"I don't like you, Mr. Decarlo,"
He eyed me with his stormy grey orbs. "The feeling's mutual,"
In which Newton's laws of attraction have been violated...✨
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It's 3.00 p.m and I'm standing at the door of Mr. Decarlo's so-called office.
Whatever he wants from me, it cannot be good at all.
After standing there for what felt like eternity, I finally gathered up the courage to knock on the door.
"Come in," I heard an exceptionally deep voice. After turning the doorknob and pushing the door open, I peeped into the room.
There he was, in his authoritative posture, reading what seemed like an encyclopedia; a massive book with pages that appeared to be extremely thin.
Of course, this guy would never read a magazine or any other ordinary book. It was always some sort of intellectual science book.
Staring into the book, he muttered, "Quit peeping and close that door, Winslow,"
I closed the door behind me after recovering from the shock he'd given me. I walked towards him meekly. "You asked to see me, Mr. Decarlo?"
"You know Winslow," he said, closing the huge book he had in his hands. "You never seize to impress me by placing second in class, while having so many voids in your schedule,"
"With all due respect, Mr. Decarlo, there is one better student in our batch," I said, referring to Leah who obviously way better than I was at anything. Her scores always, and I mean always, topped mine.
As I felt his intimidating gaze, my eyes searched for something to stare at, with hopes of avoiding it.
"The existence of that person is not what matters. The existence of only one such person, while you are in this pathetic state, is what matters, Winslow," he said, rotating his chair to either sides.
I looked up at him, wondering what to say.
As I met the bottomless grey pits in his eyes, I started to get intimidated once more.
So empty and endless. They didn't have an ounce of kindness in them... at least, that's what I saw.
"What are you staring at, Winslow?"
That's when I snapped into reality. I took a sudden deep breath and gulped, regaining my composure.
"Nothing at all, Mr. Decarlo," I said, averting my gaze.
"Mm hmm..." he nodded, raising his eyebrows. "Well, what is the extraordinary excuse you're going to present this time?" He leaned forward, placing his hands, fingers intertwined, before the bridge of his sharp nose.
I gulped once more, as my mind went blank.
"I'm listening..." he said, deeply.
"Mr. Decarlo, I... ugh..." I looked around the room, and at anything but his piercing grey eyes. "Is forgetting a valid excuse?"
