"How could they do this!"
Furin furiously stormed into Zog's office, her high heels clacking authoritatively on the floor. For a moment, Zog thought his head teacher had arrived.
His neck craned back uncontrollably, as if to check for a sinister face secretly observing him from the back door's window.
'Oh, right. The office's back door doesn't even have a window.'
Furin snatched the cup from his desk and GULPED down a large glass of cold water, her chest heaving as she breathed.
Zog was curious about what had made Furin so angry.
The last time he'd seen her this worked up was during her "Break the Frame" art exhibition.
It was an exhibition of exploratory works by her and other like-minded artists, delving into painting styles that departed from realism.
They had held it several times, and each time it was thrust into the storm of the art critic world.
