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Chapter 21: Classroom Whispers

  Raven’s eyes fluttered, a muted gaze following little purple-blue music notes dancing with sparkling atoms in the air, moving to their own melody despite the harsh, muffled background sounds.

  Raven used to imagine she was one of them—swirling and twirling right there on top or beneath.

  Dreaming, creating melodies pleased not only to the ear but to the heart too.

  ‘Oh, what a spoiled brat I have been,’ mouthed Raven, her upper lip pulling lightly upwards, stopping midway through the motion to nibble on her lip instead.

  Since the moment Raven sat down and her breaths had evened, the only thing she could sense was the music of her own stars.

  Her eyes still wandering, a louder sound pushed through from the front: “Raven, did you hear what I said?”

  Raven’s pupils widened, notes disappearing and the heads of various students reappearing.

  If Raven was to be honest, she had no idea what Mrs. Lessly was talking about.

  Another loud huff shot quiet shudders all over Raven’s back as she finally noticed the silent gasps around her.

  As the attention drifted from the teacher to her, some faces barely hid their snickers.

  The atmosphere that vibrated through the room clawed at Raven’s windpipes, tightening the icy grip on her lungs.

  Mrs. Lessly scrunched up her nose, glaring down at Raven, observing the proceeding silence.

  “Ms. Storm, I believe I have told you to start reading the sonnet.”

  Raven sighed, briefly closing her eyes. She never meant to ignore Mrs. Lessly or, worse, insult her—yet here she was.

  She just didn’t know what to add or explain about her situation without drawing more attention.

  So she said nothing, hoping the teacher would just gloss over it like most teachers did.

  ‘But of course, today she had to decide to act like a teacher,’ Raven clenched her teeth.

  It was an unwritten rule that the faculty stayed out of her way—if she did.

  And now the first period wasn’t even over, and her teacher was pissed at her. ‘Great plan,’ scoffed Raven faintly.

  She already knew she was on thin ice the second she had walked into class—eyes flickered in her direction, whispers starting.

  While Mrs. Lessly acted as if Raven wasn’t even there, Raven saw her shoulders flinch.

  Another problem—or more like the main problem—was that Raven simply didn’t have her exercise book.

  In truth, she’d taken nothing to school besides herself and her phone.

  She hadn’t even brought a jacket, let alone a bag. She was honestly surprised she even wore shoes in her hurry.

  It had all happened so fast, and before she knew it, she was sitting in her class.

  Raven could almost laugh out loud at herself. ‘Definitely not my brightest morning,’ thought Raven as her traitorous heart clenched hard.

  If Raven had known her teacher would be in a mood, she would have stopped by her or Adelaine’s locker—she probably had a cover; their teacher wasn’t that creative.

  The same grade, the same assignments, no matter which course.

  And if not, a pencil and notebook should at least be there. Anything would be better than her current predicament.

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  Raven’s mind drifted further apart. `What if—what if the teacher would call—No. She wouldn’t. Mrs. Lessly wasn’t that spiteful… She wasn’t. Not over something this small, right? Yeah, right…,’ she resolved it for herself.

  Still, Raven’s stomach warmed—she should have known. This shouldn’t even have to be up for debate, ‘—yet it is .’

  Raven fiddled with her hands, her thumb picking at her cuticle under the table, until little tingles spread through her finger.

  Red droplets pooled from her nail bed. She flicked her tongue and pressed them with rough palms. “Get your damn act together, Raven.”

  Wherever she went wrong today or if this day was completely cursed didn’t matter. It wasn’t something she could solve currently anyways.

  What was important was Mrs. Lessly, who was about to bore a hole into her soul with her eyes.

  Raven avoided her direct stare, looking at a point on the wall just above her, absently licking her wounded lip, suppressing a hiss as she touched the irritated skin.

  Concentrating on the seething pain, she zeroed in on her teacher, meeting her probing dark green pupils hidden behind her thick glasses.

  ‘Now or never,’ murmured Raven inwardly.

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Lessly,” her voice firm. “I forgot my things at home.”

  This should do it. Raven swallowed hard—she was certain she had sounded sure and apologetic.

  Mrs. Lessly, on the contrary, pinched her brows tighter, pressing her already thin mouth into a sharper line.

  Raven eyed her. Big ginger curls, grey streaks, swarmed her pale, freckled face, and she wore a brown knitted top tucked into her skinny jeans.

  Raven didn’t know much more about her, besides that she was more on the messier side of the teachers — meaning she wasn’t that strict but easy to irritate.

  A quiet, particular combination, but nothing Raven couldn’t easily handle unless she had one of her moments.

  Nonetheless, on the ranking of potential danger, she was not a zero—no one was—

  even so she wasn’t a top priority Raven had to avoid more than a normal stranger.

