This is all Zola's fault.
I knock on his door quickly and get ready for the awkwardness. My vow from earlier about not getting into trouble is immediately thrown in the trash. I don't think I'll be making more vows or promises.
The door opens and I look up quickly, his eyes go immediately to my cheek but he doesn't question it. He only pulls the door open wider for me to enter. I don't even waste time sitting in my desk, I just stand near it.
"Sit down." He says in a tired tone.
"Can't you just let me leave?" I turn to face him.
"No. Sit down." He orders as he points to my desk. I huff, there's no winning with him so why would I waste my breath?
It seems like an endless battle, I just wish he wouldn't drag out everything. It's like he wants me to be here longer.
"I know you don't want to see me and I'm sorry. Just get me expelled or suspended so you don't have to see me." I suggest to him. He sighs as he looks over at me, he looks a bit worried about something. I've noticed Mr. Howell has a lot of these mood swings, sad, angry, happy, worry, everything.
"Omera, I'm not going to do that." He declines quickly. I groan in dissatisfaction as I look at him to continue. "What happened to your face?"
I sit up quickly, I almost forgot about that. "Allergies."
"What are you allergic to?" He raises his eyebrows as if he knows I'm lying.
"The bushes near the benches." I state as confidently as possible.
"Really? What type of leaves are those bushes made from?" He questions me, I panic for a second.
"I don't know, they gave me a reaction though." I pathetically cling to the lie.
"Well if those bushes gave you a red hand shaped rash, you should check a doctor." He informs me sarcastically. I sigh and put my head down on the desk. "I think I would know what a slap looks like, Omera."
Yes, of course he knows what a slap looks like. He gave me thirty last week. I slightly blush at the thought.
"It doesn't concern you."
"If someone has hurt you then you must tell me." He explains to me. He rests a hand on my back, I sit up and move his hand away.
"I told you it's an allergic reaction." I argue, he looks into my eyes as if to signal I have another chance but I look away. No way, I'm not going to get any type of pity from him.
If I tell him he'll punish me for going to the boys school, and he would contact that stupid Oliver kid. No way in hell.
"Then let's proceed to why you were sent in my classroom once again." Mr. Howell says as he takes a seat in his own desk. "Besides the fact that you skipped my class."
"I left the school grounds and then lied about my wellbeing." I state, there's no point in beating around the bush. I just want to get this over with.
"Where did you go?" He asks.
"Does it matter?"
"It indeed does." Mr. Howell says with tired expression. I couldn't help but feel a bit bad for tiring him out but he deserves it. If we were to compare physical pain, I would be in the lead.
I couldn't help but imagine what is going through his mind. Does he even like me? He did kiss me but the abrupt end with no explanation makes me a bit unsure. He probably doesn't like me, I could tell by how tired he is of me. Why does that make me a bit depressed?
"What are you thinking about?" He questions me in curiosity.
"I'm just a bit homesick." I admit in sadness. I look at my fingers, nervously playing with them. It seems I've been doing it a lot ever since I entered this boarding school.
It's been so long since I've attended a party. I miss the feeling of being free and alive. It seriously makes me consider that autumn dance, but I doubt I'll be allowed to go now. With all the trouble I've gotten in, I'll probably be chained down for the next week with no way to go anywhere.
If I hadn't been caught at that party my parents wouldn't make me attend this school. They're only two hours away, could I be able to escape and go back? I would get see my younger brother and reconnect with my friends again.
Deep down I don't want to live this boarding school. I just don't know what is keeping me from fleeing...maybe it's Maci. Who knows?
"You may go." Mr. Howell says breaking me from my thoughts. I look at him to see he's reaching in his desk drawer
"What? Why?" I question. He seems a bit mad as he pulls out a familiar object from his desk. He gets up from his desk and lays the object in my desk.
My phone.
"Sir, why are you giving-" I try to question him but he cuts me off.
"You are dismissed, Ms. Williams." He tells me in a serious tone. For once he addresses me the way he addresses all his students. I feel a jab in my heart, why does that hurt me so much?
I never knew how special it makes me feel when he uses my first name.
