"So, as I was saying," Osmond-sensei began with an air of practiced nonchalance, "we need to pick the cultural festival committee members for our esteemed Class 1-4. But seeing as no one is volunteering during this time slot, I'll defer the decision to homeroom after school. Sound good?"
The announcement was simple enough, but as homeroom ended and the bell rang, I noticed something strange—Osmond-sensei's eyes locked onto me with the intensity of a hunter spotting its prey. Why? What's this guy's deal?
As students began to rise and chatter, Osmond-sensei approached my desk with a smug grin plastered on his face. He perched himself on the edge of my desk, half-sitting like he owned the place, and raised a brow at me.
"What's this about, Osmond-sensei?" I asked. "If you're just here to hassle me for fun, could you tone it down a notch? Also, get off my desk. You're making it cry."
