I, psycho.

Chapter Fifteen

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"Today" Mrs Caroline Lu-Maine said walking down the mini aisle in the classroom during Literary Discussion class,
"we're going to discuss a poem by one of the bestselling authors the world has ever known, we," she swiped her nailed hands across the electronic pad in her hands and a file immediately popped up on the screen of the two hundred students in the room, "ladies and gentlemen, are going to the discussing 'When It All Comes Down' by Genevieve Maine"

Marcy cocked her head at me and raised her brows.

I continued to stare blandly at her.
After our little spat the other day, we had established a don't-do-more-than-required relationship, I refused to break the status quo just because we were discussing a book authored by my mother who was rumoured to be ailing from a strange illness and hasn't been seen publicly in.. years.

Whole most people might not know my background, she did.

And from the ungly twist of her mouth, she didn't like it.

Oh joy.

"Now, I am going to read out the peom" Mrs Caroline said, "and we are going to let it's meaning sink in for about a minute or two and then..." She got a nasty gleam in her eyes.

"Dearest students, today we're play a little game" she drew what looked like a pack of cards from her sleeves - seriously,she had pockets in their sleeves these days, I thought, my mind's brows raised, "these cards have the number one to two hundred on it, which ever number ends up being picked, whichever group whom the number belongs to will debate their opposing opinions.." she smiled cruelly, "publicly"

The crowd stirred.

She smiled in satisfaction, "yes, people, here and now, they will tell us exactly what they think of the book in none to small words, doesn't that sound positively mind-blowing"

While Mrs Caroline was in teacher-heaven, the students were mumbling and grumbling. Shifting in their seats and slouching like that would magically take their numbers away from the slot.

I swore.

Our number was three, t'was not a lucky number damnit!

I cast a harsh look at Marcy, she was nonplussed about the whole ordeal.
She was probably praying that we get picked, anything to put the lame girl -me- in her place, I guess.

"Settle down, settle down, no need to be so excited" she said, her wicked smile still in place, "I've sent the peom to your pads so you can follow my words with your eyes as you listen to me read it"

Standing on the podium, she cleared her throat and read;

"Long, long ago

In a land, beautiful and green with life,
In a world, strange and different from the others around it,

There lived a queen named Viola, who oversaw her people who a kind heart and a heavy hand,

She was beautiful,

She was lovely,

She was just.

  And then came war.

No, not to them,

but to their neighbors, a strange winged tribe who breathed fire and had impenetrable scales who fought against the dark mages who had created them,