Accidents Made Right 1: Pistanthrophobia

Chapter 9: The School of Creation

We walked up to the entrance of the school, where I saw two big handles stretching across the door; both of them saying PUSH.

I tried to push the doors, but they wouldn't budge. I tried pushing with all my might, but still they wouldn't move. That's when Rowan pulled me aside, saying "H-here. Let me t-try."

Rowan then attempted to push the doors open, and did so with ease. Once the entrance was open, Rowan then bowed as if I was a king entering my throne room.

I giggled, then walked inside. The following room was a school cafeteria with two hallways in the cafe, each stretching out across the school, and with dozens of class and faculty rooms. The tables, walls, and ceiling were decorated with seemingly thanksgiving decorations.

To most people, the school would look pretty normal, but I'd never seen a school before then, so the sight of the cafeteria was shocking to me.

Once I was done gawking at the cafe, Rowan and I headed off to the first hallway.

How is Rowan so strong? Seriously, he's the same age as me. We should be equal in strength at the very least! This is weird.

Maybe it's just a case of him being stronger than you, and nothing more?

Okay, seriously, who are you? Whoever you are, you've been intruding my thoughts, and I don't like it.

Well, it's... complicated.

Try me.

Seriously. You're too young to understand.

I'm the fifth smartest person in the world at the age of 7. I think I can handle whatever your backstory is.

Not like that. You have the mental capacity, sure, but... alright, to be honest... I don't remember.

You don't remember?

Yeah. The only thing I know is... my means meant... Hope?

"Hey, S-Steve, you a-alright?" Rowan asked, snapping me out of my mental conversation.

"Yeah, I am," I responded.

...

"So, there's been something I've been meaning to ask."

"W-what is it?"

"You know how whenever you talk, you stutter?"

"Y-yeah?" Rowan asked, confused.

"Well, I was wondering, if you'd be okay with me helping you with it."

"W-why?"

"Honestly, I don't know. I mean, I personally like it, but-"

"W-wait, you l-like my s-stuttering? W-why?"

"Well, it's cute."

"C-cute?!" Rowan exclaimed, blushing like a sea of blood.

"Well, yeah," I said, not paying attention to Rowan's blushing.

"But I feel like you might be annoyed by it. The stuttering I mean."

"Y-yeah, you're r-right."

We had made it to the first classroom in the hallway, and we both looked up at the sign on top of the door which presumably said the classroom's corresponding teacher. The name was incredibly long, and didn't seem to be American.

Or at least not modern-day American.

I turned the door handle, opening it to see a classroom with around 20 small wooden desks facing a large, wooden desk at the front of the room. The chalkboard behind the desk was made of black slate stone, instead of calcium sulphate like today's chalkboards.