Awakened

Chapter 3: My English Teacher Is Stalking Me

The hum of the classroom faded into a dull background noise, as if I were submerged in water, the voices and sounds are muffled and distant. Mrs. Hawthorne's steady voice flowed over me like a river, her words barely breaking the surface.

When the bell finally rang, signaling the end of first period, I was harshly reminded that the school day was still ticking on.

Students spilled out of the classroom, the usual chatter and shuffling of feet filling the air. I followed suit, preparing to head to study hall, when I heard Mrs. Hawthorne's voice cut through the noise.

"Kyle, could you stay behind for a moment?" she asked, her tone stern, but not unkind.

I paused, looking at Hayden, who was already halfway to the door. He shot me a quick look, raising an eyebrow.

"I'll meet you in the courtyard, yeah?" Hayden said, the words light, casual, though there was an edge to them.

Hayden slipped out the door, leaving me in the silence of the classroom with Mrs. Hawthorne.

I turned back toward her, my eyes flicking to the stack of papers she was marking on her desk. She didn't speak right away, and for a moment, it felt like she was weighing something.

"I just wanted to make sure you're doing alright," Mrs. Hawthorne's attention shifts from the papers to me. "You've been... distant lately. The past few weeks you've been skipping more and more classes."

I bit the inside of my cheek, not sure if I even wanted to try to explain. The truth felt like too much.

"Everything's fine," I said, my words coming out flat.

She studied me for a moment longer, and I could almost see the pieces clicking together in her mind. Mrs. Hawthorne had this way of making you feel like you were the only person in the room.

"Kyle," she said gently, but with the weight of experience behind it, "I know that look. It's the kind of look that says something's off, even when you don't want to say it."

I swallowed hard, the knot in my throat growing tighter. The last thing I wanted was to dump my mess onto her. She wasn't some shrink. She was just... a teacher.

But as her eyes lingered on me, I felt as if I'd never escape without telling her the truth.

"Well, I'm sure you could tell by total shitshow this morning that it's my birthday. Now that I'm eighteen, I... I'm going to get kicked out of my foster home," I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper. "Sometime next week. So yeah, school is kinda the least of my worries right now."

Her expression softened, but she didn't react like I thought she would. She didn't pity me. She didn't try to fill the silence with words that would only feel hollow. Instead, she simply nodded, a small acknowledgment that she had heard me.

"You may not believe it," she said quietly, her voice low and steady, "but I truly believe you have so much ahead of you, Kyle. Your life--what's coming--it's going to surprise you. You have more strength in you than you realize."

I stood there for a long moment, taking in the unexpected calm of her words. I hadn't expected her to react that way, not with pity, not with empty promises, but with something deeper, something genuine.

"Thanks," I muttered, my voice thick with emotion I didn't know how to express.

She gave me a small, understanding smile, and before I could say anything else, she gestured toward the door.

"Now, go on. You don't want to be late for study hall."

I walked out of the classroom, my mind still reeling from Mrs. Hawthorne's unexpected kindness. As I made my way through the hall, I tried to shake off the thoughts that kept circling back to the foster home, to the ticking clock of my life. Mrs. Hawthorne had tried to comfort me, but nothing could ease the knot in my stomach.