Miss, Do I Know You?

12 - Thursday, November 19

Bitter temperatures, for me, meant melancholic gloominess. The frigid embrace of impending winter wrapped around me, and the barren and dreary landscape rubbed off on me, penetrating deep into my bones. Icy fingers sought to claim me, rendering me defenseless against its relentless grasp and leaving me depending on the substances coursing through my veins, a gamble that could go either way and leave me in a state of calm or nausea.

Each step felt like an enormous task, my limbs weary, head spinning with fatigue, and my stomach churning with sickness as I wearily trudged through the hallway toward my imminent detention. Expecting to find the usual quiet atmosphere of Alex sitting at her desk and working, I pushed the door open, but the room was full to the brim. Curious gazes met my entrance, unfamiliar faces mingling with those I knew, their attention focused on the mess scattered across the desks.

Among them stood Sophia, cutting through a piece of cardboard and throwing a laugh my way. "Girl, what's got you looking like a walking corpse?"

I tossed my bag onto an empty chair, pushed back the waves of nausea, and summoned a smile. "Pacer tests."

"Ah," she breathed in recognition. "Can't take a little torture?"

"Not this kind."

When I saw Alex approaching me, I shot her a teasing smirk to figure out if I had somehow stumbled into an alternate universe. "Did you start an arts and crafts club?"

A single arched eyebrow greeted my words. "Do I strike you as the type to do that?"

"Honestly, yeah. You were always the artsy type."

Sophia added her voice to the conversation, "It's for the Winter Ball."

My confusion deepened as I turned back to Alex, who answered my unspoken questions without them needing to be asked. "Since the teacher responsible for it is on sick leave, I'm in charge of the student council for the next weeks," she explained. "And you're welcome to help since you have no tests coming up."

I offered a wry smile. "Is there anything you can't do?"

Her tattooed fingers reached for a pair of scissors, extending them toward me. "I'm not a very good singer," she said, "but I am quite good at noticing when someone is attempting to flatter their way out of work."

"I must warn you that I still haven't emotionally recovered from the great scissor accident of seventh-grade art class. Scissoring anything has never been the same for me."

As Sophia's hand flew to her mouth in a reflexive gesture, suppressing her laughter, Alex fought valiantly to maintain her stoic facade. But in a heartbeat, her sternness crumbled. Curious gazes converged upon us, witnessing a rare glimpse of our usually serious teacher.

"What?" Alex half-whispered, clearly trying not to laugh. "What's wrong with you?"

"I don't know. I just made that up." I shrugged. "And it might have come out very wrong."

Her smiles subsided as loud voices erupted from the back of the class. But before I could look, Alex's voice had snapped my attention back to her, the entire class falling silent. "I distinctly remember telling all of you to stay quiet," she said, voice resolute but laced with a dry wit. "If you don't want to listen to me, then don't, but at least keep your mouths shut and let everyone else do their work, okay?"

Suppressing a laugh, I turned my gaze toward the source of the disturbance. However, as my eyes fell upon the unruly pack at the back of the room, confusion settled. The group's impudent mirth had evaporated and been replaced by stolen glances and masked disdain, but amidst them sat Olivia. When her gaze collided with mine, a shift occurred—a momentary hesitation that softened her expression before she averted her eyes and joined the laughter that swelled once more.