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August 24th.
"Catalexis, could you please pass these on?" Professor Rowlins hands me some spreadsheets, taking advantage over the fact that my newly acquired self-instructed torture consists of me sitting on the first row, right in front of his desk.
"Could you please stop calling me that?" I say in the politest tone I can pull off, although I'm beyond gutted. I hate when people call me nicknames. He simply grins, ignoring me.