Chapter 118: Chapter 118: Eight Tis Is No Problem
Gabe Chaucer had just walked over to their desks. He glanced at the bread and milk in their hands and said kindly enough, "Go eat that outside and then co back in. Don’t skip dinner in the future. You have to eat sothing."
He was only this lenient because it was Holly Winslow and Mortir Quincy, the two top students. Had it been anyone else, things would have gone very differently.
eting Pantheon’s gaze, Gabe Chaucer lightly slapped him on the shoulder. "What are you looking at? Get back to your howork. If you try to pad out this month’s reflection with ’study hard and improve every day’ again, I’m calling your dad to watch you write it."
Pantheon scratched his head with his index finger and bantered back, "But ’study hard and improve every day’ is great! It’s a life philosophy."
"One more smart remark and I’ll make you crack open two pounds of sunflower seeds. I’ll watch you do it, and we’ll see if you still have anything to say when you’re done," Gabe Chaucer retorted, glaring at him, though without any real heat.
Gabe Chaucer usually got along well with his students. He was quite amiable and would even occasionally eat with them and chat.
Next to the trash can in the stairwell, Holly Winslow took a bite of her bread and grumbled as she ate, "Hubby, you’re so unreliable."
Mortir Quincy knew he was in the wrong. He brought the milk carton to her lips. "I was wrong. Don’t be mad. I’ll keep a proper lookout next ti."
Holly Winslow took a big gulp, huffed, and said, "There won’t be a next ti. I’m never trusting you again. For a future lawyer, you’re not the least bit cautious."
Seeing the milk foam on her lips, Mortir Quincy raised an eyebrow, leaned down, and kissed her. Her lips were soft and tasted of milk.
’Felt nice.’
Just then, the sound of footsteps echoed in the stairwell, growing closer. Holly Winslow’s first instinct was to shove Mortir Quincy away. Caught off guard, Mortir stumbled backward.
Seeing he was about to fall, Holly’s expression changed, and she quickly reached out to grab him. The result was that she ended up falling heavily on top of him.
The two of them collapsed to the ground, and Mortir let out a muffled grunt.
A shadow fell over them as the Dean of Students’ urgent voice cut in. "Are you two all right?" He reached down to help Holly Winslow up, and Mortir stood up right after.
Holly Winslow’s face was beet red. ’I really didn’t an to. I didn’t an to hit him *there*.’
"I’m... I’m fine."
Mortir Quincy was, in fact, in a world of pain. He was slightly hunched over, and only after a mont did he manage to shake his head. "I’m fine."
"Good, good. Be more careful when you’re walking. It’s a good thing you didn’t fall down the stairs, or this could have been a serious problem."
After a few more words of concern, the Dean asked, "Where are you two headed? Study hall has already started."
Mortir Quincy couldn’t very well say Gabe Chaucer had let them out to eat. "Uh, the classroom bulletin board needs to be redone. I was planning to use this free ti to get it done."
"No need. You’re seniors now; you should focus on reviewing for your exams. We’ll have the juniors do the bulletin board." The Dean of Students looked at him with an expression of deep approval.
After watching the two of them enter the classroom, the Dean began his slow patrol, checking for any students skipping class or loitering outside.
With Gabe Chaucer holding down the fort, the classroom was dead silent—so quiet you could hear the rustle of turning pages and the scratching of pens.
Holly Winslow received a note passed from Mortir Quincy: My "happiness" for the rest of my life was almost gone.
Feeling guilty, Holly Winslow touched the tip of her nose and wrote back: Are you okay? I didn’t do it on purpose.
The note quickly ca back: Eight tis is no problem.
Holly Winslow was speechless.
’Eight tis, my foot!’
She tore the note to shreds and, in retaliation, dumped all the pieces into his desk drawer.
...
It was only June, with another month to go before the end of the sester, but they had already been told this would be their last PE class. That’s right—the last PE class of their entire high school career.
The final class was also the PE exam. The school didn’t place much importance on physical education, so the test events were relatively simple: the standing long jump and a run.
