The Imperials

Drenched

Musa POV:

I panted breathlessly with my hands on my knees as Mr. Ace compelled us to race laps on the boundless green field of our school. Our school was huge and curvy like a snake covering acres of land, but only two stories though to carry the capacity of all the school levels from kindergarten till the students in high school. In the front side, there was the plain double door entrance leading to the junior classes, in the middle was where the field and the vast parking lot was located, a view that we could picture from our classroom windows. And, in the end, there was the high school entrance that led to their side of the school. A few benches and picnic tables were stowed there where high schoolers hung out often under the tree shade. 

"Musa, run!" Mr. Ace cried with irritation, deafeningly blowing his whistle that hung around his neck. "Come on, you still have a few more laps to do. Come on, chop, chop!" 

"I can't!" I wheezed, falling flat on the rocky tracks and watching my classmates shoes pass by like a lightning bolt. "I'm dead. I guess, we've now got to call the ambulance." 

"Look at your twin. He's even faster than you!" Mr. Ace cried, pointing at Harun who had already done his fifth lap for goodness's sake. This was P.E. class, and during P.E. all fifth graders would come together to be dominated by Mr. Ace, our coach, who would enslave us and coerce us into one of the brutal exercises in the world. 

"Come on, get up, or marks deducted!" Mr. Ace blew his whistle again, deafening my innocent ears. 

"Nah, I'm good." I sat up on the tracks smiling goofily at him. "Did you know that if you want to be a clown, you don't need much marks or education? Crazy right? Being illiterate can also give you so much in life. And, you definitely don't need P.E--"

"Musa, stop wasting my time--" Mr. Ace tapped his feet impatiently on the ground with a scowl.

"Come on, you've got to give me credit for running four laps at the least." I pouted. 

"Musa, now!" He pointed at the tracks warningly, "Get up!"

"Told you, I'm dead!" I cried loudly, falling flat again on the ground and closing my eyes with my arms and legs sprawled openly on the ground. 

"Musa, I'll give you one more warning--"

"Dead people can't talk or listen!" I hollered with my eyes closed. 

"Ugh--" 

Ding!

The class bell rang for lunch break, and I got up instantly dusting my pants before running down the school tracks towards our school building like a cheetah before Mr. Ace could yell out my name. "Sorry, I think I can feel my heartbeat again. I'm alive!"

"Get back over here, Musa!" Mr. Ace yelled, his voice echoing through the field and alerting everyone in my class. "Everyone goes for lunch, except for Musa. You have detention!"

"Sorry, I already have my night booked for detention with all the other teachers." I yelled over my shoulder, turning to gaze at Mr. Ace with a smile who looked like an angry ant now standing on the other side of the field furiously waving his arms. 

You could in all likelihood define me as a bad boy of the school since I was slacking off in all my grades, and most of the time fooling around. I mean, come on... what's the harm in getting bad grades anyway? I'd probably just get a mouthful of lecture from dad's lips, and then some yearly grounding or some spankings to the max. What else? I'd get some grounding, Dad would feel the satisfaction thriving in his bones, and then the next morning, we'd be best buddies again. End of story; me and dad living happily ever after!