My Psycho Girlfriend

Episode 2

— Homeroom —

The door opened.

Mr. Finley walked in.

Everyone stood.

“Good morning, sir!”

“Good morning. Sit.”

Everyone sat.

Mr. Finley placed his books on the desk.

Then he looked around the room.

His eyes stopped on me.

He sighed.

“Psycho.”

I looked up.

“Sir?”

“I heard about yesterday.”

“I'm sure you did.”

“You jumped out of a first-floor window.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

I shrugged.

“The door was occupied.”

The class immediately started laughing.

Mr. Finley didn't.

He simply stared at me.

“You realize that was dangerous?”

I met his gaze.

“I landed.”

“That isn't the point.”

“It was my point.”

He leaned against the desk.

“You have absolutely no respect for school rules.”

I smiled faintly.

“I respect the rules.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Then why do you keep breaking them?”

I thought about it.

“Maybe they're not very good rules.”

The class went silent.

Mr. Finley stared at me for several seconds.

Then shook his head.

“Three weeks.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

“I've barely seen you in class for three weeks.”

“I've been around.”

“Where?”

“Different places.”

“Such as?”

I smiled.

“You wouldn't approve.”

He sighed deeply.

“Of course I wouldn't.”

He picked up the attendance sheet.

“Just sit there and don't cause trouble.”

I nodded.

“No promises.”

“Psycho.”

“Yes, sir?”

“One more incident today and you're staying after school.”

I looked at him calmly.

“That's fine.”

He frowned.

“You're not worried?”

“Should I be?”

“You should be.”

I smiled.

“Then I'll try.”

He stared at me.

“You're unbelievable.”

“I get that a lot.”

Mr. Finley turned toward the board.

“Open your notebooks.”

I reached into my backpack.

Then stopped.

My mathematics notebook wasn't there.

I slowly looked into my bag.

Nothing.

Mr. Finley noticed.

“Psycho.”

I looked up.

“Yes?”

“Where's your mathematics notebook?”

I stared at him.

Then at my empty bag.

Then back at him.

“Apparently, it has chosen freedom.”

A few students laughed.

Mr. Finley didn't.

“Do you have it or not?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I don't know.”

“Did you leave it at home?”

I shook my head.

“No.”

“Then where is it?”

I glanced beside me.

The white-haired boy held up a notebook.

“Looking for this?”

My eyes narrowed.

I took it from him.

“How did you get it?”

“You left it yesterday.”

I stared at him.

Then at the notebook.

Then back at him.

“You could've returned it yesterday.”

“You disappeared.”

“Fair.”

I opened the notebook.

Mr. Finley watched us.

“Can we continue now?”

I looked at him.

“Of course.”

He turned back to the board.

“Before we start, everyone put your phones in the box.”

One by one, students obeyed.

Psycho.”

I looked up.

“Your phone.”

I reached into my pocket.

Then placed a phone into the box.

I returned to my seat.

Mr. Finley stared at me.

“Psycho.”

I stopped.

“Yes?”

“Where's your actual phone?”

I smiled.

“You're getting very suspicious of me, sir.”

“Because you give me reasons to be.”

He pointed toward my bag.

“Open it.”

I sighed.

“Fine.”

I opened the bag.

Mr. Finley watched carefully.

I pulled out my actual phone.

The class laughed.

I dropped it into the box.

Then looked at him.

“Happy?”

“No.”

“That's unfortunate.”

I sat down.

The lesson continued.

Five minutes later, I quietly unwrapped a candy.

Mr. Finley stopped teaching.

“Psycho.”

I looked up.

“Yes?”

“What are you eating?”

“Nothing.”

“I can see it.”

I looked at the candy in my hand.

Then back at him.

“You have excellent eyesight, sir.”

“Put it away.”

I slowly put the candy into my mouth.

He stared at me.

I smiled.

“Too late.”

The class erupted.

Mr. Finley closed his eyes.

“Why do I teach this class?”

I raised my hand.

“Sir?”

He reluctantly looked at me.

“What?”

“I have an answer.”

“For what?”

“Your question.”

He stared at me.

“You're the reason.”

The class completely lost it.

Mr. Finley pointed toward the board.

“Enough.”

I leaned back in my chair.

He continued teaching.

A few minutes later, he suddenly stopped

What now?”

“Come here.”

I walked to the front.

He pointed at the board.

“If you approximate this number, what do you get?”

I stared at the equation.

Silence.

I looked at him.

Then at the equation.

Then at him again.

“…A headache.”

The classroom exploded.

Mr. Finley rubbed his forehead.

“Psycho.”

“Yes?”

“Give me the actual answer.”

I looked at the equation again.

“I don't have one.”

“Then ask your partner.”

I glanced at the white-haired boy.

He was already solving his question.

I leaned toward him.

“Whitey.”

Nothing.

“Hey.”

Nothing.

I lowered my voice.

“Help me.”

He continued writing.

I narrowed my eyes.

“Fine.”

I crossed my arms.

“I'll remember this.”

He finally looked at me.

“It's mathematics. Not revenge.”

I smiled.

“Everything is revenge if you're creative enough.”

He stared at me.

Then shook his head.

Mr. Finley pointed toward the board.

“Both of you. Solve the questions.”

I picked up the marker.

“Fine.”

I stared at my equation.

Five seconds.

Ten seconds.

Nothing.

I glanced sideways.

The white-haired boy was already halfway finished.

I leaned closer.

“What are you doing?”

“Solving it.”

“I can see that.”

“Then why ask?”

I smiled.

“Because you're annoying.”

He sighed.

I whispered,

“Help me.”

He finally pointed at the first step.

I looked at it.

Then nodded.

“See?”

I started writing.

“You're useful.”

He looked at me.

“That was almost a thank-you.”

“Don't get excited.”

I finished the question and handed the marker back.

Mr. Finley checked my answer.

He sighed.

“Somehow…”

He looked at me.

“You got it right.”

I smiled.

“Obviously.”

“You barely knew what you were doing.”

“I knew enough.”

He shook his head.

“Psycho, my office. Tomorrow morning.”

I picked up my backpack.

“Again?”

Yes.”

I sighed.

“Your office is becoming my second home.”

“Maybe if you stopped causing trouble, you wouldn't have to visit.”

I paused at the door.

Looked back at him.

Then smiled.

“No.”

Mr. Finley stared at me.

I walked out.

Another normal day.

At least for me.