Worried, you lean forward across your desk and tap on Margriet's shoulder.
She turns around slowly, meeting your gaze curiously.
"I'm sorry," you whisper, "What am I supposed to do?"
Raising her brow in surprise, Margriet turns around in her desk. To your slight embarrassment, the movement gives you a flash of the girl's uniform panties.
Margriet leans forward, and looks at you, whispering in her foreign tongue, "You're good at writing right? Don't you know?"
"I don't know what I'm supposed to do," you repeat.
She nods mechanically and reaches behind her, taking her paper and putting it on your desk.
Reading the paper is simply shocking – all it is a list. Every sentence begins with "I obey" and ends with either a teacher at the school, or a member of the faculty. It's amazing to see such a thing written over and over, and in such neat, precise writing.
Is this how the school keeps order, you wonder? By making its students submit to authority? That makes sense, actually. Make everyone a little more humble, and maybe it's easier to keep the peace?
"Thanks," you say, feeling a little confused by the assignment, but at least you know now what to do. |