  The longer Mrs. Lessly said nothing, the more it felt as if the whole room held its tongue, biting it down, jaws clenched, when Mrs. Lessly’s brows nearly met.

  “Well, fuck,” muttered Raven under her breath.

  Thankfully Raven didn’t have to sit any longer in this heavy state.

  Although Mrs. Lessly didn’t respond to her, she took her eyes off her, looking down at her poem and not sparing Raven another second.

  Before she called out another student’s name, the brunette student in the first row wasted no time and started reading the sonnet—the boy not daring to test the waters.

  Raven let her tense back fall onto the back of her chair, closing her eyes.

  ‘It’s over, lucky me, yay!’ rejoiced Raven, voice flat, shifting in her seat.

  For the rest of the class, no one wasted their time with her, and Raven didn’t provoke it.

  She hadn’t moved an inch more than necessary, closely staying in the darkness. She moved with the others.

  One could even argue it was like she had ceased to exist—that perfectly, she blended into the shadows.

  Time that formerly was running was sleeping; each minute dragged. Raven almost sprung when the clock started to ring.

  The class had ended.

  Raven had persisted. Though her throat was dry like the Sahara and her muscles moved like rocks.

  Yet her steps were fluid, and her spine pinned straight.

  But as soon as she stepped out of the class, she felt like all hardness had been drained from her muscles, making it harder to stay upright without hunching into herself.

  Every fiber felt jittery. The further she was away from Room 105, the lighter her steps felt, leading toward the bathroom.

  Raven needed to clean her face—another thing she had forgotten. It had stung all the way here, in class, and also on the bus.

  While it had formerly been numbed by her nerves, it pulsated now shamelessly on both halves of her face, causing her fingers to itch with the need to scratch it.

  Her face had left quite the work, and her right hand burned too.

  Raven moved in slow yet fastened strides, searching for the mostly abandoned toilet in her school.

  Inside the bathroom, the overpowering floral scent and the bright light of the chandelier blended her senses for a moment as she took a quick sweep over the room, making sure she was alone before daring to look into the mirror.

  The girl in the mirror looked back with dead eyes, wounded lips, irritated cheeks, high cheekbones and collarbones slightly visible with each shift,

  three piercings on the left ear and two on the right.

  Balling her fists, Raven averted her eyes. “What a mess.”

  Wasting no more time, Raven opened the pipe, warm water flowing onto her skin, tickling her punctured palm.

  The warm feeling lasted for a few seconds before Raven hurried to her face

  —wetting some paper and patting the sore spots, wincing whenever she tapped a pretty raw spot.

  After she was satisfied with how they looked, she brushed them dry, trying to blend them in with her face as well as she could,

  giving her mouth one quick swipe before quickly turning her gaze away from the big mirrors, already setting course towards her next lesson.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~

  Raven didn’t slow down as she treaded through the mass of bodies until she spotted the door of her Government class.

  Even if the first few steps felt sloppier than normal—her legs lacking the regular steadiness, the balance swaying with every inch

  —they later echoed clearly with the others on the old stone tiles in the halls.

  Her pace was deliberate and precise, holding her afloat.

  Her skin, however, burned, her chest felt tight, and her formerly softened hand had clenched again.

  Each shove and push felt like another prick into her ribcage.

  It was like Raven was dog-paddling in the mix of odors.

  The stench was everything from exclusive aftershaves with a hint of fresh citrus to sweet limited-edition body sprays.

  Raven scrunched up her nose and avoided heavy crowds as much as possible,

  but if she had to choose her poison, it would rather be this than being confined any longer with her teacher

  — worse, getting hung up by another student.

  So each day she paid the price for her quiet minutes of solitude—rest.

  That’s what you get for being greedy, cursed Raven to herself.

  It was common that most students didn’t directly walk to their next respective class in the short 10-minute break after every two periods.

  They rather lingered in places like their halls or stayed at other places—stalling time with their mates.

  It was also unusual for them to gather in their class.

  In fact, most teachers behaved the same way, which caused the planned 10-minute break to usually extend to 15 minutes, cutting the lesson short by another five minutes.

  Softly heaving, Raven finally reached the class, swinging the door open.

  The moment Raven stepped into the room, she was blindsided by beaming rays of the sun—

  A bright yellow flashing across of her, slightly illuminating the shadows of her back seat as a fresh breeze swept through the open windows,

  making the curtains waver and reveal a shining yellow and deep blue—

  The sun and the ocean, blinking, glancing back at her, the end of his mouth softly curling upwards.

  Raven’s neck prickled as the air brushing over the raised hairs on the back of her exposed throat.

  From her distance, she couldn’t make out his exact features, although she was sure of what she saw.

  See you next week Monday or this Sunday!

  A Little Trailer:

  


  “Raven had foolishly assumed she would be alone… she had forgotten she had unwillingly obtained a puppy over the last few weeks.”

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