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PlayTime

 

Snore. The snores gave it away.

Snore.

Snore.

“Mr. Cho!”

Kyuhyun abruptly wakes up, drool hanging from the tips of his lips, up until the open page of the textbook.

Kyuhyun groans before answering, eyelids half-open. Fatigue has spread over the tall young man because he spent the wee hours of the night playing Starcraft.

“Yes, Ms.?”

“I did not expect this from this section- which was the top section of their batch –Mr, Cho. Ms. Smith will see you later in detention. God, you’d think these kids were smart here,” Ms. Martin exhaustingly flails her arms in motion.

“Maybe not much. Probably just smarter than you,” Kyuhyun speaks his mind, as the teacher once thought that the y-intercept of 2x – 4y > 8 was -8. Kyuhyun suppresses the urge to let his head fall back atop his desk-chair. He groans as if he’s still trapped in his dream, the said virtual hallucination pulling him in a vast chasm.

“Go to detention next week as well,” she says back, eyes narrowing at the indifferent student.

“Anything you say, sweetcheeks,” Kyuhyun mumbles, soft enough (thankfully) for this teacher not to hear, before his head plops back on his desk, out of energy. What the heck? He was caught and put in detention anyway.

 

***

 

Ding! The school bell rings across the halls.

“Mr. Lee, I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t eat in my class.”

Sungmin rises from hiding behind his classmates’ chair, crumbs decorated around the rims of his mouth, cheeks apple red.

“Mr. Lee, detention, today.”

“Yes, miss,” Sungmin responds sulking, his pouting lips curving naturally. He wipes the food off of his face and melts in his chair.

***

Thump!The soccer ball makes thump sounds as it lands on the grassy field. The boys play with drops of sweat trickling on their porcelain faces, which became a tad bit darker because of their frequent exposure to sun.

Lee Donghae twists his body to the left, kicking the ball with strong force to his team mate.

The opposing team kicks the ball way far; about 10 meters. The ball’s proceeded to be out and Donghae’s team clenches their fists in proud glory. Donghae jogs to the ball to get it, smiling at his previous victory; to tilt his upward to surprisingly see his beautiful and smart English Teacher.

 

“Oh, Donghae? Shouldn’t you be in class?” Ms. Ahra states, eyes expressing concern and confusion.

Sweat seeps down Donghae’s forehead to his cheek, caressing his soft skin. “I-I, I was—“

“Oh, and Donghae,” she says his name softly, endearingly, “you’re sweating. You might get sick ‘cause it’s cold inside.” She the back of her hand against Donghae’s cheek and Donghae swears, he forgets to breathe.

Ms. Ahra snaps out of her reverie and starts, removing her hand from Donghae’s pale face, “You’ll only be getting detention. But you’re supposed to have a minor offense for this Mr. Lee Donghae.” Be glad you’re my favourite student.

“Call me Hae,” Donghae mumbles, his eyes evidently still hazy.

“What Donghae? I’m sorry, I didn’t hear.”

“Oh, nothing, Miss Ahra,” Donghae says, fixing his slip up with the brightest smile, waves cheerfully, and bows in finality.

“Okay. Get going to class then Donghae. Oh, and here, a Late Slip for your teacher,” she hands him a gray piece of paper with her (perfect—as Donghae likes to describe it) writing: Late for counselling with a teacher.

Counselling with a teacher? Seems more of like dreaming of the teacher.

***

“I got it first! I get to keep it! Besides, isn’t it something like ladies first?”

“Isn’t ‘ladies first’ just an excuse for girls to always go first? Besides, here in school, all’s fair share. Especially in the library, just give the book to the superior.”

“Superior? Oh, you meant me? Thanks for finally giving up,” the girl with the pink hair pulls even harder on the History book, one of those limited ones who give the equal Asian and Western appreciation. One of those limited ones the teacher happens to use; one of those limited ones that there will be a big test on.

“Tch. Are you kidding me? I think it’s obvious it’s me—“

“Excuse me, children,” Children? God, they hardly look small… or child-like, “But you’re both disrupting the, uhm, tranquil silence in my library. I’m going to have to ask you both to leave the library and go to detention on Friday,” the woman with the small-circle gold glasses says, arms both crossed. Pure irritation is clearly seen on her face, skin crinkled in the mid of both her eyes, impatient and foot tapping.

