ೃ⁀➷ 𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐎𝐟 𝐍𝐞𝐰𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐒𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 ੈ✩‧₊˚

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 ✫

'91

✫

The classroom occupied students, not making a sound, letting their pencils and erasers do all the talking on their stacks of paper. A tall, skinny individual wearing formal attire strolled down the rows of students inspecting the top of their desks, ensuring no one copied down answers or any other forms of cheating.

While everyone was trying their best to come up with answers for this pop quiz their teacher decided to hand out due to their usual lousy behavior, Dream was busy eyeing the clock on the wall on top of the door. She stared at it hard, thinking it would magically move its hands to show the desired time the longer she watched with a resting bitch face.

"All done, Ms. Karter?" A hoarse voice questioned, briefly ending the silence in the quiet environment.

The teen quickly looked over to see the older male hovering over her with an intrigued expression. Though Dream was known for getting good grades in his class, he had doubts that she could pass a fifty-question quiz by just answering them in five minutes successfully.

Dream nodded with her bottom lip tucked in, keeping her eyes on that same tick-toking item. The teacher, still unsure, decided to settle with her nonverbal response, swiftly grabbed the papers from the wooden desk, and headed back to his seat.

She didn't even use the elimination method—truth be told, let alone attempt to answer the questions correctly on the quiz. She just circled random answers, not even looking at the questions, and kept it pushing.

What was more important to her was for that black circular object to strike three o'clock so she could handle something lingering heavy on her already scattered mind.

Dream felt a pair of eyes staring at her occasionally as time passed, but she paid it no mind to it.

Finally, after ten minutes, the handles on the clock abruptly stopped at a designated hour, leaving the bells to blaringly ring inside the classroom.

"Alrighty, everyone, have a good weekend. Make sure to read chapters thirty-three through forty for Monday's discussion." The man sitting behind the long table farewelled.

Most of the class were scribbling last-minute answers to get a decent grade, asking questions, or packing up their stuff so they could go home, but Dream just got up, leaving her personal belongings, and speedily walked towards the exit.

She heard her name being called several times by different voices, but she ignored it. Nothing—or no one, for that matter, was going to interfere with doing what she had been contemplating for the past few months.

Out in the crowded halls, Dream managed to maneuver smoothly through the large crowds of students making their way to their lockers—using her small size to her advantage and squeezing through.

She frantically searched the narrow halls for the person of interest the further she traveled, but unfortunately, no luck.

"Dream!" A male's raspy voice called out, getting louder in her ears as they got closer, "I kno' what you're about to do. I can see the look in your eyes. But just know that it ain't worth it—"

His positive attempt to get through to her desperately failed as she pushed the poor boy into a set of lockers—head first, leaving him to whine and massage the area of injury as he was in pain.

Hearing anyone's rebuttal was unnecessary, as her decision was final and could not be changed. She was on a mission, and she was going to complete it by any means.

Students of all grade levels started to catch wind of the fierce look in her eyes, marching with a purpose and trailing behind with nosey intent, figuring something was about to go down—badly.

Reaching the double doors, Dream menacingly smiled as she saw the person of interest through the windows standing near the lines of buses.

She said her thoughts out loud, "Bingo, bitch."

The individual was outside talking to her friends, whom Dream disliked passionately.

Dream's fans—aka the considerable crowd she's gained, watched with anticipation as they saw her push open the rusted doors with such aggression, following closely behind with curiosity written on their faces as they saw her approach the fashionable trio.

Two out of three looked over, soon casting smirks on their faces as they saw the commotion, leaving the third one to pause with her speech and turn around—her braids swinging in the process, to see what had their sudden attention.

Her confused expression soon became amused as she stood over Dream, slightly looking down to stare at her angered face.

FREEZE FRAME !

Now, you may be wondering, how did we get to this point, author? What's the 411? You just threw us straight in here with no background info whatsoever.

To rightly answer all of your valid questions, we would have to go back. Not all the way back—that'll take forever, and too much trauma to indulge in.

But a few months back, on the first day, Dream attended this particular school and the reason for it.

Speaking of Dream, I think it would be best if she told you the story personally since it involves her anyways.

Without further ado, let's take you back to how this madness even started...

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