My mom can't possibly be this cute [Full text]

[Full Text]
Word Count: 15,000

When I got home from school, my mother was on the phone in the living room.

My mother's name is Xinzhui, and she's 44 years old. She's an English teacher at a nearby middle school.

Her hair is dyed light brown, she wears earrings, and her long nails are painted with bright
nail polish . Even without makeup, she's strikingly beautiful, but with careful grooming, she's even more beautiful.
She gives off a mature and alluring vibe, looking nothing like a middle school teacher. She's slender and tall, but her curves are
perfectly defined.

If she could sing well, she would definitely be a talented idol admired by male students.

This isn't self-praise; my mother is indeed an extraordinary person.

Of course, I don't mean to boast about my mother. Although many men envy me,
and I understand their feelings, I still have to say, "Don't joke around!"

Perhaps those with beautiful mothers can better understand my feelings.

My mother isn't as good as they think, at least not to me. It's actually quite understandable. My mom is the kind of person who's so popular

that students line up to ask her questions after class, making it impossible for the teacher to even get into the classroom for the next period. What's even more terrifying is that male students often write her love letters. Of course, most of them know that such futile actions won't bring them any of the results they hope for, because my mom is like a woman living in another world. She's the so-called "goddess on high." And most timid boys just think, "If only she would notice me." 　　Of course, I was like that too. 　　Imagine this goddess is your family member. Of course, imagine it while maintaining the distance of a simple mother-son relationship. 　　...How about that, you understand my awkwardness, right? It's not such a good thing, is it? 　　"I'm home 　　," I greeted her out of politeness. But my mom didn't react at all, not . Wearing headphones, a wide-shouldered tank top, and a miniskirt, my mom was sunk in the soft sofa, legs crossed, giggling happily at her phone, seemingly completely unaware of my presence . 　I was already used to my mother's attire. Although as a teacher, she should be a role model and mindful of her image, my mother is different. She studied abroad in her youth and was influenced by Western education, so her thinking has always been very progressive, and she values freedom. Even after returning to China, she didn't have a grand wedding. Now, although she's over 40, she still dresses very fashionably and casually. Of course, with a beautiful face, all of this is understandable. 　　That smiling face is indeed very cute, but I've never seen it before. Although my mother is progressive, she's still very strict with me. I guess if she knew I was here, she wouldn't have shown that cute smile in front of me. 　　Sure enough, when my mother saw me standing there dumbfounded, she immediately stopped smiling . 　　"Hey—? No way—? Why are you so late? Your clothes are all messed up? You look like an idiot." 　　Sigh, I'm the idiot for greeting you. 　　I cursed inwardly as I flung open the refrigerator door. I took out a carton of barley tea, poured it a glass, and drank it all in one gulp. "Ha—", I let out a deep, comfortable sigh and left the living room. 　　"Okay, okay... I'll go after I change." Mom whispered into the phone. 　　My dinner is still nowhere in sight, and I'm already going out? 　　Sigh, whatever, I'll just order takeout. It's not the first time anyway. I muttered to myself as I walked up the stairs. 　　My name is Tiger, and I'm 17 years old. I attend a nearby high school. Yes, that's right, the one. What's worse, my English teacher is my mom. 　　I'm just an ordinary high school student. I don't participate in any school clubs, and I don't have any noteworthy hobbies . Although I listen to pop music and read some novels and comics, I wouldn't call any real interests. 　　After school, I either hang out with my friends on the street chatting or stay home reading comics and watching TV . Occasionally... I study a little. 　　Isn't that what ordinary high school students do? You might think this kind of life is too stable and boring, but I think staying "ordinary" is important. 　　"Ordinary" means keeping pace with those around you and living a down-to-earth life. 　　"Stability" means less risk. 　　Fortunately, my grades aren't bad so far. If things continue like this, I might get into a decent university. But what about after that? Should I leave it to the four years of university life? 　　Anyway, I've long forgotten my childhood dreams… If I had to say, my dream would be to live an ordinary, unremarkable, quiet, and peaceful life. My 　　family lives in a very ordinary apartment building with an attic. There are four of us: my sister, my parents, and our Chihuahua. My sister is currently studying at a university in another city and doesn't live at home anymore; she only comes back during holidays. So, theoretically, it's just the three of us and our dog living at home. 　　It's a rather ordinary, unremarkable, and extremely common family. 　　My sister and I have rooms on the second floor. I changed into casual clothes in my room and rested for about ten minutes before going downstairs. I wanted to use the restroom before starting to study. The entryway is right next to the stairs on the first floor, and the door to the living room is on the left-hand side 　　as I reached the entryway, I bumped into my mother, who was wearing a black, openwork Peter Pan collar dress. This spot is a blind spot for both of us, a common place for collisions in the house. 　　With a thud, my left shoulder collided with my mother's chest. Although the collision itself wasn't a big deal, the force of the impact caused my mother's bag to slip from her hand, scattering its contents all over the floor. 　　"Ah!" 　　"Oh, I'm sorry," 　　I apologized sincerely, reaching out to pick up the fallen cosmetics and other items… 　　My mother noticed my intention and slapped my outstretched hand away. 　　"Wh…"

