The Insurgence: Bleeding Silver

I Had An English Test Today

September 28th

"Does anyone know the funky song to remember the quadratic formula?" Mrs. Wood began violently singing a pitchy song while drawing out a messy assortment of numbers and letters on the board. She was talking too fast for me to understand what she was talking about nor have I seen most of the contents on that board before. I shuddered. I hate math.

I sat by myself in a lone desk at the very back of the classroom overlooking a sea of rows with students sitting— or slouching— at various degrees of interest. I could not believe how happy Mrs. Wood was drawing that equation and I wondered how many times she has written that same equation on that same board. I knew she'd been teaching for a while, she was older with dyed red hair that needed retouching, with a green dress on with a visible stain streaked down the front of it. I admire how happy she is doing the same thing over and over.

"Alrighty, who would like to demonstrate quadratic mastery?" She nodded her head enthusiastically with her arms outstretched as if waiting for someone to hug her. After a long couple seconds she dropped her arms, "Come on! Who is my quadratic king and queen!"

The class was scarily quiet. I just kept my head down. I was getting one of my newly famous headaches, right on time ever since the accident. And with the way these chairs were made my back was spasming— also a new feature from the accident. The lights seemed to turn a shade of green and the walls felt as if they were getting closer. I closed my eyes and shook my head, rubbing my temples to try and snap out of it until hearing my name snapped me back to reality.

"A-la?" She called again, mispronouncing it once again. "Haven't heard from you today, come on up and give it a try!"

Everyone's eyes were now locked on me, and their whisperings made my heart begin to race. I stood from my chair and slowly walked up front, staring at my feet. I came to this school having watched plenty of TV and movies to know what to expect but in a small town word travels fast, and somehow I got here with everyone deciding they already know everything about me.

I took the marker from Mrs. Wood's hands and stood in front of the gibberish on the board. Inhaling sharply I began to count on my fingers to try and start the problem when Mrs. Wood called, "You're not seriously counting on your fingers, dear girl?"

The class began to laugh now, and my brain felt like it was shrinking with pressure. I was frozen. Everything hurt. I might throw up all over this whiteboard.

The final bell thankfully saved me and I finally felt like I could exhale. I placed the marker on the silver rack of the whiteboard and made a run for it to get to my stuff before Mrs. Wood could snatch me. The colors of the lights were back to normal, and I felt secure in the classroom. But I definitely wasn't going to pass this math test.

Walking down the hallway to the common area where all the students met up and mingled, I noticed a large poster hanging from the second floor balcony. The picture was of a student in his band uniform and thin glasses, holding a shining gold something. His name read Brayden Hayes in large yellow print and below it was a date. May 20th 2005 - September 27th 2022.

My mouth parted and I looked around to see if anyone else noticed the poster or was talking loud enough about it to answer my question but everyone was laughing, chatting with their friends as I stared at this boy. He was my age and he was... dead. And no one seemed to notice or at least care but me.

My mind instantly went back to the day of the accident, bubbles forming in my stomach and making their way up my throat. I clutched my notebook harder to my chest and forced myself to walk away from that area and into the guidance counselor's office.