Padding the Gradebook

Chapter 1

In the hallowed halls of the prestigious Rawlings University, Dr. Emilia Carter was a name whispered in awe and dread. Her office door bore a sign etched in elegant script: Dr. Emilia Carter, Professor of Literature. Students knew better than to knock without an appointment; those who did were often met with a withering glare and a dismissive wave.

Dr. Carter was a thin woman, her frame wire-taut beneath her tailored suits. Her hair was short and dark, cut in a severe style that matched her sharp features.

As Jordan arrived for his office hours appointment, Dr. Emilia Carter had just finished scrawling an F across his most recent paper, her pen slicing through the page with the same precision she used to dissect students' work. She looked up, her eyes as cold as the steel of her pen, and said, "You're late. Again, Jordan."

Jordan offered a weak smile, pushing the door open wider. "Sorry, Dr. Carter. Traffic was a nightmare."

She raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Traffic? In this town? Mr. Evans, I suggest you start managing your time more effectively. Now, let's discuss your paper." She held up the offending document, her expression souring as she read the grade. "This is unacceptable. Again."

Jordan sat down, his broad shoulders slumping slightly as he avoided her gaze. The creak of the old chair seemed to echo in the silent room, the only sound breaking the tension. He could feel Dr. Carter's eyes on him, sharp as her pen, and it took all his concentration not to squirm under her scrutiny. Her office was filled with the scent of old books and dust, a smell that usually brought him comfort, but today it felt like a suffocating cloud.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you, Mr. Evans," Dr. Carter snapped, her voice cutting through the air like a whip. Jordan stiffened, his hazel eyes finally meeting hers. "Your work has been consistently subpar this semester. What is the problem?" She leaned back in her chair, her eyes never leaving his face.

Jordan took a deep breath, trying to find the right words.

But before he could speak, Dr. Carter slammed his paper down on her desk with a resounding thud. "This," she said, tapping the paper with her pen, "is not even worthy of a High School English class. You are a third-year university student, Mr. Evans. And yet, here we are, again, with you on the precipice of failing my course." She leaned forward, her eyes burning into his. "I expect more from my students, especially those who have the potential you do."

Jordan's cheeks flushed with anger and embarrassment. He balled his fists in his lap, trying to keep his growing frustration in check. "I'm trying, Dr. Carter. I just... I don't understand what you want from me."

Dr. Carter pushed her glasses up her nose, her expression softening slightly as his eyes were averted in anger.  "I'm not asking for the impossible, Jordan. I'm simply asking you to put in the effort and show me that you care about your work."

Jordan stood abruptly, his chair scraping harshly against the wooden floor. He looked down at Dr. Carter, a mix of frustration and desperation in his voice. "I can't do this. I can't keep up with your expectations. I'm not going to keep hearing empty suggestions from you, Dr. Carter. I just can't."

Dr. Carter's eyes widened, taken aback by his outburst. She opened her mouth to respond, but Jordan cut her off. "You know what? Forget it. I don't need your help, your criticism, or your pity." He turned to leave, and ignored the calls of the professor behind him.

Later, in his dorm room, Jordan was still seething with anger. He threw his backpack onto the bed, the thud echoing in the small, cluttered space. He paced back and forth, his muscles tensing with each step. His roommate, Matt, looked up from his laptop and raised an eyebrow.

"Rough day?" Matt asked, already knowing the answer. Jordan just grumbled in response, pulling out his own laptop and sitting down at his desk. He needed to vent, and typing out his frustration seemed like the best outlet. He opened his browser and began to scroll through random pages, his fingers tapping impatiently on the keyboard.

Matt watched Jordan for a moment before returning to his own work, muttering, "Whatever it is, just don't let Carter get to you."

Jordan snorted, his fingers pausing over the keys.

He knew better than to take out his frustration on social media or forums, but he needed an outlet. His eyes scanned the search bar, and before he could think twice, he typed, "How to curse someone for ruining my life." His heart pounded as he hit enter, and a slew of results filled the screen.

He scoffed, shaking his head at the sheer ridiculousness of it all. But as he began to scroll, something caught his eye. A post on an obscure forum claimed to have an ancient curse that could bring about change in those who deserved it. Jordan's eyes narrowed, and he couldn't help but feel a spark of intrigue. He clicked on the post, his curiosity piqued despite his better judgment.

The forum was a rabbit hole of strange stories and claims, but the more Jordan read, the more he found himself drawn in.

He skimmed through pages of comments until he reached the post claiming to have an ancient curse. It was simple, almost too simple. The post asked only two questions: "Who?" and "Why?" Jordan paused, his heart pounding in his chest.

He felt a strange mix of skepticism and curiosity. He was at a dead end, after all. What could it hurt to try? His fingers hovered over the keyboard, and before he could talk himself out of it, he typed, "Dr. Emilia Carter. She's ruining my life with her ridiculous expectations." He hit send and then leaned back in his chair, waiting. Nothing happened. He felt a mix of relief and disappointment. Of course, it was a hoax. He should have known better. But as he was about to close the tab, a private message notification popped up. It was from the user who posted the curse.

They simply wrote, "Weight and see." Jordan leaned forward, his eyes scanning the message, a chill running down his spine. He hesitantly typed back, "What does that mean?" The cursor blinked, waiting for a response. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, his inbox pinged again. The message read, "You'll see soon enough." Jordan's heart pounded, a mix of disbelief and excitement surging through him. He shook his head, trying to dismiss the feeling. It was just a stupid curse, a hoax at best. But as he closed the tab, he couldn't shake the sense that something had changed.