Under my mother's sharp gaze, I was speechless, dumbfounded.

Then, these words escaped her lips:

"...Okay, don't touch it."

With just that, my mother silently began to pick up the things that had fallen on the floor.

Ugh...so annoying...this guy... Doesn't want anyone to touch her things?

Is your own son that annoying?

I looked down at my mother, who was expressionlessly picking up her things.

"..."

An awkward atmosphere filled the entryway.

My mother, with her back to me, hurriedly put on her high heels.

"...I'm going out. Make yourself something to eat."

She mumbled something like she had completed a task, and slammed the door shut.

...Yes, as you can see, this is how my relationship with my mother is.

I'm not really angry.

Because I stopped seeing her as a traditional mother a long time ago.

Hmph, even if I can't communicate well with my mother, it doesn't affect my life much.

"...Sigh, when did it start to become like this?"

I always felt that she wasn't always like this.

Oh well, oh well. Although I was upset, I decided to let it go. I should just get back to what I was supposed to be doing.

After using the bathroom, I washed my hands and lay down on the sofa in the living room. I lay on my back, crossed my legs,
and grabbed a weekly magazine lying on the floor.

Huh? Wasn't I supposed to start studying?

Lying there, I flipped through the pages of a fighting manga, feeling completely empty. My rational
mind told me this wasn't the time for this, but a powerful wave of laziness was preventing me from doing anything.

Ah—no, no. I don't want to study.

This kind of laziness is probably a disease that all students suffer from.
Like , I shook my head a few times and stood up.

I opened the door and went into the hallway, where I found something strange.

"...Hmm?"

The thing was in the corner of the entryway, right behind a shoebox. Although I hadn't noticed it before, there was indeed
a thin, white, box-like thing sticking out halfway between the shoebox and the wall.

Reaching for that thing was probably an act of escapism. Because I didn't want to study, my brain
was always trying to find excuses to do other things.

Even if I found this thing, it would only buy me a few seconds of time.

But in reality, that wasn't the case. Thanks to this thing, I temporarily had no time to focus on
studying .

