Chapter Text
Chapter One
I’ve always hated the school cafeteria.
Loud, deafening students hollering across the tables at each other. Teachers always monitoring for conflict or disorder. Always being harassed to eat that greasy, off-putting meal they referred to as food.
I rather preferred my own lonesome company over others. Thus, I sat alone, away from the clutter of students by the windows, and munched on my bagged lunch, my ears prickling at their shrieks of laughter that always overpowered and could never be suppressed by the heightened volume in my earbuds.
The heavily coated peanut butter and jelly sandwich tasted fine but stuck in my throat too often. I had no more water, and the thought of plain milk nauseated me. I pushed myself away from the lunch table and shook my empty water bottle at the teacher patrolling the exit. He could care less, as he nodded me away.
I stopped briefly at the bubbler upstairs, but my focus always drew toward the almost empty library. It was silent, as usual, as rarely did students offer to visit the library on their own time. No, it was only pleasant to go to photocopy during class. It had the aroma of aged paper, and it comforted me in a way.
The librarian acknowledged me with a nod, as I slid into one of the cushioned seats. I mustered up a smile, but she looked away. I sighed and pulled out a thick leather book from my bag, chewing on my pen as I flipped through.
I liked to write but the pages of my story do not compel me anymore. I feel astray as the plastic residue remains on my tastebuds—no more does the pen have words.
I frowned; on the margins were no critiques or scribbled thoughts but his handwriting. I considered tearing out the page but beneath his, my pen flowed with words:
Shadows clouded over her ivory skin,
a haunting look lingered almost eerily,
a fake smile concealed the sting,
her tears are clear, but her wrists are stained.
I rolled my eyes and crossed it all out.
I flinched at the school bell.
Through the library windows, I could see the hallways flush with chattering students and faculty. I grumbled at the thought of gym class but nevertheless headed down to the locker room to change.
The gym was rather vacant and void of much light. I climbed up the blue bleachers toward an isolated corner to settle myself into, fishing my phone from the pocket of my sweats to distract myself. A soft, irritated sigh billowed from my mouth as the gymnasium flourished with noise as it began to fill up with elated students.
And at last, Mr. Jennis arrived, attired in his usual polo shirt and shorts, shouting for all of our attention to mark attendance and participation points on his clipboard.
“Whoever is playing today, go and stand on the court line,” Mr. Jennis ordered, pointing to the painted white line on the floor after receiving looks of confusion.
I steered myself towards the middle of the gym and stopped at the line. Mr. Jennis continued his daily speech on the rules of the game and selected the teams in a slow, nerve-wracking manner before sending me to the other side of the volleyball net.
I nodded and positioned myself in the untaken spot in the front, bending my knees slightly to ready myself for the ball as it was launched into the air. And then, as the volleyball aimed toward my direction, I was thrust to the side, and Sally spiked the ball from behind.
I gaped at her, but she just sneered and looked away.
“Switch!”
The teams alternated their servers.
I blew the strands of hair away from my face and shifted over but no one served right away. I shifted uneasily at the pregnant pause, resisting the urge to twist my body around.
And then I was hit in the back of my head with a volleyball.
I crashed to the floor with a gasp, my hand grasping at the empty space around my throbbing head. I looked back and gaped at the server, to only discover Sally, my former best friend, standing with the volleyball back in her hand. She raised a fair eyebrow at me and winked, before raising the ball to serve again.