THE WESTBURY HIGH FILES

Three /Amelia

It felt unnatural wandering the halls of a grieving school. Everything was loud, but silent, it haunted me. It takes two to make a friendship, to keep a secret, to have a bonding experience. The entire school saturated with sadness tore me away from possible friendships. It had been months. I was beginning to wonder if it would have been better to stay at The Academy. The halls were ghostly quiet in the early morning. Pacing and pacing, passing the same window seven times. Eight times. Philosophy class didn't start for another half hour.

            I don't believe I ghosts; I don't believe in most things. Love at first sight, god, fairies. Juvenile, to me at least. I have a philosophy that if these things existed, there wouldn't be poetry or prose to conduct fictional wonders like them. I've been called a bit of a wanker. Ghost, ironically, was the perfect description for me. Not quite there, drifting in between. I was still in the transition period with nothing to ground me. Fake friends piling up, vacant smiles and dead eyes. I kept pacing the hall like I was trying to run from something. I stopped and looked up at the streams of light casting great glows to the lockers. There was a sad-eyed girl at the end of the hall, books held close to her chest. It looked like she was hiding. I may as well have someone to haunt if I was going to be a self-proclaimed ghost.

            Classroom stuffy, tucked away upstairs in the main building. It had narrow windows and a musty smell, like someone tried cooking a handful of dust. Room M15 felt like a medieval prison cell. Brick walled and never warm, the carpet was scratchy and the windows high out of reach. If I believed in ghosts I might have thought it a ghost's dwelling. But I didn't. That was fictitious. The sad-eyed girl was sitting on the other side of the room. She had never spoken in class. I take that back, she did talk in this class, but usually through her joint-at-the-hip friend Harry. I knew Harry. He had played guitar in the jazz band for the beginning of year assembly. He was always tired and always had a coffee cup in his hand. The girl was a contrast; perfectionist, not a hair out of place. She wore the socks pulled up to her knees. No one does that. Not even the school captains do that. Harry was everything she wasn't; messy, disorganised. I could tell just from the single sheet of paper and chewed up pencil on his desk. Shirt buttoned wrong. Hair needed a wash. He was drinking coffee, of course. The girl didn't look like someone he would be friends with, but who am I to judge? Friendless weirdo.

            I wasn't in the mood for a Socratic seminar. Ms Ivor had begun, PowerPoint presentation reader and a stern look in her eyes. We were discussing identity and technology. I stayed quiet.

'The Turing test says a lot about what could be the potential for AI in the future. Could we beat the test? Is it possible? It's hard to say.' Aamon said. There was some more chatter, I wasn't paying attention. The conversation shifted;

            'Would that mean our minds could be crafted? Or is the mind a separate being. I personally believe in a soul as I find it hard to believe this is all we know.' Diana said. Diana always had something to say on the spiritual side. She was worried that she wouldn't make it into heaven if she didn't defend her beliefs. I was worried I would be alone at lunch again. I gazed my eyes over the class, Harry locked eyes with me, he furrowed his brow like he was confused. Maybe I had a mean look on my face. Resting bitch face Ma called it. I called it perpetually annoyed. The debate got heated and the room got louder. Harry got distracted and I went back to waiting for class to end.

            'Quieten down everyone, in philosophy respect is vital to encourage civilised conversation,' Ivor spoke above the noise. 'I think it best to steer away from the subject of death in this class, for the time being, Aamon. Out of respect from the current events.' Aamon had brought up Gina. I was away for the assembly. Got the news second hand, like most things. I didn't know what to think. I don't think anyone did. It made this whole new-school new-me experience harder. Ivor handed out homework and the class was over.