Chương 225: MOTIVATIONAL HOMEROOM TIME

It's Friday morning, and I'm sitting at my desk, head on the table. I'm exhausted, but at least I'm physically present, as if it took all I had just to get myself here. It's one of those days again. I've been getting too many days like these. I blame today on yesterday's long training session. My friends seem to be used to this. They helped themselves to the homework I had left on my desk and chattered on as if my body wasn't left there for dead. Like I've said, I've been getting too many days like these.

Liam came into class with our printed project papers. He returned each project to its team leader. Naturally, Henry received ours first. Henry smirked at it and gave it a quick flip. Then he passed it to Marcus, who did the same and passed it to Liam, who had already seen it, so he simply passed it to Pearl and Jasmine with his usual lopsided, boyish grin. By now I knew it had to be an "A" on that paper. Pearl and Jasmine gasped happily.

"Yay!" Jasmine squealed, just a little and very softly.

"That's my first 'A' this year!" Then they looked at me. My head was still on the table. Jasmine quietly left the project papers on my desk with my homework for when I could lift up my head again.

"What happened to Sam?" Pearl asked.

"Probably recovering from another bout of 'anemia,'" Henry joked. Stoopid Alpha Moneybags. Don't make fun of the sick!

"Hey, Sam, are you okay?" Marcus asked. I didn't reply. Stoopid Beta. Leave me alone. How did Savy put it? Ah right, "let sleeping dogs lie."

"Maybe we should just let her be?" Jasmine suggested. Clever girl. So they did, and everything was peaceful. Mrs. Henderson came in for homeroom. I straightened up when she did because a big fuss over my "anemia" would be exactly what I didn't need right now. Today, we were supposed to create a motivational slogan in our groups. Mrs. Henderson felt that our class looked lethargic, so to help us "get energized," we would have to come up with a cheer and perform it.

We had the first thirty minutes to come up with our motivational slogan-cheer and perform it in front of the class. As usual, we were allowed to go anywhere in our small groups to brainstorm and practice. Somebody kill me now. It was exactly that feeling that made me think that if I ever had rogues in my dungeons again, this was what I would make them do. Come up with motivational slogan-cheers and perform them for one another. Or better still, send them back to high school.

This would surely revolutionize torture as we know it today! Muahahaha. All in all, I was rather tempted not to write about this bout of bad attitude, but I also realized that in forcing myself to write out the things I'd rather not, I come to face a truth about myself. I don't know if my bad attitude came as a shock to you, but it certainly shocked me. But no matter what my attitude, life went on.

The wolves naturally grouped together at the usual picnic bench by the side of the school, but we were far from united. Henry wanted to spend the half hour getting angry and frustrated about having to waste our time over this stupid task while working on supposedly more important tasks on his phone. Marcus wanted to spend it sighing and groaning while working on his phone. Liam didn't mind whatever we decided to do, just let him know what it was later, and he went off to play football with the other boys.

Pearl didn't want to do anything lame or embarrassing. Jasmine was actually keen to cheer because she was sure we could do something cool if we worked together. Jasmine was probably right, but the key condition—that we had to work together—was a really big hurdle at the moment. This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. I was the worst. I just put my head on the table.

"Wake me up when it's over." So Jasmine spent the next half hour arguing with Pearl about what we were going to do. When Liam returned from his game, he found us just like that: Henry irate at his phone, Marcus sighing at his, Jasmine and Pearl not arguing but discussing (very strongly against each other), and me with my head still on the table.

"You okay?" Liam asked. I straightened up. Yeah, why wouldn't I be okay? But Liam looked concerned.

"Yeah," I said.

"Okay, what have we got?" Henry asked the girls. Pearl smiled, but it was a mean smile.

"Ask the cheerleader." Jasmine just looked wide-eyed and upset. Okay...

"Ah—time's up," Marcus said. He sounded way too pleased. We had NOTHING. Henry sighed.

"Now what?" How should I know? He was the leader, not me. I put my head back on the table. Had I ever had to cheer in a group before? Yes. At every single camp, and I always made sure that my team was the loudest damn thing you'd ever hear. When you cheered in a group, it wasn't about fancy words or cute poses. You just blasted your voice as loud as you could and ended by screaming your head off.

"Sam! Get up," Henry ordered. I growled a little. Stoopid. Don't order me. But I lifted up my head.

"What's wrong with you today, Sam?" Henry asked. Why was everyone asking me that? We got back to class together and sat at our seats. Mrs. Henderson asked who wanted to go first. Naturally, I raised my hand.

"What the—" Marcus said.

"Might as well get it over with," I said. We dragged ourselves up to the front of the class like cows to slaughter.

