Thirty minutes left.
Five minutes less than last time she had looked at the clock over the door.
Actually, she had rounded the five minutes up from three minutes.
Which she had rounded up from two minutes and forty seconds.
Those were rounded up from two minutes and thirty-two seconds.
And the thirty minutes left were actually rounded down from thirty-seven minutes.
Silently Sour Sweet groaned in frustration. She took a quick look around the classroom. Like herself her classmates were quietly sitting at their tables, heads hanging over their notebooks as they were trying to keep up with the endless stream of facts and information that were pouring down on them. With no pause the teacher, a middle-aged man in a brown business suit with grey skin and sleek white hair was tossing his lesson on them – he didn’t even seem like he was taking a breath as he talked. For the fifth time he erased the chalkboard, as it was filled from top to bottom and corner to corner with small texts, diagrams and drawings showcasing the most important facts about the famous novelist Star Swirl the bearded. All the while he kept on flooding the students with details, from his private life to his most prominent works and the political and social structure of his time.
Sour’s pen moved as fast as it could over her notebook as she tried to copy the contents of the chalkboard before they were erased, simultaneously trying to catch everything the teacher said. He spoke with a very dry and monotonous voice, but at the same time so fast the words were barely distinguishable sometimes – “pre-classic Renaissance” became “Precure Rainsauce” in Sour’s head, and sometime she would actually write nonsense like that down. He also constantly jumped in time and topic, mentioning a love affair in his late years in one second to suddenly talk about how an economic crisis influenced the works he wrote during his studies. Sour did her best to keep up, her pen almost flying over the notebook. Her notes were a complete mess full of ink spots, and it was questionable they would really help her at learning. Yet she continued to write down as much as she could, just like everyone else in class.
Her writing spree suddenly came to a halt as her pen broke at the tip. The cracking sound was drowned by the scribbling noise from all around, nobody turning their attention from the teacher to Sour. Holding the pen up Sour watched the ink run out, panicking. She looked up to the teacher who took no regard of her crisis, already starting to fill the chalkboard for the sixth time. Quickly Sour looked around, her gaze eventually turning at the student to her left. She didn’t know her name, although they had been seat neighbors for quite some time now. She had long pink hair and ivory white skin, and a very slender body build. On the edge of her table a green pen was lying.
Carefully Sour leaned a little closer to her. “Hey!” she whispered, nervously eying the teacher. Wearing a slightly too big smile she asked in a honeyed voice: “Would you lend me a pen please?♥”
The girl sharply glanced at Sour. Pushing her notebook to the other side of the table she covered her arms over it, slightly turning her back to Sour.
Frowning Sour put her hands on her notebook. “Well thanks a lot” she mumbled. With a sigh she dropped her head onto her arms. Her eyes stared at the chalkboard, watching as the teacher drew a hasty and untidy diagram of how the cultural revolution started a new literal age, while at the same time he was talking about Starswirl’s conflict with another author ten years prior to this. Business as usual here at Crystal Prep, Sour thought. It was tough, but after dealing with destructive magic and interdimensional space rifts, Sour was kind of happy everything had settled back to normal – even if it was brain-draining, smug and up-high Crystal Prep normal.
A peeping noise suddenly caught Sour’s attention. “Attention all students!” The lectures of the teacher were cut off by a very sharp and stern sounding voice coming from the intercom. Immediately everybody in the room stopped writing, including the teacher. All eyes turned towards the corner where the loudspeakers were installed. Sour raised her head, gulping. She knew this voice too well.
“This is an announcement from myself, Principal Cinch, towards the entire body of students as well as teachers here at Crystal Prep academy!” Sitting alone at a table Sugarcoat looked up from the book she was reading. While her expression was the same as usual, mostly indifferent with her eye-brows slightly knit the other students in the library glanced up in surprise as the principal’s voice interrupted their studies.
“Everyone here at Crystal Prep Academy is very proud of the reputation this school has established in the many years since I have taken the post of the principal.” Looking up at the speakers around the athletic fields Indigo Zap stopped in the middle of her lap. She turned towards them and put her hands on her hips, while the rest of her physical education class came to a halt a few dozen meters behind her on the track, panting and sweating.
“I have decided that, in order to maintain and enhance our reputation as an elite school, a few changes to the time table are necessary, as well as to the general approach at education here at this institution.” The students in the hallways of Crystal Prep academy all went quiet. Pressing her notebook against her chest Sunny Flare stood in the middle of a corridor, looking more than just a little worried.
“Beginning from tomorrow an additional weekly lesson will be added to each subject – meaning every student will have two additional lessons per day.” In one of the chemistry labs Lemon Zest nearly dropped a full test tube she held onto the floor. She pushed up the safety goggles she wore, looking alongside the rest of the class in shock at the loudspeaker.
In her office Principal Cinch was sitting straight at her desk. Elbows on the table she had folded her hands, staring over her fingers as she talked into the microphone in front of her. “Also, I have decided that for most subjects, some of the lectures from the next higher class will be moved one grade lower. For the seniors, we will include subject matter from colleges to close the resulting gaps in the curriculum.” Behind her chair, in the sparsely illuminated back of the office Dean Cadence quietly stood behind the principal. Listening to her she uncomfortably tapped with her finger on her clipboard, casting her glance down at the ground.
“To make sure all classes can get all the additional work done within the year the body of teachers is advised to increase the amount of homework.” All students in Sour’s English class widened their eyes – even the teacher seemed a little uneasy, rubbing the back of his head with a nervous look on his face. “I am convinced these measurements will cement our reputation as an elite school for all time and make us known throughout the entire country, if not in the whole world. Now, please continue with your regular lessons. And don’t forget: You must always be excellent.”
The intercom went quiet. There was an awkward silence for a moment. Some students exchanged glances, but nobody said a word. It took almost a whole minute before the teacher cleared his throat. Without saying a single word about the principal’s announcement he put his chalk back on the board, and continued with his lesson where he left off. Though it was clear they hadn't really recovered from Cinch's interception one by one the students got back to their notebooks, hastily scribbling down the lectures.
Only Sour sat there without a pen, watching in slight disbelief everyone around her returning back to business as usual. With a rather grumpy expression she dropped her head back onto her notebook. From the bottom of her heart she wished for a rift in space and time to magically pop up above her head and a giant monster plant to pull her into another dimension, one that was more pleasant.
Like one full of piranhas nibbling at her flesh.