Once Upon A Journal

Chapter Two

"Good morning, class," Ms. Rachel, our English teacher, greets us, her gaze sweeping across the room. "I hope everyone had a productive weekend. Before we start today's lesson, let me distribute last week's answer sheets."

A chorus of groans rises from the class. I hold my breath, praying for a decent score. I am scared because I had a fever last week, so I couldn't focus on what I was writing. My stomach twists with anxiety as I watch her take the answer sheets out of her bag.

She looks almost peaceful, almost grandmotherly, with her white hair and half moon spectacles, but she's actually the strictest teacher you'll ever meet. She is the type of teacher who has a habit of taking surprise tests almost every week. Sometimes, it's nerve wracking to attend her classes due to this.

Lily, my friend, leans over, whispering, "I bet you aced it. You're always so prepared."

Not always. Nevertheless, I give her a half-smile, grateful for her confidence in me.

Lily is my only real friend in this school. She is the exact opposite of me. Her hair is a different shade every day, and her heart is always on her sleeve. She is also a really optimistic person and loves to party. Having her by my side makes me happy because she is the only one who can handle my overthinking and pessimism. She is like a rainbow, full of colour and optimism.

"Juliette," Ms.Rachel calls my name, snapping me back to the present. Standing up from my seat, I walk towards the front of the room, my heart pounding in my chest. My neck prickles with the weight of other's stares.

She hands me my paper, without a word. Nervously, I glance down, and relief washes over me as only five marks are deducted out of hundred. I let out a breath, feeling a lightness spread through my chest.

"I told you right? You'd do amazing," Lily says when I return to my seat.

But it’s not over until I hear his name.

"Thanks," I say absentmindedly, my ears straining for the next name.

More names are called, but I'm waiting for him. God, please don’t let him score more than me, or else he'll never let me forget it. A few months ago, when he got just one mark more than me, I had to shut off my ears in the hopes that he wouldn't annoy me further.

"Alex," Ms. Rachel calls out, making me hold my breath.

But I know I’ve lost. He saunters up, takes his answer sheet and looks at me with a smirk, one eyebrow raised in challenge.

For the rest of the period, I clench my jaw and grip my pen tighter with every smug glance he throws my way. It's supposed to be the kind of look you pass only when the other person doesn’t know you’re looking—prideful, pretentious, and utterly inappropriate. It’s his way of saying, "Look, Juliette, you might be the school captain, but I’m still better than you."

"You're fuming," Lily whispers, chuckling softly.

"Didn't you see him? What does he think of himself? I hate him."

"You say that every day," she sighs, shaking her head.

"Because I really do."

After class, Alex is the first to approach me. I stay rooted to my seat, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing me react.

"You look sad," he says with mock concern. "I hope it's not a zero."

"Are you worried about me?" I shoot back, cutting him off before he can reply."Don't be. One exam isn’t going to decide anything."

Besides, I wanted to remind him that, so far this year, I’m still ahead of him. I like to keep a mental tally of the times I’ve outscored him. But I don’t. I just look at him, eyes challenging him to say something.

He nods, a sharp smile on his face. "See you around, Juliette."

I watch him walk away, feeling an irritation that only he can manage to bring out of me. This isn't over.

__________________

By the time it's history period, I am sweating through my clothes. And no, it's not because it's hot or the air conditioning isn't working in class—it's because Richie, one of the members of our history project group, decided to skip classes without any warning.

I found out when I approached the other members, Gianna and Sarah, to go over our presentation. They told me that Richie doesn’t like history, so he bunked his classes.

"Oh, Richie went to watch a football match," Sarah said, laughing by the end. "It's funny, right?"

I'm sure my shock was evident on my face because both of them laughed.

"Come on, live a little. It's not like it's the end of the world," Gianna added, as if I’m the crazy one for worrying about my future.

"Can't you call him or something? This project is very important," I pleaded, my voice breaking a little at the end. My hard work and sleepless nights will be for nothing if he doesn't show up.

However, they brushed me off and started talking about their upcoming plans with their other friends, who are quite popular and influential in our school, especially Gianna. Whatever she wears becomes trendy, whatever she says, people agree with. I felt a sinking feeling in my chest as I realised they didn't care about the project at all.

So right now, all I'm doing is praying that my grade isn’t affected by Richie’s absence.

Mr. Anderson, his spectacles perched on his nose, steps up to call our group name, "The Time Misfits." And no, I wasn’t the one to choose such a ridiculous name. I wanted something simple and serious, like "History Analysts." But the other members thought this would be better. Yeah, better for them, as an amusing topic of discussion.

I’m the first to go up to him, with Gianna and Sarah following close behind. I fist my palms, in fear that they are shaking. My legs feel heavier than usual and I just want to rewind time and lock Richie up so that he wouldn't run away.

"Isn't there supposed to be another member?" Mrs. Anderson asks, making my stomach tumble in fear. He isn't a strict teacher by any means but right now, standing in front of him makes my chest tighten.

I wait for the others to say something, but no one speaks up. Fate was really having the time of its life pairing me with them.

"Yeah, he actually had a stomach flu," I say at last, regretting the lie I had to tell for something I didn’t even cause.

"Yes, Mr. Anderson, but we completed the project, so there's no need to worry," Gianna chimes in, her voice polite and chirpy.

Fortunately, he doesn't question much, so I just hand him the project. But inside, I am seething like a volcano ready to erupt. It's making me want to shout out that I did all the work, matching their handwriting to avoid suspicion, working the whole night. But I keep quiet, saving my frustration for later.

Later, when I am home, away from anyone ruining my peace of mind, I'll turn to my special journal—the one I reserve for moments like these. It’s my sanctuary, where I write everything I can't say out loud, hiding behind my polite smile and the lies that escape my mouth. This letter-bound book is where I pour out my raw, unfiltered thoughts. Though it’s always with me at school, I never take it out, fearing someone might find it. When I can’t keep it with me, I hide it between the bed and the nightstand, guarding it like a precious secret. It’s essential to me because no one must ever discover what I write about them—ever.

Thank you ♡