Wretched Power | 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐏𝐎𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐒𝐎𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐓𝐘 (BOOK ONE)

| CHAPTER FOUR |

The first day of class dawned bright and clear. 

     Most of the seventh-graders had risen from bed two hours earlier than they needed to, just to be certain that they would pack their bag, look presentable, make it down for breakfast in time, and head to class, eager to learn. Lana was not one of those students. She found time management a difficult task, and instead of slowly sliding by, waiting for class to start, she was rushing around with her tie in her mouth, her satchel open by her desk as she shoved things in, and the top few buttons of her shirt unfastened, and her shirt not tucked into her black skirt. 

     She was the only person in the bathroom, hastily brushing her teeth to the point where she made her gums bleed. Spitting out the toothpaste and briefly rinsing her toothbrush under the running faucet, she wiped the excess water that poured onto her hand on her face, hoping it would wake her up. She rushed back to her dorm, dropped her toiletries in the basket to organise after classes, grabbed her bag and glasses from the nightstand and sprinted toward her first class in the chemistry building. 

     This is a rough first day. 

     Steven Meeks -- and the rest of the class -- were already sat in the chemistry lab, a partner by their side on the station. He perked up when he saw Lana quietly but hastily enter the classroom while the teacher had his back turned, his body toward the chalkboard. Lana dropped her bag and slid herself into an empty seat, acting as though she had already been in the classroom for the first five minutes. 

     Standing at the front of the room a blading, bespectacled teacher picked up a stack of textbooks and placed them on each desk in the first row. "I hope you thought wisely about where you have chosen to sit because you are sitting there for the rest of the year." 

     Lana took this opportunity to look at her partner, wincing and feeling her heart fall into her stomach as she saw the same Cheshire grin on George Hopkins's lips. 

     "Take a textbook and pass the rest behind you. In addition to the assignments in the text, you and your partner will also conclude a lab experiment from the project list together and report back to me every two weeks. The first chapter must be read tomorrow." 

     Lana glanced around at everyone in the classroom as she waited for a textbook to be passed to her table. Everyone seemed content with the amount of work and due dates, except one. She recognised the boy as Dalton from Mr Nolan's office. His eyes popped as he stared at the textbook in front of him, flipping through the pages and trying to find something he understood. He shot a disbelieving glance at the boy next to him -- who Lana recognised as Overstreet -- and both boys shook their heads in dismay. 

     Deciding to take a peek at the first Chapter, Lana opened her book and read the first paragraph. It wasn't anything Lana couldn't do, in fact, her brothers had started teaching her the first chapter from memory, she had a brief general understanding of what she was going to experience and expect. 

     The teacher's voice droned on, but the boys stopped listening somewhere around the words "the first chapter". Finally, the bell rang, and almost everyone from Chemistry move into Mr McAllister's classroom. 

     McAllister, probably the only Latin teacher in the history of contemporary education with a Scottish brogue, wasted no time in getting into the subject. He handed out the books and launched in, pronouncing common sayings in Latin and asking questions in Latin, expecting everyone to answer in Latin, too. After forty insufferable minutes of recitation, McAllister stopped and stood, facing the class. "You will be tested on those general sayings tomorrow, gentlemen. You have your work cut out for you." He turned and faced the blackboard as a collective groan rippled across the room. Before McAllister could begin round two and make his student's ears bleed, they were saved by the bell.