Our Moonlight

7

Emilia

I hear a whisper beside me, but it goes right through my ear. I'm drifting off in the middle of my economics class.

My cheek is resting on the inside of my palm, my elbow on top of the desk. My eyes are closed while my whole body starts relaxing as I drift off to sleep.

Almost.

"Psst!" I hear the same thing a few more times, but I'm too tired to even turn around.

That is until I feel kick to my leg under the desk which causes my hand to slide and I drop my head onto the desk. There's a loud 'smack' sound as the side of my forehead hits the flat surface of the wooden desk.

I'm immediately awaken, a throbbing pain forming where my head made contact with the desk. I bring my hand to hold my forehead, slumping back in my seat.

I finally turn around to face the person who kicked my leg. Alena shrinks in her seat when my glare hits her way. I'm about to open my mouth and ask her 'what the fuck' but someone clearing their throat interrupts me.

With my hand still on my forehead, I glance up and meet eyes with my economics teacher who has her arms crossed.

Uncrossing her arms, she points to the door. "Go stand outside, I'll be there shortly."

Mrs. Westbrook turns around without another word and continues explaining the difference about supply and demand in society to the class.

I ignore the eyes of my classmates, grabbing my backpack and standing to leave. I sense Alena's stare on my back as she watches me walk outside the classroom. With the intention of leaving to the bathroom, I'm stopped once again by Mrs. Westbrooks voice.

"Where are you going?"

I turn around, "Bathroom. I want to make sure I don't have a mark on my forehead."

She waves me to come stand in front of her. I sigh, striding over to her. Once I'm in front of her, I see the pitiful expression on her face.

"What's wrong, Emilia?" She asks softly.

"Nothing," I grip the strap of my backpack on my shoulder. "I'm just tired."

"Are you having trouble sleeping?"

Growing irritated with her questions, I speak quickly. "No. I'm fine. I just didn't get enough sleep last night." I stare into her eyes. "That's all."

Mrs. Westbrook reaches out to touch my forearm but I move away. She retracts her hand and sighs.

"Well, I can't have you sleeping in class. Especially with your grade being an F," I tune her out, glancing anywhere but her face.

That's when I catch Mrs. Anderson walking my towards us, with a not so happy expression.

I groan out loud, Mrs. Westbrook shutting up while Mrs. Anderson stands behind her. This day cannot get any worse.

"Layla, hi," Mrs. Anderson makes her presence known and my economics teacher turns around, smiling up at my counselor.

"Oh, hello Camille. What brings you over here?" Mrs. Westbrook looks between her classroom and Mrs. Anderson.