The little siren

Chapter 17

The time she spent suspended in the air or more precisely, falling, was a bit longer than usual, about 2 seconds, so she was thrown from a high place.

She hit the floor with her butt. It was an incredible sound. She bit her lips so as to not let any voice out.

It hurt so darn much.

She clasped her hand, there was something under it.

A white paper. One drop fell on the wrinkled paper absorbing the water rapidly, another drop fell, this time on her nose. She looked up.

A mass of water formed on the ceiling. It was the portal she was just pushed off. Ocean of darkness peeked her head and looked down at her, mockingly.

Did she just laugh at her?

Her eyes glistened with anger.

A rustling sound followed, her skirt weaving from the abrupt motion, she stood up and scanned the room, glaring at a particularly sturdy chair.

She didn’t think twice and grabbed the chair from the backrest with force.

The chair was lifted up at an angle similar to throwing a ball.

The door opened.

Her pink eyes met purple.

A tall, lanky man with spiky black hair and long white bangs stared. His glasses tilt to the left side of his face and the pipe on his mouth falls down from his lips and hits the floor.

They open their mouths at the same time.

Ah.

The chair fell from her hand and hit the floor very loud.

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He sat on his desk, the girl also sat on the nearest chair, it happened to be just in front of his desk.

As they faced each other, their mouths were tightly closed, waiting for the other to start. The man was tall so she had to raise her head to look at the same eye level. She noticed how the man scanned her, from top to bottom.

It was a burdensome stare.

-What were you doing with the chair?

The man asked. Crossed arms and back leaned on the chair. His demeanor made her feel like she was being inspected.

Like a criminal.

Of course, when he opened the door he must have seen a crazy person trying to throw a chair to the ceiling.

Even if he asked why she did that, she had nothing to say. It was an impulsive action.

-Can’t you pretend it didn’t happen? I'm ashamed you saw that.

She hoped he would just forget about it. Truly.

-I don’t think so. The way you held the chair was quite memorable.

…

She didn't want to hear praises for something so shameful.

-It was the same pose of an olympic athlete who's practiced to perfection. His tone as he spoke was that of joking, though his face was ironically serious.

She didn't know what an olímpic athlete was but it sounded like something grand. His words were out of proportion.

She lowered her head.

-Please, forget what you saw. I'm sorry. She pleaded.  Her face turned red from embarrassment.

-Well, it's not important now but… I'm conflicted. This isn't a good time for chit-chat. The man looked at the watch on his wrist. - Class is about to start.