“André,” Noah called once he opened the door to see André plopped down on top of his bed, face first against a stack of pillows. “Who’s tutoring you?”
André said something incoherent against the sheets, his voice extremely muffled that it only sounded like a groan, and sighed.
“Who?”
He sighed again, harder this time, and finally lifted his head. “Yerin. Why?”
In an instant, Noah’s face grew dark and he continued walking towards his bed without another word to André. The latter just rolled his eyes at him and continued wallowing his sorrows against his pillows like the typical brooding teenager.
It was a miracle that the Headmistress had lifted all of their detentions for the month. Maybe the hair dye or the rotten toothbrush had done the trick and actually bippity boppity booed the e
