Akuma Miwaku-Tekina-Yobidashi: Midnight Attraction (MetalbladeXRebel-Dynasty)

Lee shook her hand in a firm, jet delicate way. He gave her hand a few shakes, then let go.

"As you can tell, I am detective Lee Harrison." He smiled warmly. "It is nice to need you, Gwen. My father has mentioned you once or twice. He said how youre a terrific student. But that you are lacking."
 
Gwen blushed at his blunt honesty, and managed a tentative smile in Mr. Harrison's direction. A terrific student? Really? With how lousy she'd been doing as of late, she couldn't help feeling both surprised and humbled at the unexpected praise.

Returning her attention to Detective Lee, she said, "That was very kind of him. Too kind, maybe." She cast an apologetic look in the teacher's direction again, hoping he caught her meaning. "I'm doing everything I can to make sure it stays true--being terrific, I mean." She stumbled over her words, blushing profusely.

What on earth was wrong with her? One look at a cute guy, and she lost her ability to speak properly?
 
The teacher sat back down in his chair. He gave Gwen a smile, and a nod. He used to feel pride in her as a student, and he hoped she'd work back up to it.

"As I heard just minutes ago." Lee smiled. "I hope you stick to your words. I just wanted to say hi, today being my first day back and all."
 
Gwen nodded, her face burning so hot she was given to wonder if she looked like a neon sign.

"W-Well, it was nice meeting you." She said, giving him a slight wave as she sat back down at her desk.

Once again, she opened the novel, hoping that she had time to get at least a few pages in before class started.
 
Lee made for the door.

"I will see you around, Gwen." Lee smiled as he left the room. The professor decided that he wanted to keep quiet now. Gwen had a good twenty minutes to get work done, and he did not wish to take away.
 
As silence descended on the classroom, Gwen found herself getting into Sherlock Holmes and his exploits, quickly losing track of time as she was drawn into the story.
 
Before Gwen could pull herself into reality, the bell rang, breaking the silence. Studentss began to file into the room and sat down in desks, causing an ocean of Students to fill around Gwen.
 
Gwen sighed. I guess I'll just have to continue reading during lunch.


Slipping a scrap of paper between the pages so she wouldn't lose her place, she put the novel in her bag, and folded her arm across her desk, waiting for the lesson to start.
 
When the students settled down and took their seats, Harrison stood up from his desk. "Good morning class." He said, straightening his tie. "I hope your morning is going well. I'd like everybody to put their essays on their desks, so I can check your progress."
 
Having already put her term paper on his desk, Gwen idly watched as her fellow classmates rummaged through their bags, some of them muttering curses under their breath. She might have felt sorry for the few who hadn't completed their papers on time, if she didn't have to do twice the workload that they did.

You only have yourself to blame, she reminded herself, looking forlornly at her empty coffee cup. It doesn't matter. You'll get through this; you always do.

As the rustle of papers finally quieted, Gwen looked at Mr. Harrison with renewed interest. Her last few papers had been shoddy because she hadn't been paying close enough attention in class; she intended to remedy that. Today, she would give the teacher her undivided attention.
 
Most of the papers were only a page and a half long, where as others were fifteen and a half long. He couldn't help but feel disapointed.

"You are a university level class." He shakes his head when he returns to his desk. "Why is it that the class slacker has more work than more than half of you?'
 
Gwen blinked. The class slacker?

Then it dawned on her; he was talking about her.

Great, she thought to herself, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger, yet another flattering title I don't need.

Here she was, trying to make amends for her recently less-than-stellar academic performance, and he still wasn't cutting her any slack.

Gwen stifled a sigh. She knew it was her own fault for not pushing herself harder, and she knew, in spite of her newfound 'title', Mr. Harrison was simply trying to goad the rest of the class into doing better. He cared about all of his students—her included—and only wanted the best for them. He had told her himself that he saw great potential in her.

And if he sees great potential in me, then I can't really hold this against him, she reasoned, settling back in her seat. He was giving her a chance to make up for it, after all—something he didn't offer to just anyone.

