Chapter 19: Personal Assistant
Andrew stood at the front, his hands gesturing with practiced enthusiasm as he painted a vibrant picture of the "All You Can Do" club. He spoke of exciting activities, unexplored environments, and a sense of wonder that he claimed the rest of the world had tragically overlooked.
Manon's gaze felt glued to the sleek face of her smartwatch. Every two minutes, her fingers would subtly flick her wrist, her eyes scanning for the telltale notification of a new mission. Nothing. Just the relentless crawl of time and Andrew's overly cheerful voice.
She let her gaze drift towards Andrew, a prickle of annoyance beneath her skin. Even though she was new to this whole "club activity" thing, she had a strong feeling it shouldn't involve this much… talking. It felt like watching paint dry, only the paint was Andrew's endless monologue.
As if sensing her simmering impatience, Andrew's eyes flickered in her direction. A smile stretched across his face, but it didn't reach his eyes. It was the same unsettlingly knowing smile Ray had worn the first day they met – a smile that hinted at something beneath the surface.
"Manon," Andrew's voice cut through his own presentation, a deliberate drawl.
Manon's head snapped up, her gaze sharp enough to cut glass. Don't you dare.
"Relax," Andrew said smoothly, extending a hand towards her, a silent invitation to step forward. She hesitated, her feet rooted to the spot for a heartbeat, before a reluctant sigh escaped her lips and she pushed herself to her feet.
Standing before the group, the weight of their collective gaze pressing on her, Andrew's expression shifted, becoming unreadable. His usual open demeanor was gone, replaced by a closed-off stillness. "I'd like you to choose our club activities," he announced, his voice even. "I'll give you the grace of one week."
Manon's jaw tightened. "I will not. What is your job as club president if you're avoiding your responsibilities?"
Andrew's eyebrows furrowed, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. "Manon, you don't get to choose. You have to do it."
"I will not," Manon repeated, her tone laced with disbelief. Where did he even get this sudden burst of… authority? she thought, her mind reeling.
The other club members sat in silence, their eyes darting between Manon and Andrew, the air thick with unspoken tension.
Andrew took a slow, deliberate breath. "Because," he said, his gaze locking with hers, "you are now my personal assistant."
Manon's eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat. A ripple of murmurs went through the seated group, their silent observation suddenly charged with surprise. Manon tried to speak, to form a coherent question, but her mind felt like a tangled mess of confusion. "Are you… are you serious? I don't… I don't understand what you're saying. What do you mean, assistant? How—"
"I'll give you two days to think about this," Andrew interrupted, his voice leaving no room for argument.
Manon stared at him, her initial shock hardening into defiance. "I don't want to be your assistant."
"Manon, two days," he repeated, a hint of finality in his tone. "Then you can decide. See you on Wednesday, then." He turned to the rest of the group, a practiced smile returning to his face. "The meeting is adjourned. Have a wonderful day."
Manon glared at his retreating back, her fists clenching at her sides. Never in my life has someone – how dare he? Assistant? I'd rather join Andrien's boring bird-watching club or… or even Robin's ridiculously competitive rock-paper-scissors league. Each step she took as she left the room felt heavier, angrier than the last.
Ding! A new notification illuminated her smartwatch.
Information on new mission: As the new official assistant of the president of All you can do club, your new mission will be given after you have chosen your first activities. Good luck, Manon!
Manon blinked at the screen, rereading the message, her thumb swiping up and down as if the words would somehow change. Ten times. I've read it ten times.
I don't understand what's happening. This can't be real. I… I just don't believe it. She walked numbly through the hallway, the usual sounds of students fading into a distant hum.