The second hand of the clock on the wall ticked away.
The ballpoint pen spun so fast in Dick's hand that it blurred. He wasn't looking at the English textbook on his desk at all. His eyes kept drifting toward the window.
On the top floor of the Administration Building, warm yellow light shone through the floor-to-ceiling window.
There were forty-five minutes left until evening study ended at ten. Those forty-five minutes felt longer than walking a tightrope thirty meters above the ground blindfolded.
Smack.
An eraser struck Dick squarely on the forehead.
Biting his pen, Jason looked up from a heap of calculus formulas and glared viciously at him. "Spin that pen again and I'll shove it up your nostril. Stop fucking distracting me while I'm memorizing formulas."
Dick caught the eraser, grinned, and tossed it back. "Relax, wild dog. Wind yourself too tight and you'll snap."
On his other side, Tim didn't even lift his head, his pen racing across his scratch paper.
"Heart rate over one hundred and ten beats per minute, slightly dilated pupils, fingers unconsciously tapping the desk." Tim pushed up a pair of nonexistent glasses.
"Based on your microexpressions and the frequency of your muscle twitches, your adrenaline levels are far above normal. What did Principal Yang promise you?"
Dick raised an eyebrow but didn't answer.
He looked down at his hands. His palms were covered in calluses from years of gripping trapeze bars.
He wanted to grow stronger. Not to win on the court, but to seize control of his own fate the next time a wire snapped. The figure clad in black armor who had descended from above refused to leave his mind.
He was going to meet that "suitable teacher."
On the top floor of the Administration Building, in the principal's