What happened to Tuesday?

2

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Conveniently, timed seemed to slow down for me during Spanish. Languages have never been one of my interests or strong points , so it's scary when a school makes it compulsory to take as one of your subjects.

But what's even scarier, is the fact that I learnt all this yesterday. Word for word. But You didn't have school yesterday dummy.

I procrastinate raising my hand.
"Ms. Yale, is this a revision period, or am I actually having-"

"No talking. But no, this is a new lesson. Why do you ask? I explained on Friday that we'll start the third section on basics." She huffs, clearly exhausted of dealing with dumb questions.

"Well... it's just I know what you've said word for word. I might not be the best at-"
"Okay okay, I get your good at whatever... just give me an example... let's just get this out of the way." The last part is barely audible, but I catch it anyway.

"Your going to ring up someone to fill in your position, whilst you hang around the back of the-"
"Goodness me! Stop talking, just stop!" I see a glint of embarrassment show on her face.

Everyone's stoped their note taking. Someone leans into someone else's ear while keeping their eyes trained on the teacher.

"What is she on?" Ms. Yale notices the whispers floating around the room.

"Everyone back to work!" her finger jabs are directed at my forehead "you are going to detention during lunch, for violating the school values." Great.

The rest of the period my eyes are glued to the clock, only blinking when Ms. Yale raises her voice for no apparent reason.

I glance around the room, taking in the ridiculous 'learning environment' the school somehow managed to conjure.

Some of the posters need to be moved to year one classes. Also, Ms. Yale has some random-
"Yes please, thank you so much." She suspiciously places her phone faced down, turning to look around the room.

She catches me staring blankly at her that alters her expression drastically. What is she up to now...The colour from her face evaporates instantly, like she just realised her husband hit the cat on his way to work.

A tear trails down her face, scaring me. Am I making her cry? I shake my head in confusion, twisting my face in question to Ms. Yale. She frowns leaving the room with a hand covering her mouth.

Everyone's eyes follow her out the door, morphing their own faces to match mine. I sigh heavily, surprised no even one person looks at me. Shifting my weight in my chair, I stare back at the clock, accepting the challenge.

5:27
5:26
5:25
5:24
5:23
5:22
5:21
5:20
5:19
5:18
5:17
5:16
5:15
5:14
5:13
5:12
5:11
5:10..

The ratty old bell alarms, catching me off guard . Hmm, clock must be slow. I spin my wrist to read my watch. 11:05. Have they shuffled around the bell times, or am I just overthinking this.

I notice a difference in the glass covering my watch. A shadow like line runs along part of it, splitting into branches. It's cracked big brain.

I roughly stand up along with everyone else, the chatter volume increasing as students spill out if rooms all around me. The wind whips my face as I get out of the classroom, tousling my hair mockingly.

I take in the well known scenery of my school grounds in seconds, grateful that intervals mexist .Travelling down the stairs, I almost trip as someone rams into my shoulder. Strike 1. It takes a lot of control to not yell in their ear.

My feet hit ground safely, as I ascend across the courts towards the field. My hands find the cord of my ear plugs, struggling to manoeuvre it out of the pocket without spilling anything onto the concrete.

I plug the aux in, finding it hard to enter my password with one hand. Sigh. The things I struggle with. Wait, is my phone screen cracked too.. I trail my index finger along the thin seams, feeling the smallest difference on the surface. Darn.

It'll be fine for now, I'll just have to figure how to break the new to dad. He shouldn't be to mad, should he?

I glance at the young growth of trees I pass everyday. They must only be a couple years old at this stage, so I decide to plonk myself down and relish the crisp breeze and the plentiful shade.

This calls for sketching. But as I rest the book on my lap to let my mind simmer down, a group of boys come and sit awfully close to me.
One of them has their back to me, diagonal form the tree. The rest form a circle. Strike 2.

"Excuse me, but I wouldn't mine a bit of space." I blatantly let the words hang in the air for a couple seconds, not getting any of response, or even acknowledgement for that matter.

I mentally have a tantrum, throwing imaginary fists. A sigh escapes my mouth in defeat, knowing all to well that I'd never win this spot.

The sun blinds me as I awkwardly scramble to my feet to find another spot where I sit comfortably. My eyes roam the free spaces across the far fence line. To much work.
The spaces under the sheltered block of classrooms. To crowded. I scout a little more, catching a girl watching me.

Is this the first person to acknowledge me today? Well apart from my family- she opens her mouth to speak, but trips on her words.

I smile, ready to introduce myself, "Hi, I'm Ellie. Is it alright if I sit here." She nods once, taking further interest in the book she has clasped tight in her hands. I catch a glimpse. "That's amazing," She stares at me in bewilderment, probably annoyed at the thought of conversation . "You enjoy art?"
"Thanks, I've been working on this for a while. And yes, I do enjoy art." Words gradually come out of her mouth. what it fills me with isn't empathy, but how much we have in common already.

"When did you start school?" I asked, curious about the state of her uniform. It was dull like her eyes that bore deep into mine, almost as if begging for life back.

"I've always been here." She states, going back to the book in her hands. "Oh." The conversation ends all to quick.

"Well maybe we'll see each other later," I say, checking my watch. "But for now, I need to go to practice." She looks at me again, giving what looks like a sliver of a smile.

I head back around and through the sheltered block. My homeroom is on the upper level, accessible via the walkways run along the whole upper classrooms. The school is open, apart from the main foyer that holds most of the English classrooms and the main office. Other buildings and dean corridors are scattered throughout the school.

So I take a right around the bend of the block and pass through the corridor housing the technology rooms. As I near the glass door separating me from the second I.T room, my eyes spot paper taped to the centre of the glass patch on the door.

The technology program has been canceled today. Meeting next week Wednesday at lunch. Sign into your accounts at home and try complete some of your assigned tasks. If you need to, email me.
-Mr. Cromwell.

"Oh come on, not again." I whisper harshly to myself, grateful no one witnessed my outburst.

I sigh again as the bells shrill cry surprises me for the second time. No wonder time flies when your having "fun".

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This is the longest chapter I've ever written, (including my drafts) so....