The Slapping Game

Part 1

Anyone unfamiliar with what an unattended 7th grade class looks like might be forgiven for suspecting that the students are on speed. It is an intimidating sight for the timid soul to behold. Not to mention a blitz upon the ears.

Thirty three uniformed students, fourteen boys and nineteen girls, populated the cluttered but colorful second-floor classroom of Clarence Primary School, situated just beyond a bronze bust of the facility's namesake when viewed from the wrought-iron main gate.

Some of the more boisterous boys had already dared to step up onto their wooden desks, a sure sign that their teacher (not to mention the neighboring classrooms' teachers, if the adjacent noise was anything to go by) had left their charges unwatched for more than half an hour.

The prime motive for the urgent meeting was known to them all but only through rumor; municipal authorities were considering temporarily closing the school following an accident that week inside the wing under maintenance. Their junior colleague's medical condition and the impending school closure, however, didn't seem to worry the students too much. On the contrary, the very possibility of that ornate gate slamming shut before final exams could begin had left most relieved and some quite ecstatic.

Vee Howley ranked high among the ecstatic faction, and he gloated openly as he surveyed the chaos around him. There was something empowering about the way it had all played out.

The only smudge in the scenery was the island of calm who sat among the screaming, playing children. Vee watched the taciturn boy with unfriendly eyes, despising the shop-closed expression stamped upon his long face. Alone among his classmates, Aaron seemed immune to his 'charisma', although once in a while that impassive face would morph to show a hint of distaste whenever Vee spoke up. Aaron could see through his mask.

Vee hated him for that.

A loud smack followed by a squeal and much laughter caught his attention. Elisha and Wendy were having a go at one another to the amusement of their friends. Elisha, a slight girl whose smart blue uniform was at odds with her untidy straw-colored hair, clenched her hand and seemed to laugh and grimace all at once to the audience's amusement. Wendy raised her tiny fist in triumph above her ginger locks, a look of glee stamped on her face as she reigned over the moment.

"My turn, my turn!" Elisha protested, and Wendy's wide grin faltered. After a moment's hesitation, she finally worked up the courage and placed the back of her hand outstretched before her adversary.

Elisha gave a girlish giggle and then abruptly hammered down with the heel of her hand, the sound it made as flesh found flesh coming across as very wrong to Vee's ears. A quick argument broke out between the surrounding class-mates as Wendy danced in place with her hand pressed against her flat chest, her expression a far cry from what it had been moments ago.

"She did it on purpose ..." Damian droned beside him. "She doesn't like to lose."

"Which one?" Vee asked.

"Elisha, of course!" He replied, looking at his friend as if he was deliberately being stupid.

"If that's what you think then Wendy's gonna catch you by surprise ..." Vee countered with a grin.

All those at the slapping pit were in high spirits once more, even Wendy, who had in the meantime put on her trademarked grin and was readying herself for payback. Elisha's smile was tremulous as her hand crept forwards over the distance between them, her adversary's palm held high and waiting. A flash of wickedness passed over Wendy's features and her hand was suddenly a blur, the resounding smack it made as it found its target turning every head inside the classroom towards the source.