Dance With The Devil

IV

"Quiet! QUIET, people!"

I looked up to Mr. Lancer's almost bored expression. His eyes scoured the room with an obvious air of unamusement. This was him usually. If it was any subject other than English he wouldn't bother.

He went behind his desk and started writing on the blackboard. And just like that, like the school was suddenly running army drills, everybody fished in their bags to find a notebook and a pen. As a not-important, not-special, nobody member of the public, I obliged too. I heard the scratching of a pen behind me and I could tell Sam was already writing. I turned to Tucker next to me, who merely gave me a look that said "Kill me now". I gave an involuntary chuckle and faced the front. Lancer had finished writing notes on King Lear from last lesson for us to copy and he was now sat down at his desk, clicking on his computer and waiting patiently for us to finish.

I sighed and opened my notebook, quickly jotting down the date, and then beginning to write down the notes. Just as I was starting the last sentence, Lancer got up and addressed a guy named Wes, who just happened to be sitting at the front, "Mr. Weston, could you please give out the books?"

Wes nodded obediently and starting piling Shakespeare books into his arms. When he eventually got to us, I muttered a quick thanks when he gave me my book, and as he walked by to give another to Sam behind me, I noticed Tucker peering over my notes already, jotting them down in his own notebook with a pencil.

I narrowed my eyes in amusement, "Dude, do you need a pen?"

He looked up at me, and then at the pencil. He gave a small laugh, "Yeah please."

I chuckled and bent down to fetch my bag off the floor. I gave Tucker his favourite pen (which I owned) and I could practically see stars in his eyes when I gave it to him, "Thanks, Dude."

I lethargically opened up King Lear to Act Two, Scene Three, where we left last and starting skimming through it. How in the hell anybody was supposed to understand this shit, I had no idea.

I turned helplessly to Tucker, who seemed just as puzzled. Suddenly, Lancer spoke up, "Right, we were on Act Two, Scene Three, everybody open your books."

A slight groan echoed around the classroom, and to be honest, I couldn't blame them. This play was the most boring thing I had ever read, other than War and Peace. (Well, I've only read a quarter of War and Peace, I mean, who's read it all, seriously? It's too big and boring! I'm not going to sit through that!)

The two hours we had of English went by extremely slowly, but surely. I kept checking my watch every five seconds. Eventually I gave up on trying to listen to Lancer's droning on and instead plonked my head on the table, concealed by my book. My fingers were still clamped around the sides of the book both to keep it upright and to make it seem to Lancer as if I was still following along with his reading. And not long after, I was beginning to fall asleep.

A whispery, hoarse, muffled voice spoke from the black shadows, "Le... Let... Let it go... Don't hold back from your de... Destiny..."

Suddenly I was on a sort of pedestal, looking around the blackness for any signs of a figure, a voice, anything. "Wh-Who's there?" I stuttered.

"Nobody you need to know of just yet..." said the voice. It was getting clearer, but it was beginning to sound like an accordian that was being played so badly that it hurt your ears. "Just listen to me, child... Let out your true potential... It's not too late."

"Too late for what?!" I asked, panicked, turning on the spot frantically.

"You're much more than what you think you are. Don't let fear hold you back, you are too special for mere mortals to comprehend. Be prepared, for the balance has yet to tip."