[ALSO KNOWN AS "MATCH MADE IN HELL" ON WEBTOON ORIGINALS]
He's. . . hot, popular, and proud.
She's. . . plain, eccentric, and persistent.
There's nothing common between them except that they hate each other. Not good, right? But why is he determine...
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ღ Finding Cinderella- 29 ღ
-Kylie-
As soon as he arrived, Mr. Cross began to pass around the test questionnaires, and everyone in the class lamented. The big problem was that he was not afraid to give failing grades to his students. There was no way I would let some tyrannical teacher hamper my path to getting into med school.
The questionnaire reached my table, and as Mr. Cross passed by, he gave me a look as if to say, good luck, Harris. Last time, I had managed to get a miraculous C, and if I could get a C-plus or a B this time, I would probably cry a bucket of happy tears.
I scanned the paper and my eyes almost sprang out of their sockets. What the hell? I studied the entire syllabus the night before and even crammed Tristan's detailed notes a few minutes ago, but I couldn't remember if Mr. Cross had lectured all this stuff.
Someone from the back complained about it, but Mr. Cross interjected, "What's the matter, Mr. Oliver? The test only covers what we discussed two weeks ago. If you've paid attention in class, you should do well on this test."
"Psh. I can't even remember what I did yesterday," a girl muttered at my side. She was possibly the only person who was more clueless about this subject than I was since all she did was texting under her desk during lectures.
Sweat rolled down my forehead. I skimmed the questions again, trying to recall what I had studied. Eventually, I grabbed my pencil, started to jot down my answers, and hoped for the best.
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-Tristan-
After school. Clark, Will, and I found ourselves sitting in the same classroom again. There was another person sitting behind us: a girl who was chewing her nails endlessly and scanning the room as if she was trying to find an escape. All of us were trying to find an escape.
Mr. Cross didn't give his students a simple task as punishment. He wouldn't assign us an essay to write or just let us sit in silence. Instead, he would give us a problem set that we had to solve, and the answers had to be correct; otherwise, we'd have to stay for one hour until we got them right.
