Unlucky: Luxury And a Lies

Chapter 32: The Fake Version Of Me Minji's POV: She's Confident

The teacher paced around the classroom, capturing everyone's attention with his words. Mia, seated beside me, listened intently, her eyes focused on the teacher. I, on the other hand, sought refuge in the depths of my hoodie.

"For today's assignment, I want you all to write a poem," the teacher announced, his voice commanding the room. I maintained my invisible presence under my hood.

"But here's the catch," he added, as he passed by me and flicked the hood off my head. I frowned, and a few of my classmates chuckled at my sudden exposure.

"I want you to write a poem about yourself in which nothing is true," he continued, his challenge hanging in the air. I fiddled with the revolver gloves that adorned my hands, contemplating the unique task he had presented.

Mia, ever eager, raised her hand. I glanced at her curiously, not knowing what she was about to say. "Yes, Mia?" the teacher acknowledged her inquiry.

Mia lowered her hand and asked, "So, you want us to lie about ourselves?" Her voice carried a tone of intrigue as she considered the unusual assignment.

A smile graced the teacher's face as he confirmed, "Indeed, you can be any person you want, and the essence of that person lies within what you put on that piece of paper."

I shifted my gaze downward to my blank sheet of paper. The notion of fabricating an alternate version of myself intrigued me. The truth was, Mr. Rhodes belonged to a select circle of teachers who genuinely cared about their students' growth. I wasn't even in his class, being a class below, but when circumstances forced me to escape, Mia had suggested I accompany her, and I had agreed.

With a brisk clap, Mr. Rhodes set the timer. "You have ten minutes, and your time starts now," he declared, igniting a frenzy of scribbling and creative thought throughout the classroom.

I looked around at my peers, all engaged in crafting their fabricated personas. I was supposed to lie about myself, and a strange sense of excitement began to creep in. Even though I wasn't supposed to be here, I couldn't help but feel a longing to participate in the challenge Mr. Rhodes had presented.

Five minutes passed swiftly, and I had managed to complete my poem. It wasn't perfect, but it was an attempt at fabricating a version of myself as per Mr. Rhodes' unique assignment. With time to spare, I found myself staring at Mia, my mind wandering to an unexplored detail I had never noticed before: a tiny smile tattoo behind her ear. It was a subtle mark that hinted at her inner strength and resilience.

Mr. Rhodes announced, "And time's up," as the class collectively wrapped up their creative endeavors. He shifted his attention to the eager faces in the room, inquiring, "Who wants to go first?" Mia, ever confident, shot her hand up immediately. Mr. Rhodes acknowledged her with a nod, and she gracefully stood up, ready to share her crafted persona.

I couldn't help but smirk at her bravery. She inhaled deeply, her eyes focused on the class as she began her performance. "I am not Mia Carpenter," she declared with a resolute tone, setting the stage for the unconventional revelation to come. "And I'd rather be somewhere else."

As she continued, Mr. Rhodes maintained a patient and encouraging demeanor. "I'm shy," she confessed. "I'm loud and aggressive. I'm unkind."

My admiration for Mia grew as I watched her reveal these facets of herself without hesitation. The entire classroom fell silent, captivated by her words. She continued, baring more of her fabricated self. "I hate long walks and despise dogs. I don't like the way my hair looks or my body. I hate my culture. I hate life and humanity. I hate people. I hate school. I think my friends are boring."

With every sentence, Mia's authenticity shone through, her boldness resonating with those around her. "I am not Mia Carpenter," she concluded, and I couldn't help but join in a hearty applause.