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THE MATERIAL OF her shirt seemed to be suffocating. She sat quietly, leg bouncing up and down furiously beneath her desk as she picked at her nails. On the outside, Lucia sat with a poker face, emotionless and steady. In her inner-reality, her mind was astray with the ever-growing urge to run away and scream to her hearts content.
It was fifth period. Luckily enough, Lucie was one of the few juniors who had five periods instead of six, meaning she was able to go home in less than an hour.
The day had gone smoothly. Well, aside from the very public break-up and endless circulation of rumors from her fellow peers that she's witnessed all day, but still, it's gone smoothly.
Listening through syllabi, going through awkward ice breakers, and sitting beside random individuals she didn't know considering the fact that Lucia's only friends were older than her, the first day of junior year was simply okay.
That was until fifth period. Strolling in nearly late thanks to coming from P.E., Lucia barely paid mind to those around her as she walked focused on fixing her hair after it'd been collected in a bun for the past hour. She took a seat in a middle row, ensuring to sit at the end. After three years of trial and error, she found that this was the best choice of seating.
She was able to pay attention but also stay secluded. Besides, teachers never paid much mind to her as she was out of sight so she'd never have to actually participate.
But as she settled into her U.S. History class and attendance was being taken, Lucie nearly choked on her own spit upon hearing a familiar name.
'Richard Bowen' was called out followed by a feint, and rather bored, 'here' in response.
She took a moment to settle herself, straightening up before glancing around the room inconspicuously. Her eyes darted across each row, looking for the familiar head of hair but she quickly came to the conclusion that he sat somewhere behind her line of vision.
And so Lucia sat rather stiff, nearly forgetting to reply once her name was called but as soon as her voice filled the room, she winced. Truthfully it shouldn't matter, they hadn't talked in over a year. Ricky didn't care, he shouldn't care, and as long as they didn't have to interact things would go smoothly.
But no matter how many times Lucie repeated these things in her mind, she couldn't get over the prickling anxiety that sparked across her body and left her chest feeling heavy. She cursed her last-year-self for choosing to take the regular history class instead of the college level course for junior year.
She figured it'd be good enough to take AP Language and keep her other classes at honors level. The mere regular course history was to look out for her future self knowing how her previous upperclassmen always complained about how hard AP U.S. History was. She even took Nic's advice, his words of how many nights spent taking countless notes and still bombing the tests were enough to convince her.
