Chapter 5 - Fish and Bait

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It was a bleary Friday morning. The heat from the previous day had been washed away with last night's downpour, and sitting at my desk was a depressing affair. 9 am wasn't a good time to exist, especially when faced with my least favorite teacher and his disapproving eyes. I raised my head and met Mr. White's gaze, already fed up with my day.

"How's the project coming along, Summers?"

Mr. White loomed over me. He was a wiry man in his late 40s, with beady eyes and a lumpy looking nose. His hair was thinning in more than one place, and his skin sagged, almost like a wax candle that had melted. In short, Mr. White was not an attractive man.

He gave me his signature look, a look so laced with disdain that it was difficult to endure. The dislike Mr. White displayed was so obvious now, a stark contrast to the mild annoyance he met me with two years ago. It was hard to pinpoint exactly when my media teacher began hating me, but hate me he did, and there were multiple episodes that could have triggered it:

One: That time Seth and I disregarded instructions and shot a documentary on the local drug community.
Two: The evening I accidentally locked Mr. White in the supply closet, and the poor man was stuck there until the janitors found him in the morning.
Three: My infamous freshman prank: the morning I stole the school's mascot - a stuffed animal in the shape of a dragon - dressed it up as Mr. White, and mounted it on the flagpole outside the school.

It was difficult to say if I deserved the hate Mr. White harbored towards me, but one thing was certain - he was not going to make this semester easy for me.

"The project is going fine, thank you," I informed him. "We're working on the script, currently." I made sure I talked in a concise and polite way, as it was the only way to avoid offending him. Mr. White's eagle eyes glared deeply into mine, as if inspecting every inch of my soul, scrutinizing my every act and word. Did this count as harassment? It sure felt like it.

"And?" He drawled, lifting his mouth into a sneer. "What of the filming? I'm sure you're aware that the others have already begun most of their preparations?" He wet his thin lips, eyes glittering dangerously. "Wouldn't want you to miss anything, would we?"

The criticism hung between us, and it was clear that Mr. White wanted nothing more than for me to miss something. Anything that opened me up to attack was fair game, and if you added some public humiliation, sprinkled it with shame and a dash of detention, it would make Mr. White's week. He wanted me to bite, wanted me to take the bait and make this easy for him. All I had to do was disrespect him.

"Our plan is pretty good, Mr. White," I said, smiling sweetly. "Axel and I will begin filming next week." I paused as I considered my next words. I could have just dropped the issue and let the man think he had won. I could, but did I want to?

"Wouldn't want to base our film on rash decisions and questionable advice," my lips curled into a smile, "would we?"

I felt a bead of sweat trickle down my neck. My intestines felt rather like jelly, and I tried to keep a straight face as the hidden insult hung between us. It was my bait this time, and I realized putting it there might have been a mistake. Messing with Mr. White was like walking a tightrope, sometimes you balanced the whole thing and won the audience's favor, while other times you tripped and fell on your face. There was no in between. I swallowed, wondering if Mr. White would take the bait.

He proceeded to smile, a cold flash of yellowing teeth, and it was clear that I'd won. In a manner of seconds, the tension evaporated from the classroom air, and we were just teacher and student again. He gave a curt nod before turning around and slipping out of the room. I slid back into my seat, suddenly cold, exhausted, and a bit weak in the knees.

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