Down Memory Lane ✓

8- The Artwork

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The Artwork

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MY THROAT felt like sand and the massive lump that formed hadn't moved from its place in my stomach. This made the thought of food unappealing.

Yet, I headed to Corral—Ralcor Hall to meet up with my friends as we did every day during lunch and sometimes, during dinner.

Everyone was at our table. Naomi, Kai, Rhys, and even Mariana. I would say it surprised me she was there, given how she up and left yesterday.

Kai was looking at me with concern in his eyes and took my hands in his once I sat down before he gave them a little squeeze.

"This was not your fault," he said. He knew exactly what I was thinking. "I'm always here if you wanna talk," he added, and I could only nod in response.

"Well, at least we won't be getting those devilish assignments and projects," Rhys said, a poor attempt to lighten the mood, but Naomi swatted his arm.

"Emrhys Author Jones!" Naomi shrieked.

"Yikes," Kai cringed.

"That is a very poor joke, Jones. She's dead."

"Exactly!" he replied, and Naomi only gaped at how nonchalant he was being.

"Geez!" he said, raising his hands, palm out, and at his sides. "I never knew you cared so much about Mrs. Morris. You should have told me she was your favorite teacher," Rhys said, a smile playing on his lips.

But I didn't get Naomi's reply as I zoned out of the conversation.

True, only a few liked Mrs. Morris. The murmurs were just from the shock of it, even at that, the shock didn't last long.

I wouldn't bet on it, but it wouldn't surprise me if the counselor didn't receive anyone seeking to talk about the unfortunate incident. Even some teachers felt she was too full of herself, but something about death puts life in a different perspective.

We wake up each day and some of us don't even acknowledge the benefits we have. We jump straight into our lives, head first, and put more focus on the sour parts of things and the things we lack, spending most of our lives in worry about the things that aren't right in them.

Hearing of someone's death, especially someone you knew, even if you didn't like that person, hits differently.

I know I should listen to Kai, that this wasn't my fault, but me being the last person she talked to before they rushed her to the hospital and thinking of the conversation we had, it seemed too much to be a coincidence.

I couldn't get her words out of my head. They probably made you forget.

Who were they? And how did she know them? I needed answers.

"Clara," someone called, and I blinked out of my reverie to see them all getting to their feet. Around me, people were leaving the cafeteria.

I looked down at my tray of fries, which were now empty, but I don't remember eating it.

"Figured you weren't eating that. Now I've got to go burn it out later. You're welcome," Rhys answered the question of how it finished before he left.

I stood and grabbed my bag, realizing lunch was over. The others walked ahead, and as I was about to leave, Kai held me back.

"Clara, I know something's bothering you. I can see it's eating you up, but you know you can always talk to me, right? I'm here to listen to whatever it is," he said with his brows slanted in concern as his hand rested on my shoulder.