Morgan quickly looked in the teacher's lounge and caught the eye of Mrs Emmers, whose whole physiognomy radiated disapproval, and deflated visibly, the spark of rebellion, the thrill at the small transgression, snuffed out instantly. She had a way, with a word, with a look, to remind everyone who might be present that the English teacher didn't fall in line with her lofty expectations, and was to be carefully scrutinized. Ostracized, even. How Morgan hated her. Silently. Impotently. Mrs Emmers was part of the old guard, she was too entrenched, too powerful...

"You're probably right."

With a small frown, Morgan slipped out of the teacher's lounge, closing the door softly, before turning back towards Akira, who was holding pages from his essay in one hand.

"Oh, of course. I will take them, I haven't started correcting yet. I've been helping my brother prepare for the Flower Festival. Will you be attending?"