The moment I saw the object I pulled from behind the shoebox, 　　I screamed,

"...What is this?" The reason was that this thing was so out of place in my home. 　　This is... um—...what is this? 　　I held the box between my fingers, examining it closely, still unsure what it was. 　　It was a Blu-ray disc case, that much was clear. Because you see these kinds of cases everywhere in music stores... In fact, it clearly said "blu-ray disc" on it. But every single Chinese character on the cover still piqued my curiosity. 　　At that moment, my expression must have been one of utter astonishment. 　　The box had a picture on it, depicting a glamorous woman who looked like a teacher. 　　"Oh?!" 　　I muttered to myself. My eyes were like those of a detective examining evidence at a crime scene. 　　Perhaps it was a distinctive feature, but the box was predominantly white and pink. 　　That didn't really matter. The problem was, 　　"Why is this woman dressed like this?" 　　The woman's clothing was quite provocative. The background was a classroom, but she was dressed in what looked more like a swimsuit or bandages. In short, it was even less sensible than my mother's attire, making one want to advise her to wear something more respectable. 　　Something resembling a metal chain extended from the bandage-like bra, and a . 　　Moreover, she lightly held a well-designed whip in one hand, its rough design reminiscent of Whip's whip in KOF. It was clearly for combat, inevitably leading one to think of its horrific uses. 　　What a dangerous fellow. 　　7 And— 　　at the top of the box, in a smooth Western font, was what was probably the title. "Lucifer in Your Classroom? What's that?" 　I went upstairs, seemingly serious, but was it some kind of incomprehensible English movie? 　　"Wait a minute... why is there something like this here?" 　　Just as I stood frozen in the entryway, holding "Lucifer in Your Classroom," a huge question mark rising in my mind, the door slammed open in front of me. 　　"I'm home—hey, what's wrong, Tiger? Why aren't you studying? What are you doing here?" 　　"Don't worry about it, Dad. Just taking a walk." 　　That was close—!? I thought I was doomed. 　　But nothing went wrong; the instant the door opened, I ducked down and hid it under my body. 　　Whew... that was close. 　　I wonder who did this; maybe it was a trap set to frame me. If anyone saw me with this, I'd likely be the target of a family meeting. 　　My father, briefcase in hand, looked down at me with a reproachful gaze, staring at my strange posture. 　　"...I just heard from the lady next door that student counseling seems to be quite popular lately." 　　"Wait, wait...don't jump to conclusions, I'm perfectly normal. It's just...by the way, I overdid it ." 　　"You're talking nonsense. How could you possibly be under that much pressure from studying?" 　　That's really too much, especially for a parent. Can't you trust your child a little more? 　　"No, that's not true. You know my grades are pretty good." 　　"That's all thanks to the wonderful Manny, your childhood friend, who's giving you personal tutoring. Don't assume it's all..."

"It's all my own doing. When have you ever studied on your own?"

"Sigh..."

"Also, you need to listen to your mother more. As the child of an English teacher, your English is still so bad..."

He hit the nail on the head, leaving me speechless. Wasn't I reading comics just five minutes ago? I hid "Lucifer in Your Classroom" under my clothes and crawled away from this troublesome place

like a inchworm larva . But then I heard my father's voice behind me, 　　"Tiger, Dad doesn't really mind, but don't read those kinds of 'h' books at the front door, and whatever you do, don't let your mother find out!" 　　What a pity. As expected of my father, he could guess almost everything from my strange behavior. Although I had been "criticized" for hiding pornographic books before, what I was hiding under my belly now, in a sense, would be even more serious 　　if discovered . 　　After carefully brushing off my father, I hugged the book like a rugby player clutching the ball and ran nimbly up the steps. I rushed into the room, closed the door, and finally let out a long sigh of relief. 　　"Phew..." 　　I pulled the item out of my clothes, carefully holding it in my right hand while wiping the sweat from my brow with the back of my left hand. 　　Mission accomplished. I'm an expert at this kind of thing; I won't go into the reasons why. 　　I'm sure all you middle and high school boys out there understand what I mean. 　　"...Sigh, I got it back after all," 　　I muttered to myself, glancing sideways at "Lucifer in Your Classroom." 　　There was no other way in that situation anyway. I was looking for an excuse not to study, and I was genuinely interested in this item that "couldn't possibly be here." 　　For this reason, I had to abandon my exam preparation for today and decided to immediately begin investigating this item. 　　My room is about the size of six tatami mats, with a bed, a desk, and bookshelves and closets for storing reference books and comics. 　　There's a grass-green rug and blue curtains, and the walls are covered only with an ordinary calendar; there are no posters at all. 　　Besides that, there was only a small radio; there was no computer, TV, game console or anything like that. Of course, my sister's room had all of those things, but she locked her door before leaving home and gave the key to Mom, telling her not to let me in. 　　Pretty unremarkable room, huh? Because my principle is to live as "ordinarily" as possible, this suits my personality perfectly. 　　...Whose is this? 　　I mentally went through the faces of everyone in my family. ...Still couldn't think of an owner who matched "Lucifer in Your Classroom." 　　Hmm—...What's going on? Why is this there? Did it fall out of Mom's bag? 　　Just as I was pondering this, I opened the lid of the CD case, 　　"Ah...!?" 　　I was shocked again, even more so than when I first saw the case. 　The result was this: There wasn't a "Lucifer in Your Classroom" disc , but rather another similar disc. 　　...This is quite common. When listening to music on CDs, I often find it too troublesome to put each CD back into its original case , so I just leave them lying around. 　　After that, because I couldn't even tell which CD was in which case, it caused quite a bit of confusion. 　　The owner of this disc was probably just as lazy as I was, putting other discs—I don't even know if they were Blu-rays—into the case for "Lucifer in You Classroom." 　　Hmm—hmm—, I see. That happens all the time. 　　But—but… 　　why is the title of the disc inside "Falling in Love with My Son"? A teacher, a mother, and of all people, and I had to see it—what is this trying to do? 　　And what's with this seductive "r18" label? 　　"…Calm down…" 　　Cold sweat beaded on my forehead, and my breathing became rapid. 　　That was close. That was close indeed. If you ask me what was so close, it was that scene I just witnessed with my father. 　　If that thing had been discovered, I would have committed suicide, though of course, the possibility of murder couldn't be ruled out. 　　Although I didn't know much about this kind of thing, my instincts immediately kicked in. The dark, sinister atmosphere emanating from the title was truly astonishing... Even without the seductive label, just looking at the title was enough! This thing shouldn't be in my or my mother's possession... 　　...I'm having such a bad day... ...but it's all this thing's fault. 　　I stared at the mysterious disc. 　　"Damn it..." 　　Now that things had come to this, I had to find the owner of this disc to get my revenge. 　　I blamed the owner of the disc for my bad luck today and resolved to find him. 　　...But things became even more unclear. 　　If anything, it was the owner of this strange disc. Given the fact that the box containing "Lucifer in your classroom" contained the suspicious disc "Fall in Love with Your Son," if I'm not mistaken, the owner of this disc should possess both "Lucifer in your classroom " and "Fall in Love with Your Son." 　　Judging from the fact that the disc was found on the back of a shoebox in my house, the owner of this disc is most likely someone living in my house—my sister, mother, father, and me. 　　Of course, it's not like no one else comes and goes from this house besides family members, so we can't completely rule out the possibility of an "outsider." For example, Mom might have confiscated that boy's disc from class... well, who would put a "Fall in Love with Your Son" disc in the "Lucifer in Your Classroom" box?

