Deal? (2)

- "Deals work best when each side gets something it wants from the other" –

~ Donald Trump

Later that day, Liam found it difficult to breathe with the math sheet pushed in front of him, consumed by the lurking shadow of his teacher, Mrs. Olive, staring back at him intensely. The class had begun promptly with the pop quiz and they had just under twenty minutes to race through the 5 structured questions which were divided further into questions entitled a, b, c or d. The teacher, Mrs. Olive, was quite plump with ample bosom that Liam was certain would have easily popped out at the slightest move, had it been any bigger. Her blouse could barely hold them together and so the material was stretched to its limit, leaving gaps between the buttons.

"Damn…"

"Good evening class. Today, we'd be having a pop quiz," her voice was quirky with a queer high-pitched tune to it, "Ah ha! I bet I'd smell out all those who have not touched their math books for weeks, had it been we never took notes in this place. Hmpf!"

When all the papers were distributed, Mrs. Olive stood at her desk and set the stopwatch.

"Begin."

Pens speedily ran over papers and a thick fog of silence prevailed. Liam couldn't dream of being any unluckier than he was then, receiving a pop quiz on his first day. Twenty minutes seemed to take forever to fly by and even at the end of it, Liam's paper remained untouched except for his mark of acknowledgement of the paper being his, a shimmering white adorned with words, just as it had been when he first received it. Ms. Olive sent death glares at each terrified student as she sauntered through the maze of chairs, retrieving the tests that laid flat against each desk. Liam swallowed hard. He could only begin to imagine how she would react when she noticed that he had been pretending to write all throughout the twenty minutes and had only managed to produce his name at the top left corner of the page, paired along with the date. Before he knew it, Mrs. Olive was nearing his seat and she adjusted her glasses unto her nose bridge once she got there.

Liam waited for it with closed eyes, the dramatic scene to unravel simultaneously of how he was lacking too many screws in Math to even give one question a shot. However, to his surprise, a parody of a smile played off on her lips which left Liam with a baffled expression. Impossible, he thought. She was perhaps blinded by the fog of her glasses or chose to ignore the fact that he truly did not care to give any question a shot, afraid of adding a tinge of blue or black to the flawlessly white paper. Just as all the papers were collected, the dismissal of school made itself renounced to the world with the endless ringing of the school bell.

"Class is dismissed, you are free to leave," Mrs. Olive beamed.

The sound of stationery clicking and papers crackling immediately arose at her words and students went flying after the door in glee. Mrs. Olive's smile grew wider.

"Liam Sanchez, however, remain in class please."

He knew it; it was too good to be true. He had already messed up on the first day. What was once a process of gathering stationery in relief became one of wooden movements. Mrs. Olive's gaze lingered on him as a self-conscious figure approached her steadily. There were two seats opposite her front desk, he observed, yet he was the only one asked to remain. He began to ponder about it in the short space of time and just then, a warm draught made itself ever present in the room.

"Mrs. Olive, you asked for me to remain after class earlier today."

Liam looked up from the cup of stationery that sat timidly on Ms. Olive's desk and locked eyes with the girl that stood in the doorway, innocently holding a sheet of paper between her fingertips. She had silky straight jet-black hair that cascaded down her back and bangs which shaded her icy grey eyes that seemed to be bleached of life and most of all, she had a prosthetic leg.

"No wonder there are two seats…" Liam muttered.

The two sat down next to each other without any form of communication and stared blankly at Mrs. Olive's overly beaming face. Liam could feel the tension connect them, all three, in addition to the dark aura that suddenly consumed the bright room. She gathered a few papers together and laid them in front of her as if indicating that she was going to break the silence.

"Liam Sanchez, this is one of your fellow classmates, Emma Waltz. Emma Waltz, this is Liam Sanchez."

"I know," the girl muttered, "What do you want, don't beat around the bush."

She knows? Liam gazed at her from the corner of his eyes. She seemed unamused and he began to wonder if that was always her façade. Not to mention how blunt she was with her words, harsh like static.

Mrs. Olive continued, "Very well then, Waltz. This will be your student, study buddy, whatever you wish to call it, as of now. You are to teach him math and make sure he is as good as you are in a month's time."

Emma's expression immediately changed to one of annoyance. One could see that she clearly did not enjoy being in Ms. Olive's company.

"And who gave you the right to appoint him to me?"

She smirked. "I'm the teacher here. I do what the hell I want, once I deem it necessary."

Emma gritted her teeth. "Very well, but what if I refuse?"

Ms. Olive's smirk increased and she rose from her seat, making her way over to Emma and stooping at her level.

"Don't worry, that would be just fine. Just prepare to be a disappointment, once again."

Emma kept her gaze straight ahead, fists developing on her lap. She seemed to have reached the brink of annoyance. Liam took the time to steal another glimpse of her once more, the warmth of her body near his skin, but this time, however, she was already staring. Dammit…

"Don't get any bright any ideas ticking off in that perverted mind of yours," she rose, hugging the paper in her hands to her chest.

Self-consciousness suffused Liam's cheeks. He hadn't even realized that Mrs. Olive had left the classroom minutes ago. He pursed his lips.

"Who are you calling perverted?? Maybe you're the one with the perverted mind here, seeing that you were able to come up with a conclusion like that."

She narrowed her eyes. "Only perverts stare."

"Who's this?" a foreign voice chimed.

Liam looked across from the girl's shoulder and noticed a boy with amber hair that was ruffled yet put together. He was waiting in the doorway and his hands filled his pockets. He looked over at Emma with a mirrored unamused look. Who was he, Liam asked himself.

"Hm," Emma murmured, "Liam Sanchez, this is Rooney Craig. Rooney, Liam."

Rooney grimaced. "He's coming with us?"

"I could guarantee not today but, in the future, yes. I'm supposedly stuck with him for a month."

Stuck with him for a month… they made him sound like a burden. Liam swung his bag over his shoulders and stood up from his seat. There was nothing about the two that was of any interest to him regardless. All he knew was that he now had to be taking math lessons from a 'teacher' after school, a girl. Just as he was making his way to his departure, Emma reached out for the end of his shirt and held it in a fist.

"Liam…" she muttered and drew closer; her warm breath caressed his ear. "Promise me after I teach you and you're as good as me, that you would always leave 1st place for me. I teach you Math and you leave 1st place to me, always. Deal?"

Liam gripped his bag strap tighter.

"You left the math test blank, didn't you? There's some benefit in what I'm saying, right? I could have refused to teach you. Leave 1st place to me at all times and I'll teach you or else you're stuck with an egoist Math teacher whose intention is to disintegrate your ego. Deal or not?"

Liam stood frozen in thought. Emma was suddenly acting as if she had initially formulated the idea of lending him a hand in math since he left the test blank. Why was she so adamant on wanting to be first? Was it really all that big of a deal?

"Deal or not?"

He sighed.

"Deal."