Proliferating Ambience of Confusion

I sighed at the sight of Mr. Wong entering the class. Through the few months having him as a teacher, I found it easy to read his expression.

It wasn't the expression on his visage that smother my cheerful mood; he wouldn't start a maelstrom today, I'm very sure of it.

It was that stack of paper he held in his hand, which sent shivers down my spine. How I wished I could grab it and burn it (oh, before that, tear it).

According to HIS tradition, he likes calling us out one by one. If you're the first one being called, there are 3 scenarios you might face.

1. Mr. Wong congratulates you (he arranged from the top scorer to the lowest scorer)
2. Mr. Wong gives you a look with malice welling in his eyes (he arranged from the lowest scorer to the highest scorer)
3. Mr. Wong doesn't speak (he arranged it randomly)

It's amazing how he managed to find time to arrange our papers according to our marks.

I closed the collection of short stories and novels by W. Somerset Maugham with a light *smack*. Took out my Add Maths notebooks and calculator, and waited for what might befall me.

He started from Wai Loon. It's like a hint, he's starting from the top scorer and digging down.

There were a couple of names before he finally called mine.

I muttered, "Shit," and walked to get my paper. I was about to take it from his hands when he tightened his grip of it and said something to me.

Mr. Wong: What happened to you? You did very badly this time.
Chery: Sorry, sir. I sorta pani--
Mr. Wong: I was expecting you - and Wai Loon - to get highest marks.
Chery: *smiles sheepishly*

He stopped. I took my paper again but he gripped it firmly still. "What does he want now?" I said silently in my heart. Although barely a second passed, it was like hours of torment standing there, holding my paper in silence.

Suddenly, he pointed 2 fingers at the marks written on my paper and said, playing his fingers, "If it's the opposite, I don't mind la~"

He was, as usual, himself. Only Mr. Wong could utter something like that. I didn't know I was smiling, all the way back to my seat that grin hung on my face.

A mixture of emotions flooded my heart. It's hard to explain how I felt. It was something like a bowl of mix-vegetable salad. They are of the same kind of feelings, but each tasted slightly different.

I couldn't tell, whether it was cheerful or putrid. It was so mixed up, like a pool of dark water, so complex and fathomless.

Should I be sad or happy about this? I don't know. 47% really is disheartening. But something just restrained me from feeling that way. I don't know what is it. And I guess I never will.

P/S: I've finished reading 'Twilight' and craving for the next book now!! It's beautifully written(Edward Cullen... *faints*)...