The Undoing Of Heroes | ✓

ten

ten

SCHOOL WAS NOT back open until another few days passed, which I spent at home, alone. The burn was gone by now, only leaving behind a faint redness covering the side of my face, easily covered with a hoodie or some more stage makeup, even if it pained her to apply it. 

I should've felt nervous, or at least some kind of trepidation as I planted my feet inside the doors of school. It was eerily quiet in the hallways, and the sound of scuffling feet and lockers closing softly smothered me. It was the first time I'd missed the morning gossip, or the way some of the girls complained about their lack of morning caffeine.  

Even if no one bothered to even glance at me, I still felt the burn of a strong spotlight crowning my head. I felt as if I'd been stamped with big, bold letters on my forehead declaring. 'GUILTY'. 

But it wasn't, yet that knowledge didn't ease the nagging paranoia gnawing at the back of my mind. I knew it was impossible that someone would be able to know where I spent my nights, since I knew no one except Aria and Paindealer. Gray didn't count, since we technically didn't know each other. I wondered if he'd still hound me for after-school tutoring sessions, but the thought was discarded as I deemed it irrelevant for him to ponder about his schooling when more major issues were pressing him. Issues such as me. 

"Hey, move it!" Some girl exclaimed as she pushed past me, our shoulders colliding. As a result of the collision she dropped her books, and despite wanting to kick them further away from her and her frilly skirt, I unwillingly dropped to my knees and picked them up for her. 

"Thanks, freak. Now, get out of my way." And she brushed past me, leaving behind the scent of daisies and morning bitterness. 

Even if I'd wanted to electrocute her face, there was something about that flowing mane of blonde hair that'd jumpstarted my brain into a furious whizzing, trying to recall a memory I'd somehow let slip away through other worries plaguing me. 

I shook my head, my hair shaking wildly. I needed to cut it, as it'd grown out of it's shoulder-length and now tickled the upper parts of my arms, it's frayed edges laying flat and lifeless against my army-green hoodie, whose hood served as further cover for the burn on my face. 

I steered my feet up the stairs, following the streams of other students who also had chemistry as their first period. The classroom was located on one end of the school's numerous wings, a long way from the other classrooms. The teachers had told us it was to serve as precaution, as some experiments could go very wrong. Not that they'd ever done so. The worst incident was a few years ago, when a junior had been tripped and spilt acid all over herself. 

It'd been chewed up and spat out in the magazines faster than the girl's parents had the gall to sue to school. Which they did, until they failed as their lawyer faced the Stockton's lawyer, some Ivy League whizz whose opponents were defenseless against him. 

The click of heels and the screech of sneakers surrounded me, as well as the combination of sweet-smelling perfumes and musky scents overwhelming my senses. 

The doors were closed when we arrived, a tell-tale sign the professor hadn't arrived yet. We swarmed around the wooden doors, and conversations were hushed, avoiding topics such as the murder and the explosion. It was unusual, and unnerved me to the point of looking over my shoulder. I caught some other senior watching me, and pulled the hood tighter around my face. He frowned, and I averted my gaze. 

As I looked elsewhere, I saw the same girl I'd collided with mere minutes before. Her frilly skirt was in a dusty, mauve pink and she donned a white shirt tucked into the skirt, a suit jacket the same color as the skirt draped over the arm clutching a designer bag.