"Give me my notebook back, Nicholas, or I'm gonna tell!" a shrill voice called out.
"Oooh," the fifteen-year old Nicholas taunted, "I'm so scared, the teacher's pet is going to tell." He laughed at his own little joke, and threw the small, red notebook labeled Clyde into the air. "Come and get it, Clyde." He sneered, his voice laden with sarcasm and faux sweetness.
Clyde jumped from his seat and lunged forward, intending to catch the notebook as it fell down on the ground; but Nicholas was bigger than him, in fact, everyone in the room was bigger than his five feet tall frame. I'll get you for this Nicholas, he thought angrily. Try as he might, Clyde couldn't catch the notebook as it flew over Nicholas' head. Up and down, up and down, his body bobbed through the air in a futile attempt to catch his notebook. He looked around at his other classmates, trying to get some help, but he was very disappointed to see them laughing along with Nicholas. "Give it back, Nicholas," he screamed, his shrill, little voice drowned by the incessant roar of laughter of his classmates. Clyde watched as Nicholas threw the notebook one more time into the air; with one final attempt, he dashed upward, and grabbed the notebook by its cover. He pulled with all his might, ignoring Nicholas' immense strength. He tugged and pulled, but he was no match for Nicholas' bulk.
Nicholas yanked the notebook on the notebook as well. Clyde and Nicholas tugged on the notebook, until rip the red notebook was torn in two. The entire classroom broke into another round of laughter, and Clyde stared angrily at Nicholas.
Outside the door, a woman was standing, sighing. Hearing the thunderous roar of laughter from inside, she tried pinching herself, as if trying to wake herself from a horrible nightmare. Confirming that she wasn't awake, she gave in to defeat and sighed. She lolled her head from side to side, and read the gold sign drilled on the wall absent-mindedly. Seventh Grade- Intermediate Spell Casting. And below the gold sign, another smaller one was shining below it, Handled by Professor Paige Halliwell. She pinched herself again, Oh please, let this be another dream. She wished in vain, as she only succeeded in hurting herself. "Sigh," she muttered, "Seventh grade? More like point-seventh grade." Steeling herself, Paige turned the doorknob, and pushed the door as hard as she could.
The entire class stopped laughing. Some students rushed to return to their assigned seats, while some looked down at their books and pretended to read. Nicholas hurriedly slid down to his seat and threw Clyde's notebook to his face. "Oh hey, good morning, Miss Halliwell," he greeted Paige with a fake smile plastered on his face.
Paige walked over to the front of the class and laid her books on her desk. She glared at the class, her eyes sending her message loud and clear- I'm losing my patience with all of you. Her angry eyes washed over the entire class, causing all the students to stiffen up. Her eyes darted from one student to the next, and her gaze finally stopped at Nicholas. "What happened here?" Her gaze hardened, as she saw Clyde slink back into his chair, mending his torn notebook.
"What?" Nicholas smiled sweetly, "Nothin', Miss Halliwell, I swear. I was just playing with my little friend, Clyde, over there." He snickered, his grin broadening.
She turned her attention from Nicholas to Clyde, and softening her tone, "What happened here, Clyde?" She looks sympathetically at the skinny fourteen-year old. Clyde was an exceptional student, a straight A student, and a skilled Conjurer; yet he was always alone, a loner, as Paige called him. But he was the only one among her thirty-two students who she liked the best, which made him the center of attention. Paige knew better than to play favorites, but Clyde was the only student listened to her, who paid attention.
Clyde looked at Paige, and pointed at Nicholas. "Miss Halliwell, Nicholas harassed me and he," he paused and lifted his notebook for everyone to see, "tore my notebook, Miss." He sniffed, and for a minute, Paige thought that he was going to cry.
Paige stared at Nicholas again, who was holding has hands out in defense, "What have you got to say for yourself, Nicholas?" She strode angrily to Nicholas' desk and crossed her hands over her chest. "Well?"
"I didn't do nothin'!" He spat out, glaring at Clyde.
"Why do I find that hard to believe?" Paige said. She thrust her hand out and motioned, "Nicholas, Detention!" Paige watched as her student disappeared in blue and white orbs. She looked at her students boldly, "Now, does anyone else want to mess with me?"
All the students stared at her in shock, too afraid to protest.
"Good," Paige smiled, a huge satisfied grin plastered on her face. "Now, get your manuals out," she instructed, "and turn to page 372, Intermediate Spells for the Teenaged Witch. I want you to read this, and after half an hour, we'll be having a short quiz."
Paige rolled her eyes as her students moaned and groaned in unison, signaling their protest. She turned her back on her students, and began to walk toward her desk. Without turning her head, she declared, "I saw that, Estella. Stick your tongue out at me one more time and I'll be giving you twenty demerits." She grabbed the edge of her desk as she neared it and eagerly sat down on her chair. She rubbed her throbbing temples as she took a quick glance at the group of students in front of her, "Oi, this is going to be another long day." She rubbed her head harder as her headache pounded on her brain.
She closed her strained eyes for a second, and when she opened them, there was an apple sitting on her desk. Used to this, she scanned the room and looked at Clyde, who was smiling at her. She smiled back, and mouthed a pleased "thank you" to her student, before slumping into her chair and biting into the magically conjured apple.