" Take it to school

... Hmm...

Anyway, thinking about it from the perspective of an 'external culprit' won't help, so I've decided
to limit the suspects to my family for now.

Me, my mother, my father, and of course, my sister who's never home... If the 'culprit' is among these people
, then objectively speaking, who is the most suspicious...?
The person in my family most likely to possess 'Lucifer in Your Classroom' and 'Fall in Love with Your Son' is...

'Me? How annoying.'

No, no, definitely not. Of course it's not me. My reasoning just now was only from the perspective of who is most likely to possess these
things , but it's a bit pathetic that I can only deduce that it's me

. Anyway, those things aren't mine. Because I'm going through puberty, sexually aroused, but I've never
been interested in my mother. Although there are people in my class who are keen to talk about relationships, they basically don't
go as far as incest.

∩ Yes, aren't the other family members the same...?

I was baffled by this obvious conclusion.

Wasn't it true? First, it couldn't be my sister, right? She hadn't been home in ages, and the box and disc
were only recently released. Then there's my dad—a complete tech illiterate. Even if he
wanted to watch it , he didn't seem like he'd know how to use a media player.
It's hard to imagine my dad, with his angular, gangster-like face, appreciating pornography. And then there's my mom—she should be ruled out first. I remember
when my pornographic books were confiscated, she was the one who scolded me the most.

And one thing to note is that we don't even have a Blu-ray player at home—not in the living room, not in the study.
Even my sister, who's the most tech-savvy in the family, has her PS3 at school.

I simply can't imagine anyone in the family spending money on a disc to watch
something like "Falling in Love with Your Son." My mom would probably feel nauseous just reading the title. "Mom's a
middle school . She's probably out partying with friends today.

" "Sigh—I'm really fed up. I just can't figure it out."

My reasoning completely stalled. Maybe the culprit really isn't within the family, but if I
broaden the suspect pool to include outsiders, the list goes on and on. This

won't work. Looks like I don't have the talent of a detective.

So what should I do? It's so troublesome, should I just ignore it?

No… I still want to know, no matter what. I must find the culprit.

I find it unbelievable how proactive I've become. If it were me normally,
I should have given up now and slept until dinner. Later, I realized that if
I hadn't pursued it further, I would have continued my mundane life as before.

But things didn't turn out that way. Because I decided to continue investigating.
Of course , at the time, I didn't know that, for better or worse, I had already decided my fate.

