Assassination Classroom Author Novels & Stories

Jinni sat in the middle of the classroom, she liked being in the group of boys who were popular and giving her opinion on the topic that was being discussed. I turned my head sideways, the classroom was somewhat empty, I think it's normal for these things to happen. It is the second week of school and not everyone attends. Especially Max’s death. At that the professor arrived, a rather tall man, with properly fitted black pants, very polished brown shoes, a sash with zigzag engravings, his pink and white striped shirt, oval glasses, and a steely watch; he carried a leather briefcase in his right hand. He went to the desk, opened it, and took out a blank sheet of paper, closed the briefcase a

FML. “But how did you get caught, sis ? I can’t imagine anyone finding out what you did ?” he asked. He look so perplexed because except for the Stone family and a few trusted warriors of our pack, no one had been able to figure out the culprit of my high profile assassination assignments till date. Not to toot my horn but I was that good. “The new teacher threatened that he won’t overturn our punishment given by the previous teacher if the culprit did not step out and for the sake of the class, I confessed,” I replied to Kai’s question in a small voice and started sobbing again. I am so pathetic. Someone just kill me.

He explains how brutal Vincenzo the mafia lord and the General’s only daughter Aurora love tale end and the whole class were captivated. I sat in the front row wearing tight black bomshorts that hugged my ass and thighs, paired with a cropped white top that showed my stomach. Looking as usual hot, I don’t care about what he was teaching all what was ringing in my head was….. breaking him. He closed the book when the time was over. “Course rep. Collect all the copies of assignment and bring them to my office after this period. The rest of you are dismissed.” Chairs scraped. Students stood. I rose slowly, stacking the thick pile of papers they summited.

It was just like opening a window into a life she no longer belonged to. “I get it.” Her voice cracked. “This whole thing is insane. And it’s not over yet, is it?” “No,” he said quietly. “It’s not.” She looked up at him, tears brimming in her eyes. “Why me, Nicholas? Why did this happen to me?” He didn't know what to say. He was fascinated by the coincidence of the striking resemblance of Amelia and Allison and the fact she was the one who witnessed the assassination. Something was telling him it was Adrian's handwork though he didn't have any proof.

Well all the assasins he had in the room at the moment were all psychopaths who takes joy in their trade. The appearance of Freckles at the weapon room where Lightning was about to exist startled the both assassins but it was Lightning who was the first to react and before the scrawny killer with a lot of freckles could react his throw was slit and left to fall to the ground with a fixed shock expression.

The professor moved to the front of the classroom once more. “First on our reading list for this class will be a book by one of my favorite authors- Lupita Addams," he announced. "It's called Dawn." The girl who had introduced herself first smiled, blushed, and looked as if she might faint from happiness. She whispered something to the girl seating next to her who giggled. “Isn’t she pathetic?” Ruby muttered as she flipped open her notebook. "Looks like she's about to ask for his autograph." Professor Cassian began teaching.The classroom had never been so quiet.

“I see, ‟ said the vampire thoughtfully, and slowly he walked across the room towards the window.” The old professor scanned the crowded lecture hall from behind a dark brown wooden lectern. “How many of you can tell me what book starts like that? Raise your hands.” Perched on a comfortable cushioned seat in the top row of the amphitheater-style classroom, Leesa recognized the quote. She looked down on a sea of raised hands, amazed at how many seats were filled. Close to a hundred kids, she guessed, twice as many as in her other classes. Except for her row, which was only about half full, there were few empty seats. To her left, a group of seven or eight guys and girls clad in black were clu

I tossed my canvas bag onto the desk in the middle of the classroom. There were still a few minutes before class started; I only hoped Ms. Elliot would show up on time today. As students trickled in, Ms. Elliot entered the room—good. Neatly dressed, alert, looking like she wouldn’t run overtime today. She began lecturing on existentialist literature, and yet a faint prickling sensation crawled up my spine. It felt as though countless tiny needles were pressing lightly into the back of my neck. I tried to ignore it, but the discomfort rose like a swelling tide.

She huffed, “all self taught. I never had anyone to ask to learn from or such. I only learned what I was able, while on the run. Before then I couldn’t even read anything or do much math. What difference does that make?” Wolferan spoke, “it doesn’t. I was just surprised by it. Most who never were taught never could read to begin. I never learned until someone sat down and taught me. It makes me wonder if you had been taught, would you have been a scholar instead of an assassin.” Leanunya looked at him, “I doubt it would have made much difference.”