“Carmichael, André,” one of the prefects called over the crowd to check if everyone is already present.
It was already eight in the evening and yet they expect everyone to be weeding out the field and cutting slightly ‘taller’ grass. The one with the most heap of rubbish will be the first to go.
What a load of bullshit. Their previous Headmaster was OCD, but he’s never done a cheap stunt like this.
Everyone knows that lawn mowers are far better.
“Carmichael, André?” the prefect called again and David nudged André by the shoulder, urging him to speak.
“Here,” he said tersely, unable to contain his annoyance, and clenched his fists. One of these days he’s gonna land another punch on that bastard’s face again.
“You know what, I think you should relearn your manners. You have to know how