Haruno Sakura bids her head down and mumbles a soft apology before leaving the library; her green eyes committed to the floor and face with embarrassment. She’s not used to being reprimanded for her actions; she’s always commended for her good behaviour and is always recommended for both academic and behavioural activities. A scar on her record must have been made, she thought. Sigh, she might’ve already won the Disciplinary Award that year, yet again.

“And how about you, Uchiha Sasuke? Shouldn’t you be leaving as well, mister?” the old woman raises her eyebrows at the young man.

But the boy just stares blankly in response, then turns to face left and walks to leave.

After just a cluster of seconds, fangirls had already surrounded the poor unknowing librarian.

“Ms. Gold, I know you’re trying to do your job right. But you can’t just punish Sasuke by giving him detention and making his face such a complete embarrassment in front of everyone!”

“Yes, Ms. Gold. We’re actually already planning to file a case on you for brutal actions against a student.”

“What? Children, I mean, students, what’s all the ruckus? Go sit down back to your seats and let’s get everything settled. Sasuke has only received his duly punishment.”

And of course, it doesn’t stop there. The girls continue to fuss her around with their questions until Lunch Break, fortunately for the girls it was Free Period, then. So they had all the 1 hour and a half to chaotically mentally kill the helpless librarian.

 

Sakura blames that boy Sasuke for all the looks she’s been receiving from known teachers, God, what a shame. It was his fault for trying to get her book. It was clearly hers, she had reached it before the young lad. If only one girl (who looked a bit crazy—in not any good way) hadn’t bumped her a bit, she wouldn’t have loosened her grip, and the book wouldn’t have fallen on the boy’s hands.

***

 

“Wolfram! I told you not to silent your phone because you never ever feel it. Even if it vibrates so hard like when the earth shakes when you’re trying to sing a proper song,” the line crackles a bit, but the voice is still stern and loud.

“Haha, very funny Conrad. What? I’m just fine, well the teacher is giving a mentally boring lesson, but physically, I’m fine.”

A sigh can be heard from the other end, “If only I didn’t love you enough to care. Sometimes I wonder how I can take your stubbornness.”

“Of course you love me; I’m Wolfram von Bielefeld. It’s just as simple as that.”

“Uhuh. And I’m Conrad Weller, a big brother who has to take care of a troubling younger brother.”

“Yeah, well—“

“Wolfram. Von. Bielefeld. Why are you using your phone in class?!” Ms. Nuchi exclaims, eyes bigger than a maltese’s.

“Wolfram! What’s that shouting sound I’m hearing from there? Ya—“

“Ah, teacher, I was just checking in on my brother,” Wolfram uneasily smiles at Ms. Nuchi, covering the speaker of his phone, massing his brother’s words with his hand.

“While you’re at it, check in on the Detention List this Friday, too,” Ms. Nuchi defiantly stares, lips formed straight.

“Why, miss?” Wolfram asks dumbly, shutting his phone with a flip.

“’Cause you’re in it.”

“W-W-What?” Wolfram amplifies his green orbs, in an attempt to awaken his faulty mind. It seems not to be working, as he just might be hearing that a teacher just told him to go to detention. Might have. Might. Yes, it’s all going to be okay. Because it wasn’t real. It just couldn’t be real. Detention? For Wolfram von Bielefeld? Most shocking moment of the century, perhaps.

“You’ll be going to detention, this Friday, oh, and along with your classmate Cho Kyuhyun who got assigned by Ms. Smith,” she says back a bit slower, trying to make the other comprehend.

Ms. Nuchi could only wait for about two minutes for a response, but none comes. She dismisses the incident and walks to the board to continue her lesson about Cell Biology.

***

“Oh, Mr. Lau! I-I’m sorry for the call. I really am, it’s just that I wanted to check on my brother and I got caught up with the call and I’m really really really sorry for not hanging up before you got in, I’m really sorry, Mr. Lau,” Conrad blabbers after he heard the beeping tone of a disconnection from the other line; it seems that the other had also been caught in my by the teacher, now, the chances got higher of having a second meeting with the Detention Teacher. He swears he did not want to see that small old man ever again, especially when he made him eat that rotten old sandwich. The teacher had made him eat it because he wanted to check that the student gift had no defaults, well, basically he was caught then and had his first ever detention session.

“I guess it’s okay, then,” Mr. Lau smiles at him, all teeth white and showing, right in his face. It scares him off a little.

