect routine.
