"Here's the thing," The professor, Benjamin Tsai, slams his hands on the table and tosses the book and manga in front of us, with his eyes glaring at our face. "Although you won, that doesn't mean you two are perfect with your works!"
Winding time from yesterday, someone called and informed me the following day of having the student council position, of taking the additional prizes that I had received. Much to my surprise, it was our Science teacher who told me about visiting his office. He also said that I should include Nickson, since the two of us won the contest and grabbed the gold award.
"Um, is there a need for me to be here?" Roxanne mutters to herself as she plays with the cup, sliding it back and forth on the table. I don't know why, but my best friend sneaks herself between our problems, and now wanting to escape this conversation.
After this exchange, we will head over to the auditorium and make our speech to the rest of the student body. But for now, we need to deal with this problem, or a blessing in disguise.
So we are here right now conversing with the teacher, not knowing why we are even here.
"We already won, didn't we?" I wag my hands and point out the poster on the wall with our face representing the entire event.
Any more of these trivial matters would bring me to my grave.
Every student loves our stories to where they are running inside our classroom, begging to write some more or draw and continue the short story. As an author, I already know the protocol and decline their offer until now. Nickson, who seems new to this line of work, looks flustered every time someone walks up to him and praises his work.
"Can't we just have a break?" Nickson exclaims and looks at the window, averting his focus from the topic.
I understand his feelings well because I am in the same boat as him. We were both elected as the new officers of the student yesterday, and now something comes up for the second time.
"I can't just leave you be with these crappy stories!" Sir Benjamin confesses while flicking through the pages, rereading the dialogues and texts of our stories.
"This part makes little sense! And so does this part as well! The emotions you portrayed are weak to puncture my heart!" The professor adds before returning our works to the table.
Nickson and I twitch our eyes and continue to glare at the person before us. It is the first time that our ideas match as we think the same thing inside our mind.
"Say, Nickson, we can bury his body near the exotic plants. In that way, nobody would notice and start digging up the soil." I mutter to myself while flashing our teacher a sinister smile.
"I know we are not on good terms, but I accept your truce and your offer right now." Nickson cracks his knuckles and bares his teeth, looking menacingly at the unfortunate teacher before us.
Benjamin jerks from his seat and leans back, avoiding the invisible rays of anger beaming at our eyes. One small step will make us pounce at him with intense speed, so he knows what is coming at him when he escapes that chair.
"Listen, students, before riling up your emotions right now, why don't you listen for what I have to say?" Tsai runs his fingers at the manga and points at the face of a girl in the drawing. He then retraces the lines using his fingernail to mark the areas and explain his reasoning.
"Although the art depends on your style, I advise you to narrow the eyes of the male and curve it a little for the female characters. You beautifully made the sketch, and I will grant that. But you still have room for improvements to your manga." Benjamin then sweeps his hand over to the bubble where the dialogues of the characters take place. "The guy's sentence sounds off and unrealistic, and their exchange of vows or confession feels a bit forced than what you expect in actual life."
"Nobody would come up to a girl and ask for a one-night stand in a hotel, especially without consent. We call that rape, and we do not encourage that here." The professor adds as he finally closes the comic.
Tsai switches the manga for my short story novel printed out inside an envelope. It has a unique design that will almost feel like a letter of some sort sent by the father to his ill son.
"You made the story touching, and that is how short a narrative should be to the audience. However, your plot feels too weak, and the character build-up had never happened in the story." Benjamin continues to scrutinise my work with his constructive criticism. I want to retort, but my ears refuse my will as it continues to listen for what he is about to say.
"In making good, short stories-like any other form of narratives, the protagonist must have a goal. You had one and explained it. That was not enough to catch my attention. Because it was full of fillers and unnecessary scenes that did not belong in the story, so you need to remember that. I noticed you needed these memories for the plot but need to limit it to some extent and then slam the readers from your ending."
Instead of the boiling rage in pure hatred and anger, the two of us silently stare at the thirty-year-old man wearing his unironed coat. His words of wisdom bring us closer to filling the holes inside our book.
"How come you knew these with just a glance?" I am the first person to ask as I grip the sheets, trying to feel the smooth surface to calm my senses down. He may have read our stories, but knowing these elements that we lack required skill and analytic talent. Within two days, he provides us with detailed information that we need to improve in our short stories.
"Your writing style reminds me of someone I know. Ironically, the author shares the same name as yours, 'Yuki'. Although her works are outstanding to my eyes compared to other novels, I feel that the author severely lacks the grasps narrating other genres." Benjamin grabs the water bottle near him and drinks the entire container in one go. "Somehow, if you switch genres, you fail to immerse the readers to that different sensation. It's as if you don't know what you're doing."
"Nickson's style easily captured my eyes the moment I saw his manga. However, he had forgotten one flaw from his work, which is the dialogues of the story," Benjamin continues while glancing at the well-drawn image of the couple that Nickson created for the short story. "I find the plot good, and even the setting and the characters. However, there is nothing much the novel could offer other than its pleasant art. The quickest way to learn about correct dialogues is through experience or listening to someone else's story. "
With the way our professor tutors us with his evaluations, we now know more about what to do, henceforward to our career.
Truth be told that I am having difficulties coping with my stories. I feel that I have not expanded my visions and stick to what I am comfortable with within the plot. There was never a reason for me to explore new things, not until I now.
"Thank you for expressing what you think about our story." On behalf of the quiet Nickson, I lower my head and express my gratitude to our Chinese teacher. We are students in an international school, and I will encounter many foreigners along the way.
I take a glimpse of my vice-president and see him gesturing his head for a bow. Nickson is at a loss for words after hearing the lecture dedicated to us.
After some time, we finally hear Nickson's response, saying "Thank you" to sir Benjamin.
"I haven't informed you guys, but the prize includes being the club president of the Literature Club." Our teacher casually spills the beans and stands up from his seat. He then hands out a contract of some sort to the two of us, with a pen in his free hand.
"Please sign this up so we can officially make this club!" Benjamin appends and flashes us a smile.
"And what if we refuse?" Nickson simply utters while exhaustingly lifts his head to read the details of the contract.
But our professor is too quick with his hands and brings out another set of papers with the same content. Upon looking at it, I notice two familiar signatures written on each pad.
"I knew you were going to say that, so I had them prepared already!"
"You tricked us!" I wail out and furiously wave my hands. "We never had the chance to retaliate, do we?"
"Welcome to the club!" Benjamin's voice rings in my ear.