You're a Masterpiece (BOOK 1)

Chapter 6

AN: im uploading an extra chapter this week in honor of the start of pride month. also. BLACK LIVES MATTER.

The academic workload was getting heavy, and hell week was approaching.

Art should have expected that the school work would catch up to them at some point. They should have expected that it wasn't all pretty, all happy sunshine. And they were right. Hell, they'd be stupid to assume that this school gave easier tasks.

It didn't give easier tasks.

Well, in hindsight, the projects were easier and most of their teachers were kinder. Also, most of their randomly-selected group mates were cooperative and fun to talk to. The tests they took were hard but they prepared well for them, and when they didn't know the answer Angelito was a quick pssssst away.

So, everything was going... moderately okay.

Except for Sir Dominic's class.

He was a dumb, intolerable, old, and senile motherfucker. He was probably a sadist. He was fucking agitating and Art couldn't stand hearing his shrill, too-high voice that made their ears bleed. He spoke with the arrogance that he thought of as wisdom, and he talked like he owned the entire fucking school. He taught like he was the only man in existence gifted with an ounce of knowledge, and every other opinion that was different from his own was invalid and immediately incorrect. He had the moral ascendancy and the condescending nature of a man that has won against all odds—not by talent or skill—but by pure luck, and therefore, anyone who wasn't doing the same was useless and inferior.

So, yeah. Art fucking hated him.

He gave useless, identification-based tests on shit that didn't matter! Didn't help Art learn anything! What the fuck! Why should Art know every word in the textbook? Huh? The concept of supply and demand was simple, but Sir Dominic added his demonic fucking razzle-dazzle and made the entire class suffer.

Hell, Art didn't even bother studying for their test today. They just rubbed their eyes and half-assed the essay that came their way, adding in a few big words for brownie points. Fuck, economics! Do you know what they should do? Bring the rich to the guillotines!

"Time's up!" Sir Dominic called. "Pass your papers forward."

There were groans of frustration. Art rolled their eyes mightily and looked to Chase, who was struggling and groaning.

He looked back at them, eyes wide. "Number one and five?" he muttered, lips barely moving.

Art nodded. They swooped down casually to "reach" for a dropped pen. "Letter A and D."

"Thanks," he sighed. "Una ka na. Para hindi halata." (("You go ahead. So it isn't obvious."))

Art nodded and stood up to pass their paper.

Oh. Another thing about school.

Shade fucking Flaurante.

After a full week of absence, he came sauntering into the classroom like a god. His face was an ugly yellow-tone instead of blue, though, and he acted like... nothing happened. He was back to his usual routine of scowling, biting, retorting, and repeat. Whenever any teacher asked about where he's been and how he was, his answers were short. Clipped. Indirect to the point and downright lies. To be honest—and Art had a valid opinion since they were observing him from the very start—it looked like Shade was deflecting all and every form of concern through sarcasm.

Art didn't care.

Well, okay, they cared a little bit. He made them even more curious, too—Art didn't think that was possible—because he approached them a lot this week with neutral expressions and polite words. It was a destabilizing and dizzying contrast to who he was last week, and Art had to do numerous double takes whenever they had to talk to him. He was... bearable for once, and it finally felt like they were respecting each other's space (to an extent).