Hidden Cliques (WIP)

Chapter I

October 8th, 2015

Avery

Music: Fortress - Gradius II NES

When I think back to all that's happened to me in the last 7 months, I feel like an actor in some insane TV or movie series. I've been kidnapped and rescued, stranded at sea, hunted for treasure, and chased down a vicious criminal. Any person having to deal with just one of those things typically gets a lot of fame, let alone all of them, let alone a thirteen year-old kid. I have to remind myself every now and then that all of that has actually happened.

Of course, all of that only accounts for about 5% of the last 7 months of my life. The remaining 95% has still been everyday routines: school, eating, activities, sleeping, etc. A month ago I helped my friend bring a wanted felon to justice, and right now I'm sitting in 6th hour Spanish class. It really does dilute the excitement of your daily life.

It is nearing the end of the period. I've finished about half of the vocab assignment and plan on doing the rest during the 20-minute "Tiger Time" period after 7th hour. With just a couple of minutes left, my classmates are starting to pack their things. Our teacher pulls up a picture of his 2 month-old infant boy on the projector, something he's done from time to time. As expected, much of the class swoons when they see him. There's just something about babies that's just so pure and sweet to look at. All they know is eat, poop, sleep, and cry. When they're not peeing or puking all over you, they are quite adorable.

Then you have the "intellectuals" like my friends Sam and Heath, who both point at the picture and simply say, "That's a baby." They like to describe themselves as realists. I prefer the term "nimrods".

"Yeah, little John's been settling in with us. My wife's saying he inherited more from me than her," our teacher says.

"That's not what I heard," Sam whispers to Heath. Whatever this means must only make sense to boys like them, because while they start snickering with each other, I'm rolling my eyes and sighing.

The bell rings, and everyone exits the classroom. As Sam, Heath, and I enter the hallway, I say to them, "Y'know, I give Luke a hard time for being an idiot, but I seriously don't know how I put up with you two, either."

"Hey, you asked to be in our group," Sam fires back.

"That, I did," I sigh.

"You saying you have second thoughts?" Heath asks.

I give them a fake smile. "Not anymore."

"Alright, I'll catch up with you guys later," Heath says, heading off to his 7th hour class.

"See ya," Sam replies, waving. Sam and I also have 7th hour Advanced Studies History together, which is just a few feet away from our Spanish class (and our lockers), so after switching out our binders at our lockers, we make our way over.

On the way there, we pass by two classrooms across the hall from our history class. The first isn't important, but it's the second one that makes me stop. I shake Sam's arm to make him stop as well, point inside the classroom, and whisper to him, "Hey, that's where that Spanish substitute teacher everyone is talking about teaches."

Sam gives me a confused look. "I don't follow the gossip crowd, Avery. You're gonna have to fill me in."

I explain the situation to him while we walk inside our history classroom and take our seats, which happen to be next to each other since our last names are close to each other alphabetically. "So, a couple of girls on the cheer squad have her. Apparently, the regular teacher had to go across the country to visit a dying relative or something. From what I've heard, the sub has been acting very strange, and not like how a teacher should act."

Sam shakes his head. "Avery, you know it's not nice to spread rumors about other people, especially adults."

"Oh, quit acting like you're the angel child here," I snort.

"I'm just saying, it just sounds like standard gossip."

"I never said it wasn't. I'm just telling you what I heard."

"Well, do we know anybody who has that teacher?"

Luke

Music: Hellraiser - Nemesis 3 MSX

When you've seen the shit I've seen, it's hard to switch into the mindset of being an 8th grade student in public schooling. I'm forced to repress memories of seeing people impaled, blown to pieces, and gasping for their last breaths, and I'm expected to sit through seven hours a day of lectures, taking notes, and worksheets as if I were just a regular person. My other friends have adapted just fine, but that doesn't stop the extra attention or the unnecessary asking of questions. It's even worse for me particularly because of my prosthetics, which just raises conspiracy and fuels speculation.

Ahem. Anyways.

I'm sitting in 7th hour Spanish, which has already undergone a massive change this semester due to a new substitute teacher. Thankfully, they were able to get a sub that is also trained to be a Spanish teacher, which makes it much less sufferable. The class is still a drag, though. We go over some vocab and do vocab practice for the last ten minutes of class. Not exactly thrilling, but I needed something to fill my schedule.

Our vocab practice segment begins at exactly ten minutes to dismissal. Most of the class gets straight to work, and a couple of students decide to mess around on their phones or Chromebooks instead. I try to do a little bit of both; trying to get some work done while also exchanging memes with Heath on my phone.

Once everyone is focused on what they're doing, that's when the teacher–Mrs. Hudgins–gets up from her desk and exits the classroom with her phone. On any random day, this isn't anything to take much notice of. I've had teachers leave to take unexpected phone calls before, but this teacher does it constantly. The familiar tingling in my leg returns, something that only happens when it feels like something's off.

There's only one other person in here who I feel safe speaking about this to–Elle, who sits right in front of me. I tap her shoulder to try and get her attention, and she ignores me. I try shaking her instead, and this makes her swivel around and hiss, "Luke, I am TRYING to do my work here!"

"You've got more than enough time to do it later. This is important," I reply.

Elle grumbles, then scoots her chair closer to me so we can talk without anybody else hearing. "What is it?"

"Mrs. Hudgins. She just left again. Didn't give any reason why. Isn't this starting to get weird?"

Elle shakes her head, frowning. "No... why would you think it is?"

"This is the third time this week. Yesterday she was gone for almost fifteen minutes."

"Too bad this isn't college, huh?" Elle murmurs.

"No, I'm serious. C'mon, you're the most paranoid out of all of us. If anybody should be concerned, it's you."

"Okay, ouch."

"You know what I mean."

"Look, she's probably got other things she does outside of teaching that she needs to deal with. Maybe she has a second job or something. Whatever it is, I doubt it's any of our business."

I grab Elle's arm and look her straight in the eyes. "Elle, I once failed to trust my gut quickly enough, and it nearly was disastrous. This teacher is giving off obvious red flags, and I don't want to make that mistake again." Elle doesn't know what I'm referring to, and for now it doesn't really matter.

"What do you think she's up to?"

I look back at the doorway. Mrs. Hudgins is still on the phone, but I get the feeling that she's aware of the suspicion that something's up with her. She's not even facing in our direction and it feels like she's watching us. "I don't know. But I'd rather not wait to find out."