"Where are you going, Jake?"
Jake silently cursed to himself as he turned around and threw a fake, charming smile at the bane of his existence - his history teacher. Also known as the person who has foiled his plan.
"Hey Mr Branson!" Said teacher frowned at the warm greeting. Jake could tell the nosy parker was already suspecting that he was actually doing the unthinkable.
"Are you trying to skip school, Holling?" As if trying to assert his authority, Mr Branson folded his arms and cast a skeptical glance at Jake, who was suppressing his urge to laugh at his teacher's failed attempt to look intimidating.
"I wouldn't dare, sir," Jake answered with an upturned smirk, as if insulted by that mere suggestion. "How could I ever have the audacity to skip school when my grades have been declining like our country's stock levels?"
Not fazed by the student's response, Mr Branson maintained his stance and contemplated before speaking again, "I'm glad you are aware of your current performance, Holling. I hope you'll work hard for your exams. Anyway, I think it's time you head back to your class."
Reluctantly, Jake trudged his way to his fifth period Spanish class, following behind his teacher. Unbelievable! He was close to pushing the large, metal doors and breathe the fresh air of freedom. It was all thanks to this law-abiding, bespectacled balding man that he was unable to skip school.
'Next time, I'll make sure I'll thoroughly check the hallways before leaving,' Jake made a mental note.
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