Liability

Chapter 22 - Dmitri

He tells his homeroom students that the placement test retake will take place after their class ends, gritting his teeth at the irritating fits they attempt to throw. He doesn't even try to hide his glare when he stares them down, his pounding headache had worn his patience thin before the day even began.

"I don't care if you actually turn up," he snaps finally, shocking everyone into silence with the harshness of his tone. Good. "Leave, by all means, it sure as hell easier to add another double failing mark beside your names than correcting all your tests."

"Now, don't be so hasty," Thommy says, raising his hands in a supposedly placating way. "No one said we won't be here."

"Then stop bitching and start reading chapter six already."

"Somebody is touchy," James sing-songs, meeping when Dmitri throws him a dark glare.

"What happened to the lame, cheery dweeb from last week, dude?"

"He went and died a fiery death of disappointment. Now shut up and work." Dmitri just doesn't have the patience for the little bastards today.

They are silent for the next few minutes, the lack of sound a blessing to the incessant pulsing behind Dmitri's eyes. It doesn't last long, however, the chapters of The Great Gatsby aren't long and his students are anything but interested in the book. Most of them probably just skimmed the digital pages, something that will come bite them in the ass in two days when Dmitri will issue their first pop quiz, but for now, he will be fine with them filling out the worksheet he prepared on Saturday.

They grumble but probably sense his escalating bad mood because they do as he says and the class passes without an incident. It's definitely a first. And won't last if the brats have anything to say about it. When the bell rings, they start packing up until they realize that almost all of them have to stay, which erupts another round of disgruntled muttering.

"You have ten minutes. Freshen up, have a smoke, I don't care. Just be back in ten," Dmitri says and stands up to pick up the tests and starts placing them on the students' desks face down. He needs to start doing quizzes electronically and then just send it to the kids' tablets as the test starts. Except, even if this is just a charade, the idea of switching from traditional paper to digital format makes something crawl under his skin.

He doesn't realize he is staring down at Elijah Charmichael's desk until someone clears his throat behind him. The only reason he doesn't jump is because the instinct had been weeded out of him long before he hit adulthood. His spine still stiffens, though, but he manages to stay calm as he turns around and looks at Mark Goodman's pallid, scowling face. He lifts an eyebrow, silently noting the soft sheen of sweat on the boy's neck and above his lips. He looks green around the gills, as if he is about to throw up, but his eyes are alert if pained. Dmitri has seen those symptoms before.

"What."

"I don't know, Mr. Goodman, you approached me," is Dmitri's reply, his tone carrying the barest hint of sarcasm.

"Yes, but you're staring at me like you expect me to fess up some crime," Mark grits out, arms crossed in front of his chest once again.

"I don't recall reading about any scandals in today's paper, so whatever you did, it still appears to be a secret."

"I didn't do shit!"

"That's good. Less mess for me to clean up after you then."

"Don't turn your creepy reverse psychology crap on me. I'm not that brainless Prescott you can charm with your fake niceties and pretty ass." Mark's voice is full of disgust, snarling like a cornered animal even though Dmitri barely got in two words so far. Interesting.