Her Bully | BBANGSAZ

T W E N T Y E I G H T

M I N J I
—

I've never been called by a teacher before, privately—that is.

It's always after classes when my classmates are packing up or when I'm with the principal and my parents, talking about my future plans for college and being named the Valedictorian of this school. But this is the first time I've ever been called to meet with Mrs. Jones privately. She walked up to me during lunch and asked if I could stay after school. Being the sweet student that I am, I said yes.

But now that I'm standing in front of the door to her classroom, I feel a sweat drip down the base of my neck, and I shudder, biting my lower lip anxiously because I don't know what lies beyond this door.

Did I talk badly about Mrs. Jones? No, never—she actually loves me. So why?

Before I could knock, the door is already being opened by Mrs. Jones herself. She flashes me an elderly smile, her cheeks crinkling with all the years she has been using to smile with them.

Stepping back, she guides me into the room, and I nervously adjust the straps of my backpack as I slide in and smile back at her.

"You wanted to see me?" I ask, tilting my head to the side.

She grins and nods her head, reaching her hand out to gesture me to one of the seats in the front row, near her main desk.

We slowly walk to our designated seats, and as I slide into my seat, I'm starting to wonder who belongs to the one beside me.

"Hello, Ms. Kim. You and I both know you're my star student," she starts off coolly, fixing the disarranged papers on her table.

I smile and beam at her, feeling flattered.

"Well—uhh—thank you, I guess," I reply shyly, scratching the back of my neck.

She chuckles and intertwines her fingers together, leaning her chin on top of her closed hands.

"And do you know who my worst student would be?" she asks, quirking an eyebrow.

I frown and shake my head.

I've never thought of that before—and wait—who were my classmates again?

Mrs. Jones teaches Zoology, the study of animals—and while other schools may not offer it, ours does—it's weird because it's also a requirement.

"No—I don't know actually," I mumble, narrowing my eyes at her as I try to remember who my classmates were again.

This was one of my favorite classes, so I didn't bother thinking about making friends with anyone.

She shifts in her seat and checks the time, scowling.

"That girl, always late—I should send her to detention."

Pouting, I lean forward and cup my ear. "Who?"

My question is answered when the door behind us slams open then slams shut. In enters Hanni with the biggest scowl on her face, glaring right back at us with fiery black eyes.

She dumps her bag on the floor and drops her butt on the seat, crossing her arms together as she snarls at Mrs. Jones. After a second of silence, she stands up abruptly and points at the teacher menacingly.

As soon as she does this, my eyes widen in shock because Hanni sure has big balls to do that to a teacher—an elderly one too.

"You," she hisses as she continues to stare at the old teacher.

"You—you bitch—" Hanni spits out, making me gasp as I cover my mouth and bite my inner cheek.

How could she just—