Because of this incident, I stepped on a huge landmine—

it's 6:45 now. I scratched my head as I walked out of my room, intending to go downstairs to order
takeout . But I stopped halfway down the stairs. I saw my mother in the entryway.

...Ah, she's back already.

She probably forgot something important at school again.

By
the . I didn't get a very close look, but Mom's outfit was really appropriate, highlighting her graceful figure. If you said
she was a fashion model, you'd probably believe it.

...Isn't this cute?

But describing my mother like this doesn't seem quite right, especially since our relationship isn't exactly harmonious.

—Getting back to the point. I waited for Mom to move away from the bottom of the stairs halfway down.

"...Hmm?"

Something about her seemed off. The living room was just a door away, but Mom
wasn't heading there at all; she was just standing there blankly near the entryway.

...What's she doing?

I couldn't just stand there like an idiot, so I went down the stairs.

I stood in front of the door leading to the living room, my hand on the doorknob.

"..."

I suddenly turned my head.

"...Hey, what are you doing?"

"...Huh?"

I was glared at fiercely.

...Damn it. Knowing this would happen, why did I even talk to her...?

Am I stupid?

"Tch, nothing."

I said, forcefully turning the doorknob.

The takeout arrived quickly.

Pizza and drinks were already laid out on the table for dinner. The room where the whole family ate together,
being an open-plan living room, dining room, and kitchen, felt spacious.

I sat facing my parents at the table.

On TV, the news anchor reported on recent
events .

My dad ate his pizza heartily. He always came home, showered, and immediately went straight to his pajamas, looking like a gangster boss.
In reality, however, my dad was a policeman.

My mom sat silently beside me. She was generally indifferent to her family. Watching her eat
quietly , I couldn't help but think she was quite similar to my dad, especially her sharp eyes.

Our family at the table seemed like an extremely ordinary family. Ordinary, that's good.

I ate my pizza silently, observing the opportune moment to carry out my plan.

I'm talking about finding out who owned that disc, of course.

...Although it's called a plan, it's not really that impressive; it's just an extremely ordinary and simple scheme.
Simply put, further reasoning wouldn't lead anywhere, so I decided to find an
opportunity when all the "suspects" were present to make a show of force. And now, that golden opportunity was right in front of me.

After finishing my miso soup with clams, I casually asked,

"I'm going to the convenience store after dinner. Does anyone need me to bring anything back?"

"Really? Then bring back that ice cream that's been in all the recent commercials."

"Got it."

After ending my fruitless conversation with my mom, I casually said,

"By the way, some of my classmates are obsessed with a movie about a teacher. Hmm—I think it's called
something like Lucifer."

"Why are you suddenly bringing this up?"

My dad was the first to react to my probing. Could it be…?

“It’s nothing. He just said it was really interesting, and I thought it wouldn’t hurt to watch it.”

“No way! You don’t have time to watch movies right now! Doing your homework is the important thing! Right, Mom?”

Mom didn’t respond to Dad’s suggestion. I secretly glanced at Mom sitting diagonally across from me.

“…”

Mom bit her lip tightly. Perhaps because her whole body was too tense, the tips of the chopsticks in her hand
trembled slightly. …Huh? Hello, hello…?

“…Xinzhui?”

Dad noticed Mom’s unusual behavior and called softly.

“…I’m full.”

Mom stood up angrily and strode out of the living room.

She slammed the bedroom door shut. Then came the sound of her running back to the downstairs bedroom.

“…What happened…? Your mom…?”

“No, I don’t really know…”

I casually brushed off my surprised dad. To be honest, I really didn’t understand.

…Why is she so angry? That girl… What did that conversation do to upset Mom? If she's the "
culprit" and sensed my probing…

"…Sigh…"

But… Mom's reaction was definitely unusual. …Perhaps she really slipped up under my probing
.

Of course, I don't think that's enough to identify the culprit. Just considering the suspicious aspect, there are other suspicious people
in the house … Could

the owner of the "Lucifer in Your Classroom" I found in the entryway

really be… Mom?

If we assume Mom is the owner of the disc, then many things make sense.

It probably fell when I bumped into it in the evening. When the things in the bag spilled out, the disc
landed right in the gap between the wall and the shoebox.

Then, after Mom arrived at her destination, she opened her bag and realized it was missing.

