Masks Always Fall

Chapter 9

I sighed, trying to focus on Kayley's chatter beside me, but my mind kept circling back to the conversation with Dylan. No matter how hard I tried to suppress it, that small spark of attraction to Ms. Clarke refused to fade away.

As Mr. Wattson droned on about the postwar economy, I found myself replaying our unexpected café encounter. The way Ms. Clarke's brilliant blue eyes lit up with laughter was a side I never expected from the usually severe and poised teacher. I shuddered, realizing the dangerous ideas that musicality had planted in my head.

"Emma?" Kayley nudged me, looking concerned. "You okay? You seem really distracted."

I shook myself, forcing on a fake smile. "Yeah, fine. Just tired, I guess."

But I wasn't fine. Because, as much as I hated to admit it, Dylan was right – I did have more than professional feelings for my teacher. The fact that I couldn't shake the memory of her lovely, mocking smile only intensified my self-loathing.

What was wrong with me, developing feelings for someone who was forever off-limits? I dropped my head into my hands with a groan. This stupid crush needed to stop before it pushed me to the brink of madness.

As the final bell pierced my troubled thoughts, I knew what I had to do. This infatuation with Ms. Clarke wasn't going away on its own - in fact, it seemed to be growing stronger each day. No, the only way to stamp it out was to remove myself from the situation altogether.

I had to get out of her class. Distance myself, sever that connection fueling fanciful dreams I could never allow to blossom. It was the only logical solution, the healthiest choice for both my mental state and academic career.

Shouldering my bag with new resolve, I made a beeline for the front office. The secretary glanced up as I approached. "How can I help you dear?"

Steeling myself, I replied, "I need a class change form, please. I'd like to transfer out of Ms. Clarke's English class."

The woman's brows knit in confusion. "Ms. Clarke? But she's one of our best teachers. May I ask why?"

I shuffled awkwardly. What could I say without revealing the truth - that my motives were far from academic? Taking a steadying breath, I straightened. "It's becoming to difficult. I guess I wasn't ready for advanced English."

Thankfully, she didn't press further, simply passing me the form. As I strode out with it clutched tightly, part of me ached at what I was sacrificing.

As I marched down the hallway, I re-read the form the office lady had given me. That's when I noticed the tiny detail that made my heart sink - Ms. Clarke's signature was required to approve the class change.

Of course, no transfer could be processed without the teacher releasing the student. But how could I possibly explain my true reasons for leaving her class to Ms. Clarke herself?

I leaned against some lockers, dragging a hand down my face in frustration. Facing Ms. Clarke was the last thing I wanted to do right now. How could I look her in the eye with these impossible feelings swirling inside?

I nervously approached Ms. Clarke's classroom, dreading this dreaded encounter. I knocked softly and the door swung open to reveal her stern gaze.

"You're late," she stated, those piercing eyes bearing into me. Too afraid to meet them, I stared fixedly at the floor.

"S-Sorry Ms. Clarke. I, um, need you to sign this form..." My voice shook as I held out the paper, still not looking up.

Her heels clicked nearer as she took it from my trembling fingers. Silence stretched as she read, my anxious mind imagining her puzzlement over my request. Finally, she spoke.