Reminding herself to be grateful that he gave her the time of day at all, Gwen waited patiently for what she was sure was about to become a very long, stern lecture about how if they wanted to get anywhere in the future, they needed to apply themselves in the here and now.
 
"If any of you want to get anywhere in the future," Harrison paced back and fourth as he spoke, his hands grasping his wrists behind his back. "You all need to apply yourself in the here, and now."

He went on for a good ten minute s, but halfway through the "important" lecture a text message popped up on Gwen's phone.

"What are u doing tonight" The message read, the sender being Gwen's friend Mischa.
 
Gwen gave a start at the sound of her phone going off; she could have sworn she'd set it to vibrate-only.

Acting as casually as she could, she glanced down at the text message.

What was she doing, tonight? Trying not to lose out on her scholarship, for a start.

She knew Mr. Harrison had likely heard it—half the class probably had—but Gwen decided to answer it later. Turning the volume down until it was completely silent, she pocketed the phone, looking guiltily at Mr. Harrison as she did.


Mischa’s text could wait until later; the last thing she needed was another reason for the teacher to be disappointed in her.
 
Harrison nodded at Gwen. He was pleased that age didn't reply to the text message. She clearly was making an attempt to turn her academic life around.

Harrison gave a lecture about the importance of creative writing, and why writers are so important in this day and age. He went into his supply closet in the back of the room, and brought a box back to his desk.

"This isn't a mandatory assignment." He lets out. He reached in and pulled out a black leather cover book with at least two hundred pages. "But I want to see you write a book. You will get marks for every five pages you fill up. Extra marks if I enjoy your content."
 
Even knowing the Sherlock report would likely take up most of her time, Gwen couldn't help but perk up at this. It wasn't something she had considered career-wise, but Gwen enjoyed writing stories from time-to-time. It was one of the few creative outlets she was particularly good at; she certainly couldn't draw to save her life, and though she enjoyed sculpting, the supplies were too expensive for her to do it more than occasionally.

Tentatively, she asked, "Will it go toward our final grade?"
 
"That is a very good question, Gwen." The teacher smiled. "The best one you have had in a while."

He took the books out of the box and stacked them beside the box. "They do go towards your final marks, yes. You can write about anything you'd like to. As long as it's a work of creative fiction."
 
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Gwen beamed; not only at the teacher’s roundabout praise, but at the prospect of having yet another assignment that could help pull her average out of the mud, and elevate it to a standard worthy of her scholarship.

She might not have much in the way of free time for a while, but if she did a competent enough job on both this and the novel report…

Maybe I can turn things around, after all. She thought, feeling hopeful.

She hazarded a glance at her phone, noticing that she had two more text messages—likely from Mischa, wondering why she hadn’t gotten a reply within the first two minutes of having sent the first one.

Gwen shook her head, stuffing the phone back in her pocket once again. She’d reply once homeroom was over; for now, she needed to start planning out a story for her writing assignment.
 
"I know plenty of you are creative. I have seen some of your doodle and poetry graffitied Tests. You all have the potential to write these Novels. I just hope that you use the potential."

Lee stood outside of the door, listening to his father's words. His father was old enough that he taught Lee while he was growing up. Lee knew just about every lesson, every assignment and every punishment for not getting everything finished.

"This is a prime example of a novel done right." Mr.Harrison held up an old, worn out leather bound book the size and width of a Stephen King novel. "It was written by my own Son. He had just watched Die Hard when I had given him the project. Of course he wrote about police."
 
Upon hearing Mr. Harrison's son—the one she'd met less than an hour ago—had completed an assignment much like their own, Gwen perked up, staring at the book in interest.

He wrote that? Gwen thought to herself, mystified. That’s huge; I wonder how long it took him?

Not that she believed she’d be able to write that much in such a short period of time—and especially not with her other assignments. Still, it would be interesting to see how far she got, with exams just around the corner.

I must be a masochist, she thought in wry amusement, who else would be this excited about seeing how many assignments they could cram into one weekend?