“What is okay, Mr. Lau?” Conrad asks as he backs off his head a tad bit.

“It’s okay if you go to detention this Friday, I’m pretty sure you’re going along with your chat friend, or brother, as you said. Ms. Nuchi doesn’t let people go all that easily, so I’m sure he’s getting it,” the smile is erased from the Chinese-Canadian teacher’s face; and his eyes stretch a centimetre more from unsmiling. The teacher has almost slits for eyes, which he denies always and tries to bloat his eyes whenever somebody mentions the true fact.

Then he thinks of Wolfram. Wolfram, his brother who hasn’t gotten into detention at least once and isn’t dreaming of it. He pities him, that’s a scar to his High School Life that Conrad’s sure Wolfram will never forget. Maybe not even on the College Applications; he might even remember to put that on the forms.

***

So, she died because she ate the berries? But, oh no, Peeta and Katniss said they’re going to eat the berries together… Suicide? Oh, so that they wouldn’t have to kill off each other to survive. One, two, three, they’re almost going to intake the poisonous berries. …Oh good, the Gamemakers said they’d just make it a two-winner season this year. Thank goodness, I was just about to die. B-but, what happens when Peeta finds out Katniss was just doing all those couple-y stuff for the viewers? Peeta seemed very sincere about his feelings, I’m mean, he sha—

“Gunter, how ‘bout dropping the book and answering my question?” Mr. Jong Woon, their Social Studies teacher, looks at him so weirdly and he squints his eyes so unusually it gives off an odd feeling.

Gunter von Christ, a 19-year old senior, closes his book that he’s been reading for… maybe about half of the class time? Always a pleasure to sit at the farthest seat; just unfortunate to have been noticed because you don’t actually raise your head when you read just for the teacher to think you’re not actually reading a novel. Well, that’s actually a student-reader-strategy but when you become so engrossed in reading, you forget, and well, you take your chances.

“Sir, what was the question again?” Gunter asks, slowly standing up and finding he’s taller than their teacher, the students laugh slightly in amusement.

Mr. Jong Woon clears his throat to motion the students to keep silent, and the students fall silent almost immediately; I guess it’s true that Mr. Jong Woon gives a very eerie atmosphere that it’s enough to shush the teens faster.

“What is the start of mountain range in the northeast of the Pamir Knot that leads to China?”

“The… um, Caucasus Mountains?”

“Obviously wrong. What’s the answer, students?” he raises his eyebrow at the others; anticipating an accurate answer.

“The Karakorum Mountains,” they all chorused, the answer was of course, obvious. The teacher had mentioned about just a few minutes ago; though of course Gunter wouldn’t know.

“That’s right. And you know what else there is, Gunter?” Mr. Jong Woon his head to the side and smiles right through him. “You’re going to detention this Friday, and be prepared for your extra quiz next week,” he frowns afterwards, turning and walking back to the front, allowing the staggered Gunter to stand for awhile and sit subsequently.

Detention, huh? Positives, positives… more reading time, I guess.

***

The door creaks open as Mr. Dong Hee enters the room looking very flustered. His hair is all tousled like he’s just risen from bed (which is probably true), his big, bulky glasses are dangerously perched at the end of his nose, and the stack of papers resting on his arms don’t look  any more stable at all.

Uzumaki Naruto turns his head 90 degrees and casts an evil glare at the retched teacher, secretly spending evil spells at the guy.

“Mister Dong Hee,” Naruto steps closer at the teacher, stomping his hands against the hard wood of the teacher’s table. Dong Hee has only landed the papers safely on the table; not to be helped by the startling movements of his playful student.

“Ah. Yes, Naruto?” he crinkles his nose and fixes his glasses with a push of his finger.

“You have been making me wait for more than thirty minutes Mister Dong Hee! I can’t tolerate this madness. Timid, are you timid, Sir?! Are you lazy? If you need help carrying your things, ask us! Just don’t waste our time here by being so freakin’ late!”

“Now, now. Naruto, don’t shout at me; I’m still an educator at this sch—“

“But Mister Dong Hee! You need to be reprimanded and you need to learn from your mistake,” Naruto rounds the table, while raising a finger in thought, “The Principal is too nice to tell you your improper actions. Mister Dong Hee! Hey! Hey, are you listening? Stop covering your ears, Mister Dong Hee!”