So she searched for it in the entryway before dinner…

To add, if, as I suspect, she put the disc in the wrong box,
then Mom wouldn't have taken "Fall in Love with Your Son," but rather "Lucifer in Your Classroom
."

...But what could possibly require me to take that thing? This question was beyond my
comprehension.

I muttered to myself,

"Okay, I'll go to the convenience store now."

...Looks like I'm not cut out for acting. Oh well, I never expected it to go so smoothly anyway.
It would be surprising if they actually took the bait.

Thump, thump, thump, thump, I deliberately made a lot of noise as I went downstairs, slamming the door shut.

After leaving, I walked towards the convenience store for a while, but when I reached the corner, I didn't choose the path
leading to the convenience store. Instead, I took another path and circled around to the back of the house. What are you doing? Actually
, nothing much, just thinking from the perspective of the "culprit." If Mom were the culprit, she'd probably already
realize I found that thing.

So, what would I do if I were Mom?

The best course of action would be to take the thing back when I wasn't looking, and then pretend I knew nothing
—that would definitely be it.

Mom's usual calm had vanished; something was clearly wrong. In that case—she might not be able to
resist searching for that disc while I was out. Therefore, although the chances of her taking the bait were slim, I still set
a simple trap. "No, she wouldn't take the bait no matter what... How could she...?"

Muttering to myself, I returned home through the back door and tiptoed up the stairs. Then I suddenly opened
my bedroom door.

Huh—! …

"…Hey…What are you doing?"

"…!?"

Ah—! ? No, it can't be real, right? She actually appeared… This girl.

Is she, is she really that impatient? You bastard.

My mother was kneeling on her hands and knees in the middle of my room. Startled by my voice,
she turned her head, pale-faced.

She was clearly terrified. But her gaze, still like that of someone looking at a bastard, pierced my
heart like a knife.

"...Did you hear me? I'm asking you what you're doing."

"...None of your business,"

Mom said through gritted teeth, still facing the door. Perhaps due to nervousness,
her breathing was rapid.

"...How can it be none of my business? Barging into someone else's room to search...
How would you feel if this happened to you?"

And your hands are in the wrong place, searching everywhere, why did you have to go through my secret library?
Because of this unspeakable indignation, I coldly retorted.

"..."

Mom turned her head away without a word. Perhaps due to anger, her face flushed. Then she
silently and slowly stood up and walked towards me.

"Move aside

." "No. Answer my question—what are you doing here?"

"Get out of the way!"

"...I know, you're looking for this, aren't you?"

Facing my mother's angry glare, I hesitated for a moment, but slowly
pulled the box of "Lucifier in Your Classroom" hidden under my clothes. My mother's reaction
was dramatic.

"This is...!?"

"Hey!"

My mother reached for it with lightning speed, but I dodged it.

I pretended to be smug, patting the back of the CD case as I said,

"Heh heh, this is yours after all."

"...How could that be?"

My mother replied, extremely displeased. Hey, hey...I'm saying, your words and actions don't match at all.

"Isn't it? I found this in the entryway this evening. Wasn't it
something you dropped when we bumped into each other?"

"Absolutely not...It's not mine. Then...how could I possibly want to see something like that?"

My mother showed no intention of admitting anything, and this was going to be a never-ending drama.

"If you weren't looking for this, what were you doing in my room?"

"...It's because...it's because!"

"It's because? Because of what?"

Under my persistent questioning, Mom fell silent again.

"..."

Mom's shoulders trembled slightly, she seemed to be biting her lip in resentment, her head bowed.

Clearly, my relentless questioning had deeply humiliated her.

No wonder, it felt like someone I hated was smugly saying in front of me,
"Hey, this porn book is yours, right? Hehe." I would be furious and mortified in that situation
.

"..."

Mom stared at me with the eyes of an enemy, her hostility blatantly expressed despite her silence
.

...Bastard. Why was Mom looking at me with such hatred?

Ugh...this is getting more and more absurd... I clearly don't care about this guy anymore,
so why am I doing this self-defeating thing?

Oh well!

"I'm done playing! "

I shoved the box into my mother's arms. Her eyes were still filled with disgust as she looked up at me.

"It must be something important, right? Here, take it back, keep it safe."

"Tell me, I said it wasn't mine… I confiscated it from a student in my class."

"Then you'd better return it, or get rid of it."

"Huh?"

My mother looked at me, confused.

Why did she look at me like that? I didn't…

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