Miss O'Connell | B.E

Ⅳ

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It was easy to assume that Divine had no friends because no one liked her, but she preferred to think it was by choice. The only person she ever had genuine conversations with was Valeria. But Valeria had her own circle of friends, and those girls wanted nothing to do with Divine. The feeling was mutual, Divine avoided them at all costs, even during breaks. They were the typical boy-crazy suck-ups she loathed. Most girls at The Blessed Mother's Catholic School for Girls were obsessed with men, starved for the attention they were deprived of.

The school was a castle of woman. Barely any man crossed its threshold—even among the staff—and Divine loved that. But her peers, those perfect little angels, hated it. They hated a lot of things, ungrateful bitches: Divine, their parents, each other. Yet, they painted on the same saccharine smiles and paraded down the shadowed halls as if everything was perfect.

Divine found herself in one of the common rooms, a space lined with plush couches and polished tables where some of the girls gathered to eat their dinners at exactly six PM. The day's classes were long over, and everyone had changed out of their stiff uniforms. Divine sat alone, earphones tucked in, letting the smooth, sultry voice of her favorite R&B artist soothe her as she absentmindedly pushed her food around her plate.

If there was one thing she could appreciate about the school, it was the food. The chefs turned out dishes that could have been served in five-star restaurants—rich roasts, delicate seafood, vibrant salads. They even had "cultural days" where they served international cuisine, a gesture toward inclusivity that felt more performative than genuine. In truth, there were probably only five students in the entire school who were NOT of some white descent—Divine included.

She twisted her fork through the strands of pasta, her head propped on her hand, feeling the weight of the day pressing down on her. She wasn't really hungry; her thoughts were too tangled with the edges of her father's voice, still in her mind. Around her, the room buzzed with the shrill chatter of her peers, their laughter slicing through the air. Whatever they found so funny, Divine knew it wasn't worth her attention.

With a weary sigh, she set down her fork and leaned back into the cushions of the couch. Her eyes drifted upward, drawn to the ceiling. The Gothic arches and intricate carvings danced in the yellow lights, shadows playing across the stone like something alive. The designs were beautiful, haunting even, but it frustrated her that no one else seemed to see them. To everyone else, they were just part of the background.

Divine turned her attention back to the plate of food, her stomach churning with unease. She groaned softly, pulling a face before deciding she'd had enough. Standing up, she was ready to head back to her dorm for some peace and quiet. But as she turned, her heart leaped into her throat when she found herself face-to-face with her new math teacher.

"Shit!" Divine gasped, her hand flying to her chest as she jumped back, startled by the piercing pale blue eyes so close to hers. Miss O'Connell smirked, she was bent over the side of the ouch on her hands, ready to grab Divine's attention, but she had turned just in time. Miss O'Connell rose from the couch next to her, standing up. She reached into her back pocket and pulled out a phone, handing it to Divine. Divine's eyes widened as she snatched it from her teacher's hand, looking up at her in surprise.

"Watch your language, Divine," Miss O'Connell teased, her eyebrows raised in playful admonishment. Divine rolled her eyes, the irritation clear on her face as she stood up towering over, now even more eager to leave.

"Yeah, whatever," she muttered, trying to squeeze past Miss O'Connell and the table. But Miss O'Connell stepped in front of her, blocking her path, her gaze steady up at her.