The World's Aftermath [ON MAJOR EDIT]

Chapter 5 [Cleo]

Dedicated to MimiBlueCookies ! You've been the wonderful support and help from the beginning! I want to give you a huge thanks, knowing you're such a sweet and amazing writer! Make sure to check out her wonderfully written story called 'Just Super' ! :D

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He could've just whisper through thin air that the people in public generally sees a pair like us to be recalled as 'dating'. When they do see it, it's usually required three things: opposite genders, aiming to be in a close age, and partnered to be lifetime bodyguards by their own headmaster.

And unfortunately, Eric and I had been pretty much stuck into those categories. Almost everyone who had the awful lack to even ask, said playing 'lets pretend we're cousins' game is just our excuse the whole time. What was their right to correct us? Did everyone have to be judgmental and go out with their own bodyguards? I would run for my life to even make it wholesome true in my heart. So would Eric, he's had enough of the stares and the worst part when it's 'oh, you guys are so cute together'.

Just yuck.

Lockers jams inside the deafening hallway, as I made my way towards mine, wild arms and bodies scramble along the way. This part of the day is the most filled in spaces when everyone were like scurrying pigeons, detecting eyes that shows they had nowhere to go but squawk their mouths in useless manners.

I crack open the passcode on my locker with no hesitation, feeling the quick energy telling myself to get things done. Then I grab my backpack and let it rest in my shoulder. Finally, another day completed in this awful place.

-–-

"Late again," Mrs. Brown shakes her head which slight anger. "Even for detention," her look turns into a hatred glare.

"Can't you understand the rules and missions of everything around here? First or last, I do not want this act of yours to be repeated, Cleo," She says, shaking off any grin from her mouth, and turns dead serious again.

"Sorry." My tongue is about to slip away. Her eye contact lowers with anger burning me to feel smaller, as if forcing my heart to be someone that should be wasted with regret of this mistake. I imagine my own science teacher transforming her place as the punishment maker of school. What a terrifying difference if it happens.

Her finger points to her class, signaling me to move my butt away at this second. I walk towards it with my head slightly down, that way, no rudeness is able to be detected by her. And her gaze never leaves my side, it's just like when it was the first day of school.

A punk looking girl throws a ball covered with paint, fast and sleek across Mrs. Brown's so called 'private' classroom. I watch her twin sibling–oddly smaller in size–miss his catch for the ball. Right on track of my remembrance, I've seen these seventh graders run around the halls like naive little children who doesn't like anything but paint balls.

"Plan B!" He shouts, eyes alarming with panic as I walk inside, Mrs. Brown trailing behind with a strong, frigid, stomp walking.

The twins skitter away to their seats, just as I find mine that's the farthest away from them. With bad luck and no fortunate leading me, even Austin gas shown up to detention, eyeing as I pretend I don't even see and know him. I guess I'm too pathetic to think 'A Big Blabber Mouth' fits with Eric. Too risky to blame away a family member.

The strong snap of a ruler grabs everyone's attention. I look directly to the source of the sound.

"I do not want to hear anyone else talk!" Mrs. Brown holds up the wounded ruler with the point of a reminder. "Or laugh, giggle, shout, and run around, throwing paint balls in my room! Might as well grab a duct tape to stick you up on that chair!"