The Demon Next Door

18

Mr. Wang pinched the bridge of his nose.

He loved his job. He really did. It was just that grading papers at six in the morning was not something he was particularly fond of. Getting up at four and having to deal with idiotic kids for the rest of the day was also something not at the top of his 'To-Do' list.

He could tell a lot from grading papers, though. That was something he enjoyed.

A student's personality projected through their handwriting. Mr. Wang could decipher so much just by looking at the shape, the size, and the neatness of a student's handwriting. It was easy to see which kids cared about their future, which kids didn't, or whether a child put effort into their work or not.

A student with small handwriting was usually shy. Like Tao, for example. His letters were close to microscopic, and he rarely spoke in class. However, each letter was printed delicately, as though by a type writer. The size and format suited him.

Or Luhan's writing, for example. It was elegant and neat. Luhan himself was a very meticulous young man. Every time he walked into class, he appeared to have stepped out of an edition of Vogue magazine or something of the sort.

It was interesting and boring. Interesting because of the things Mr. Wang learned, but boring due to the fact that he had to make tons of little check marks or X's over and over again.

He was halfway through the stack when someone knocked on his door. Groaning because he had to stand up, Mr. Wang made his way towards the locked door.

He didn't expect to see Jongin, though. Mr. Wang's worst student bowed as soon as he appeared in the doorway. A sincere, yet shy smile slowly formed on the youngster's face.

Mr. Wang was taken a back when Jongin held up his English workbook. He flipped to a page before looking at his teacher with an extremely eager expression painted on his face.

"Jongin, school doesn't start for another half an hour," Mr. Wang pointed out. "Why the early arrival?"

Jongin held the book out and pointed to the page. "I was wondering if you could help me. I was having some trouble last night and... you said we could come in for extra help if we needed it."

Mr. Wang took the book from him. "Now? At six-thirty in the morning?"

"I can't stay after. I have practice." Jongin bit his lip. "Please?"

"Are you seriously asking me for help right now?"

"Yes."

"You? Kim Jongin? You?"

Jongin nodded. "Yes, sir."

Mr. Wang stepped out of the way and gestured for Jongin to come inside. He watched, perplexed, as the young man walked to a seat in the front of the room and sat down politely.

He didn't lean back in his chair with his hands in his pockets. He didn't sprawl his legs out or pop a stick of chewing gum into his mouth. Instead, Jongin placed a pencil onto his desk and sat up with his back straight.

Mr. Wang pulled up a chair beside him and took a seat himself. He studied Jongin skeptically, waiting for him to begin bashing the English curriculum like he usually did.

Nothing. Silence. Jongin looked back at him, waiting for him to start talking.

Mr. Wang picked up Jongin's pencil. "So. What exactly did you need help with?"

"This exercise." Jongin pointed to the first one. "I don't understand it."

Mr. Wang cocked his head to read the directions. "'Choose one of the following verbs to place in each sentence. Conjugate the verb.' What don't you get about it?"