“That’s enough, Naruto,” he grabs Naruto’s raised fist, and fiery rages into Mr. Dong Hee’s eyes. “You can’t command me, Naruto. Respect, should be given to us teachers. And lastly, go to detention tomorrow, Friday,” he says, stern and eyes narrowed. For the very first time, Mr. Dong Hee seems so alert and angry, a very big revelation of a new side of him to the students. The students gasp in response, unable to take everything all at once, they decide to just stay quiet and wait for further instructions.

***

“Kangin-ah, why can’t I tell anyone that we’re dating, I mean, Kangin-ah,” Park Jungsoo, or Leeteuk, as he likes to be called, pouts. He hugs his boyfriend tightly encircling his arms around Kangin’s buff body.

“Teuk, I’m just, not comfortable with saying it. But don’t take it the wrong way, I’m not ashamed of you or anything like that,” Kangin caresses Leeteuk’s hair, the blonde hair bouncing against his palm.

“I know it’s about your image. But—hmm,” Leeteuk buries his face deeper on Kangin’s chest, feeling comfort in the feel of his warmth.

“I know you’re having a hard time about that; but, just give me some time, Leeteuk, I’ll do something. Promise,” Kangin smiles and tilts Leeteuk’s head upwards with his hand to face him with his twinkling eyes, he holds out his pinky finger in front of the older but shorter man, and the other smiles, drawing his finger with Kangin’s.

***

Lee Hyukjae sits on his chair in front of his computer set during Computer Class. Lots of clicks and enters can be heard in his area, seems he’s quite busy.

Busy goofing off.

“Mr. Lee, are models and girls in bikinis part of your project? Oh, and what is tha—“

“Models. Models are part of my project, Sir Tsubasa,” Hyukjae, or Eunhyuk, answers back. He turned his head to face the teacher uneasily, closing the tab with his fingers to the keyboard.

“Models? Really? I don’t remember putting in models as one of the topics, Mr. Lee,” Tsubasa fixes his glasses with his finger that seem to be slipping off of the bridge of his nose.

“Models of Structured Databases, Sir,” Eunhyuk replies with a goofy smile, hands to his lap and his eyes fluttering gently, trying to look youthfully innocent. It doesn’t work, though.

Sir Tsubasa smacks the student quite harshly, but not so hard either, with the roll of the paper he was holding. He straightens himself up from his crouching position earlier from talking to Eunhyuk, and starts to walk back to his Master Computer that can see all the students’ monitors. Eunhyuk rubs the back of his head and forms his eyebrows into a ‘V’.

“Stupid teacher.”

Just then he receives a message notice from the master computer:

“Stupid teachers; stupid students. Go back to your work, Mr. Lee.”

 

Hyukjae wonders then, why this school allows this kind of behaviour. Well technically, it’s not allowed for the teachers to be saying such discouraging things to the students, but of course, no one would tattletale. The office isn’t strict anyways, only the few teachers are.

 

“Oh, and go to detention this Friday Mr. Lee.”

 

Hyukjae shrugs this note; he’s been there thousands of times anyway. And Mr. Dong Yup already knows him very well because he spends so much time there. They’d once played Air Hockey on the teacher’s iPad, in which of course, not surprisingly, Eunhyuk lost. Hyukjae’s a windless sac on video games, a plant cell without water, a—you get the point. Basically, he . Though, extraordinary in sports; the exact opposite of Cho Kyuhyun.

 

Oh Kyuhyun, Hyukjae thinks, one of those smart kids in 2-S.

 

***

 

The door creaks open to reveal a panting black-haired senior, hands clenched in fists, trying to regain composure.

“Oh, Uchiha Itachi, nice of you to join us today,” the teacher doesn’t even look up to greet him, she’s sure it’s Itachi. “What? A lovely café trip today, or where else did you go to?”

Itachi hangs his head low and walks slowly to his seat, slumping, “I didn’t go around loitering, miss. I went to the Computer Lab. to print your required report.” He says it in an annoyed tone, which the teacher does notice, but she decides to ignore it instead.

“Which reminds me, since you became late trying to pass it, pass it to me now,” the teacher flips another page of the stack of papers she has on her desk, she sits crossed legged, hair properly tucked behind his ears and a clip to support her bangs.

“It didn’t get printed because the printer wouldn’t work and I’d have to wait for another fifteen minutes and not be able to go to class as early as I could’ve, so I went here,” he plays with his thumb on his left hand, rubbing it with his right thumb.

