– If a single question about poetry seems to you to interfere in your affairs, don't worry: I'll never ask you anything," I promised grimly. – Now let's not waste time and get to physics.
With another chuckle, Cedric picked up my textbook.
– What part of this material don't you understand?
– Paragraph sixteen," I answered briefly. I didn't like the sound of his voice.
– What's so hard about it? It's second-year review material," he muttered under his breath, the corners of his lips lifting in a new mockery of me.
I gripped my fingers tightly into my notebook, my knuckles turning white, and tried to calm myself with the thought that this torture would soon be over. And that Morgan wasn't worthy of making me as boorish as he was. No way!
For the entire hour and a half of class, I felt awful. Terribly small and stupid. Cedric was patiently explaining the material to me, but I could feel his contempt in every word, look, and gesture, but I didn't show it. But my willpower wasn't as strong as I'd hoped, and I was suddenly pierced by the realisation that I couldn't hear or understand anything of Cedric's explanations, and I was just trying to keep my composure. But my nerves were beginning to give way. I took a deep breath and covered my face with my palms.
– I'm sorry, Cedric. You explain it well, but I don't understand it. Think what you like about me! – I let out a cry of despair.
When I opened my face, I saw that Cedric was looking at me intently. Something strange flashed in his gaze. Probably another taunt.
"Bloody rector! Bloody university! Bloody programme!" – I mentally shouted.
– I think our meeting has come to an end! – With those words, I got up from my chair and started throwing my things into my bag.
Cedric silently looked at me with a cold stare.
As soon as I left the library, I felt morally relieved and remembered that Morgan and I hadn't arranged our next meeting.
To hell with it! To hell with these classes and physics! To hell with that arsehole Cedric! To hell with it all!
Tears came to my eyes. I wanted to cry at the thought of how unfair life is. Why is it that when you try to be polite to everyone, all you get in return is rudeness? When you try to be helpful, but instead of gratitude or friendliness, you get insults? But no! I will not cry! I am not a weak-willed girl who cries because some scoundrel called her stupid and naive fool! Because if I cry, it'll be funny! After all, then I will be ashamed of my weakness …