David likes achieving.

David likes knowing that he has been putting his parent's money to good use. He likes waking up to the assurance that he's likely to grow up with a good career. He likes the appreciative albeit brief glance he shares with the teacher as he grins politely back.

Hearing all these, one would think David was a good boy- a normal one.

David likes that he accomplishes what every parent wishes their child could do. He likes the envious looks directed at him, quickly masked by utter despair at their own lower scores. He likes the spite, the hatred, the fear that grows behind his classmates' eyes because they know he has the potential to be great- greater than every single one of them.

But David was charming and nice and polite, so they befriended him. They didn't know David. David didn't know David.

It was one afternoon after Math that the Mad Hatter finally reared his ugly head.

The teacher had announced there was to be a pop quiz. David beamed, fully prepared. He quickly fingered through the neatly arranged books and papers in his backpack, searching for the calculator he'd be needing. He looked and looked and looked.. it wasn't there. He was certain it wasn't there.

David inwardly screamed. Where was his calculator? He was sure he didn't leave it at the dorm. Not anywhere. He distinctly remembered putting it in his bag and he distinctly remembered not taking it out. So where was it?

David's forehead glistened with sweat. The moment he had received the paper, he visibly blanched. The damn test practically required the use of a calculator, otherwise you were doomed. He spent the entire period drumming his pencil, looking down and darting his eyes left and right in desperation. David couldn't believe he was cheating. He could only hope these idiots beside him were right.

He ended the test looking pale, tired and absolutely livid. The teacher cocked a brow at him. He simply glared in utter misery and defeat.

Suddenly, someone was calling him from behind. Turning, David's eyes flared. There was his calculator, being waved in the air like some flag. David was red with rage. Hastily, he walked towards the boy and calmly ushered him out the building. He then brought him to the most secluded area in Dalton and without warning, bended back the boy's fingers- one by one- until a delicious crack resounded in the humid air. David's eye lighted with satisfaction as the boy's pained cries pierced his ears.

He told the boy that it was his fault. It was his fault David failed.

The boy asked him if he were crazy. All he had done was try to give back the calculator he had borrowed from David yesterday.

Hadn't he realized? David was crazy right from the start.

Since then, David has sliced open a stomach for when his partner forgot to bring a frog. And he's cut off a few toes for when a boy intentionally tripped him during their practical test in PE.

David threatened all of them not to tell. They knew David had the potential to be great- greater than every single one of them- so they never spoke of the incidence. They all knew what he was capable of.

They told people it was the result of freak accidents.

Since then, David has been getting better grades.

After all, David just likes achieving.