“So, you come to class late, without your report, Uchiha Itachi.”

Itachi does not respond, but of course the silence says it all.

“How many lates have you had in my class? Four? Which merits you a trip to detention tomorrow Friday, yay!” she says sarcastic, handing him a detention slip, rolling her eyes in the process.

Itachi stands up from his seat and walks to the center aisle to snatch the piece of gray paper from the impatient woman.

***

“Who’s that?” Kwon Nihui asks Lee Hayeon, her best friend, gesturing to the right, to where the straightened man sat.

“Kim Heechul. He’s been lovergirl and loverboy for so many times already,” Hayeon replies, looking casually at Heechul, who’s know sitting cross-legged.

“Oh. He crosses both ways? Figures,” Nihui answers, moving her sight to her book at her desk and flipping through the textbook.

“Yeah. Been school crowned as pretty boy of the year,” Hayeon bends over and reaches for her bag, taking out a photo of Heechul with the said (quite small, though gold) trophy, handing it to Nihui.

Nihui takes it and glances over at Heechul, he’s quite different, she thinks. In the photo he has his hair long and curled, now his hair is black, short, and styled to cover one of his eyes.

Kim Heechul smirks, quietly knowing he’s being talked about, he turns his head sideways and points with a finger to Nihui, in a ‘gun-like’ form, with an accompanying wink with the right eye.

Other girls fake faint, throwing their hands to their sweated foreheads, Nihui just stares and covers Hayeon’s ear with her hand when she whispers, “He’s cute and all, but, not really my type. I like Lee Sungmin from 3L, though.”

“Oh, short cutie. Yes, I have seen him,” Hayeon nods her head and says.

Nihui backs away slightly and playfully hits Hayeon’s arm, “Short? Meanie!” she says with a big smile.

“Tss. Big fan already?” Hayeon teasingly raises her eyebrow, putting her hands to her lap as if to be quite innocent.

Nihui laughs again, flinging her hand against Hayeon’s arm, yet again.

 

“Kim Heechul! I suspect you have a good excuse for flirting with my other students?” Ms. Yumi crosses her saggy arms. The old woman is still teaching, two more years to her retirement, though.

“Flirting? Tss. It’s just called being friendly,” unlike you. Kim Heechul, diverts his eyes to the center front, trying to look serious. He previously had been winking, blowing air kisses and giving air hugs ofr the past few minutes, the teacher seemed preoccupied with the board so Heechul didn’t think it would be much of a deal. Apparently he was wrong.

“Since you’re pretending, I’ll pretend as well. I really believed you on that one. Detention tomorrow Friday, with Mr. Panhetti.”

Heechul widens his eyes by a fraction, and asks, “Were you pretending on the believing one or the detention one?” suddenly making his eyes small, titling his head to the side.

The teacher glares, then mentally slaps herself straight on the face.

“The first one, Heechul. The first one.”

“Oh, okay,” Heechul smiles after, happy to understand.

 

***

 

“Mr. Kim Ryeowook, I suppose measurements are numbers, but they don’t actually count to be part of my day’s lesson,” Ms. Everdeen taps Ryeowook’s red-haired head lightly, pouting in disbelief and mercy.

Ryeowook could only whimper in response, afraid of the result of reading cook books inside Math Class. Ms. Everdeen slowly pulls the book away from him and places it behind her; treating Ryeowook like a child, which he actually does look like. He has this baby face, plump cheeks and big round eyes. It’s no wonder that every teacher is very soft on him, except for Ms. Nuchi, of course.

“Oh Ryeowook,” she pinches one of his cheeks softly, “I’m sorry, but I’ll have to give you detention this Friday.”

Ryeowook nods gradually and lays his eyes down, his face is pouting and his hands are properly clinged to one another, trying to release tension by pressing his fingers against the flesh of his hands.

“Don’t feel so tensed, Ryeowook, please? You’re making me worried.”

Ryeowook nods again, and fixes his position on his seat; I swear, this kid, must just be the most innocent and child-like student in the whole batch.

 

***

 

MR. PANHETTI. < That was a pun on SPAGHETTI, btw. I love spaghetti. PANHETTI SPAGHETTI.~

LOL, Yes, the first chapter, is done? Actually, I planned it to go longer than this, but I figured I would just put it in the second chapter.

Now, comment!^^