“I said apologize. Or go to the head’s office.”

Peter said nothing. He was thinking of what to do next. In truth he had a strong urge to hit Weavger and tell him where to go. However, he knew that was just stupid. “I’m sorry for being late, Mr. Haster,” he said, “and for disturbing the class.”

Many of the students could not believe that Peter had given in so easily, for in his earlier years, he would have told Weavger where to stick his order. But Peter was already on thin ice with the school, and Weavger knew that he couldn’t get into any more trouble or he would run the risk of being suspended or even expelled, depending on how serious his next troublesome antic would be. That’s why he bit his lip and did as he was told.

“Thank you for that apology; it is appreciated. And I’m sure that the class feels the same too,” said Mr. Haster softly.

At that, two of the girls in the back started to giggle, and Wheezy shot at look at them so cold its chill could be felt throughout classroom. The girls stopped as soon as they saw it, but were sure to resume as soon as Peter took his seat.

I’m never going to live this down, thought Peter. He knew that as soon as class was out, half the school would hear of what had transpired, and the rest of the school would certainly know after first break which, to his delight, came quickly. As he walked the halls to the place where he and Charity usually met, he could hear the whispers of the people standing next to their lockers, telling their friends what had happened. He felt their eyes watching him as he walked. He could not tell if this was just has imagination or not, but he thought he could feel every new set of eyes of everyone who had just heard the news all turning to watch him as he went. It was then that he remembered that Charity had something important to tell him, and he found himself wondering whether it was good news or bad news. Well, if it’s bad news, it couldn’t possibly be as bad as what has already happened today, he told himself. Nope my day can’t possibly get any worse.

He was wrong.

Peter came to the double doors leading outside. He headed for the place where he usually met Charity between classes, which was the place where Charity had given her proposal to him and where he had accepted.

As he walked past his fellow students, he noticed that even more were staring at him. Some were even giggling and sniggering at the thought of him having to obey Weavger. For most, but certainly not all, of the students thought Mr. Weavger was funny and obviously thought this was yet another one of his comical antics, even though they had all certainly heard him shouting at the unfortunate children who tempered him, which wasn’t hard to do. But he still went out of his way to try and be humorous. The students who brought out his terrible temper with even the slightest misdemeanor were harassed and humiliated, and even sometimes physically assaulted. They were not in any way seriously hurt. For mostly it would be a sharp poke in the chest with a finger, or a slight shake, and even sometimes a couple of taps on the head with one of their own rolled up jotters. Besides the unfortunate youngsters who Weavger blatantly picked on, there were others who didn’t like the teacher, like siblings of those who caught the sting of his temper, and most likely their friends.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

Charity liked Weavger, for he was always nice to her and her friends. He often asked her what she saw in the waster she was going out with, and sometimes he said it right in front of the boy. Or if Peter were walking nearby, he would say it loud enough for him to hear it. He only did it to rattle Peter’s cage, and the young King knew it all too well.

He was thinking about this as he walked past the people sitting under the thick trees hiding from the bright sun and others lying stretched out on the green grass, letting the sun cover them with its bright warm rays. Others sat on benches or plastic chairs they had brought out so they wouldn’t have to stand or get grass stains on their clothes.

As Peter came to the bench that he and Charity often used to meet up, he saw her sitting where the sun’s yellow light shone on her. And he knew he was happy with her, happier than he had been with any of the other girls that came before. He didn’t know why, though. He just liked her. Or did he love her? Again he was not sure but would be more than happy to think it was love.

“Hi,” she said, noticing that he was staring at her. She seemed brighter in spirit as well as in skin than she had before, as though she were ready to finally tell him her big secret.

“Hi,” he said back, just as brightly. “So what is this big secret of yours?”

“Sit down. Then I’ll tell.”

“Fine.”

He sat next to her, as close as he could get.

“Any closer and you’ll be on my lap,” she joked.

“That doesn’t sound too bad.”

“And what would my boyfriend say?” She slapped her right hand to her mouth in horror at what she had let slip, and she looked surprised at her own incompetence.

“Uh ...what the heck was that?” Peter inquired not able to hide the grin that was so determined to sit on his face. “I’m your boyfriend. Have I been imagining it all this time?” The grin was getting wider, which was more out of nerves now than anything else. For the silence that followed made him a little apprehensive, and a feeling of dread seeped through him. A thought had come to his mind that perhaps this was the end of what they had built. You’re being paranoid, he told himself. He stared at the girl yet again and then said calmly, “Charity, say whatever you want to say. Come on; get it off your chest. It couldn’t be that bad.”

“Well, the thing is, Daddy introduced me to the son of one of his old friends who has just started at this school, and well -”

“You like him, and you don’t want to see me any more,” Peter guessed.

Charity sat there stunned. Peter himself was just as equally stunned; he had no idea where that came from, though he tried his best not to show it. And what was worse, when she didn’t answer he knew that he had guessed correctly.

“How long have you been seeing him?”

“Peter, I wanted to tell you but I wasn’t sure if -”

“How long have you been seeing him?” the young Wizard repeated.

Charity hung her head, her eyes fixed on the white paving stones that formed the path that their bench was bolted to.

“Two weeks,” she finally said.