Experiment Scarecrow

Chapter 5

Unfortunately, the day following turned out to be Monday; something Brooke forgot, forcing her to attend to school.

Rumors whispered through the halls, spreading like wildfire--each a speculation of Olivia's injury. Some students used it as further confirmation of the legend's truth, while others believed it was just a rabid, rampaging animal in the woods; one the police could not quite discover yet.

But the majority believed Olivia fabricated the story of her injury, and instead had injured herself to gain attention to claim she survived the murderous being's attack.

Many classmates stopped Brooke in the narrow halls to barrage her with questions, but the same question continued to pop up in the group--was the story true?

In response, she would avoid details, giving the same story she told her mother at the hospital.

"She was cut by a barbed-wire fence."

The group of students would exchange looks of disbelief, scoffing at the claim.

"No way. I heard she was cut clear to the bone. How sharp was that barbed-wire fence?"

The day dragged on with the same, continuous questions about her friend--her absence striking curiosity among their classmates. But thankfully, the torment ended shortly with only a half day. Each Monday was for Braylon High School.

Brooke's eyes continued to flick toward the clock high on the wall a few feet in front of her; the last class of the day pressuring the urgency to return to the church. 

But it was math, and with the teacher's monotoned voice, it seemed to drag on; the clock's minute hand ticking by at a sluggish rate, as if in slow motion.

Sitting at the desk near the front, placed at an angle to the door, she began to subconsciously tap her pencil on the notebook; eyes remaining fixed on the clock. Slowly, her vision began to blur, ripping her from reality as the tapping of the pencil forced her teacher to stop her lesson--arms folding to send a glare toward Brooke.

The teacher remained silence in hopes of drawing her attention, but it only seemed to draw the class's attention to Brooke instead; following their teacher's gaze as the muffled tap, of the pencil colliding with the paper, continued to echo off the walls of the small room.

"Ms. Whitlock? Could you please  stop tapping your pencil against your notebook? It is quite distracting," she commanded, her tone exasperating.

Brooke blinked, forcing herself back to reality to finally meet her teacher's disapproving glare. "Oh... sorry." The pencil quickly fell from her grasp, instead folding her hands in her lap to refocus on the board ahead.

A gentle sigh escaped the teacher, her expression softening while a few students, in the back of the classroom, snickered amongst each other.

Her cheeks began to burn, forcing herself to glance toward them, spotting one boy in particular. Noah.

One of the typical blonde, popular jocks, of the senior grade--her  dreadful grade. He tossed the thin locks of hair out of eyes, continuing to laugh among his group of friends until he noticed Brooke's stare, scowling in return before refocusing on the teacher, so she could continue.

A frown crossed her lips, quickly whipping back around to keep her expression hidden, sinking down into the seat. He  was the reason everyone laughed at her, for any form of mistake she made--the sense of security always leaving her when he arrived.

Just as the dull voice of their teacher began to continue, the shrill ring of the dismissal bell reverberated their eardrums at the strike of one; sending each student to desperately rise from their seats and scramble toward the door, including Brooke.