The standard for the run was 2 minutes and 40 seconds for boys, and 3 minutes and 20 seconds for girls.
The standard for the long jump was 2.2 ters for boys and 1.8 ters for girls.
For others, it was simple. For Holly Winslow, it was an absolute nightmare.
She could barely pass the run, but the standing long jump was a complete disaster.
The mory of her record-breakingly awful jump back in her first year at Jarton Second High made her flush with sha.
’Maybe I should pretend to be sick.’
After finishing the run, she clutched her stomach and put on a sick act. "Mortir, I don’t feel well. Can you get
excused from the test?"
The girl’s lips were red and her teeth were white. With her cheeks flushed from the run, she looked the very picture of health.
Mortir Quincy raised an eyebrow. "Wifey, are you faking sick to get out of the test? Hmm, even if you don’t do it now, the teacher will just make you co back for a solo makeup test."
He finished, a little curious. She’d already done the run, so it made no sense to fake an illness for the simple long jump.
’Wifey is hiding sothing from .’
The ntion of a solo test made Holly Winslow deflate. She dropped the act, bit her lip, and whispered a warning, "Mortir Quincy, if you laugh at
later, we’re getting a divorce!" She emphasized the last word heavily.
Hearing this, Mortir Quincy stared at her thoughtfully for over ten seconds. Then, he leaned in close. "Wifey, you wouldn’t happen to be the girl from Jarton Second High with the record-low jump of 0.8 ters, would you?"
He knew about this incident because the PE teacher would bring it up from ti to ti to console other girls in the class: "Don’t worry, you did much better than that girl from Jarton Second High who only jumped 0.8 ters."
The incident stuck in his mind because he was genuinely curious about the 0.8-ter jump.
’What kind of person could only jump 0.8 ters?’
’So it was my dear wifey all along.’
Holly Winslow: "..."
’How does he know?’
She vehently denied it. "It wasn’t ! How could I possibly jump only 0.8 ters? My splits are more than a ter wide!"
This just made her more frustrated. She could do the splits, so why couldn’t she manage a standing long jump with both feet together?
eting Mortir Quincy’s amused gaze, she felt a surge of defiance. ’There’s no way I’m jumping 0.8 ters this ti.’
The next second, she stomped on Mortir Quincy’s foot, huffed, and walked off.
A group of boys witnessed the "scene of dostic abuse." Pantheon clicked his tongue. "Tsk, tsk. So even Mortir Quincy has his day."
"So whipped."
Chase Hawkins sumd it up in two words. Seeing Mortir get stepped on and actually look happier for it, he had a brain fart and asked, "You guys think he’d smile if *I* stepped on his foot?"
This ti, Pantheon didn’t even have to mock him. Paul Powell raised his hand and mid slapping Chase twice. "You’d get a backhand right across the face. That’ll show you the reality of your situation."
The other boys imdiately burst out laughing. "HAHA!"
Pantheon half-joked, "That’s Mortir Quincy’s girlfriend. And what are you? You’re a lump of black coal from a mine."
"Get lost."
Chase Hawkins had gotten much darker recently from playing on the school basketball team. He added, "This is what a real man looks like."
"Ooh, have you finally gotten so?" Boris Owens asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.
"Him getting so? The only action he’s getting is with his toothbrush," Pantheon scoffed with a loud "HAHA."
Chase Hawkins kicked him. "Like you’re any different? You little virgin!"
Just then, the PE teacher, having finished recording everyone’s running tis, blew his whistle. He pointed to an empty patch of ground, signaling for them to move over there for the standing long jump test.
The boys jumped first, followed by the girls. That monster Mortir Quincy, taking advantage of his long legs, jumped 2.6 ters.
Mortir Quincy watched his wifey sneakily lining up with the other girls. He didn’t even have to think to know what was going through her little head.
’She probably thinks fewer people will be watching by then, so it’ll be less embarrassing.’
He couldn’t help but smile. Knowing their PE teacher, he was sure the man would blow his whistle and gather everyone around to watch soon enough.
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