"I'm gonna say, 'We can do it,' and the rest of you shout, 'Yes!'" I told them. Henry didn't look convinced. But he didn't have much of a choice, especially since we were already up in front of the class.

"We can do it!" I shouted, sort of half-heartedly.

"Yes!"

"Yeah."

"Yes."

"Yah."

"Okay." Okay? Who the hell said "Okay"? One word, guys, and you had to mess it up. The class sniggered. We turned to look at Mrs. Henderson. I shrugged.

"That's it?" Mrs. Henderson asked.

"Yeah," I said.

"Um... okay, thank you," Mrs. Henderson said. The class sniggered some more. I shrugged again. Whatever. We returned to our seats. I tried not to put my head back on the table. Then I noticed that Jasmine looked regretful. Maybe I should've helped her get the group together. But I really didn't want to cheer anything girly myself. What we lacked was motivation. If the prize was right, I would've donned cheerleading skirts and pompoms and jumped through hoops if I had to.

But there were no prizes of any sort for this. Not even the intrinsic type, like a sense of achievement. The next team was Abigail's. Abigail threw over a winning smile.

"Give me a Y!" She was bright and sparkly and enthusiastic.

"Y!" the girls returned with varying levels of enthusiasm.

"Give me an E!" Abigail pranced across the front of the class. I was thankful that the word they were spelling was short. It was embarrassing to watch. Abigail was dancing and shimmying across the front of the classroom, every cheerleading fiber in her body alive to the glory of attention, but none of the girls backing her up were able to follow her moves. They did try, though, rather awkwardly. Our class sniggered more. I pretended not to look. Jasmine looked like she was feeling better about our attempt, though.

Next were the cool girls... and Maria, who just stood there staring creepily with a half-smile on her face. The cool girls tried to do a really cute routine based on that cute band... what was its name again? LuvMuunMuun. That's right. Three out of the four of them could do it too, but the routine ended up dragging on too long, and because it was in a song, and unlike LuvMuunMuun, the girls had no mic, it was too soft to actually hear unless you had wolf hearing. Terrence's group actually did the best.

The guys gathered together and shouted in a messy chorus, "North, South, East, West, who's the best? We are better than the best!" Technically, it didn't make sense, but I would have to agree with them. They were the best. A few more groups went. Some of them tried to follow my group's attempt and just shouted something random followed by a "Yes."

The guys tried to act cool and just as uninterested as we were, but failed because it was too obvious that they were self-conscious in front of the class and/or desperately wanted to look cool. They would try to saunter or not stand straight, or they would physically turn red. They would never be able to replicate our nonchalant lacklustre attitude because ours stemmed from genuine apathy. I think from the moment I raised my hand to volunteer us, we had all but given up. We just wanted to get it over with.

But I didn't really think our group was cool for that. We were losers. We gave up even before we tried. We said it was a stupid thing even though we knew we still had to do it. Doing a stupid thing badly was even more stupid than doing it well. If I ever had to do this again, I would do it to win. Nothing too complicated. Maybe it would even be the same line. But I would've made Henry lead it with his baritone, made everyone practice it, and won. We could have won. I wonder what's wrong with me today.

Today, I couldn't even be bothered to win. Yes, I'm aware that this wasn't a competition. And therein lay the root of my lack of motivation. There wasn't a competition. Not for me, anyway. Eventually, the bell rang, and Mrs. Henderson told us to take out our math textbooks.

"Fun time is over." Yay! Just as things were settling down, my Wolfie stirred. {Beta approaches.} I cast a glance at Marcus. He was still at his desk. Which Beta, Wolfie? There was a knock on the door. It was Harvey. He handed Mrs. Henderson the green permission slip from the office, as well as a letter with my Dad's personal seal printed on the envelope. Mrs. Henderson frowned as she read the letter.

"Samantha?" I stood up from my seat.

"You'd better pack your things and go home quickly," Mrs. Henderson said.

"What happened?" I asked.

"I'll explain later, Princess," Harvey said with his usual calm smile. I put everything into my bag and left.

"Bye, Sam," Jasmine said.

"Text us what's up," Henry said.

"Let me know if you need anything," Marcus said. Harvey nodded a quick bow on my behalf.

"Thank you, will do." Then he thanked Mrs. Henderson politely and led me downstairs to the student foyer, where a blue Lamborghini sat just outside. I looked at it.

"What's the occasion?"

"My truck's at the workshop," Harvey explained.

"Did something happen to it?" I asked. Harvey shook his head.

"It's just getting wrapped."

"You didn't have to wrap your truck blue," I said.

"I don't mind. It'll protect the paintwork," Harvey said. He grasped the door handle and let go. The door slid upward. I stopped to watch it for a moment before getting in. The seat felt unusually low. Harvey raised his arm and shut the door after me. Then he got around to the driver's side and got in.