HIRAETH

2

 Small town, small school. This is something I've gotten used to. There are 500 of us in the high school, making each grade approximately 125 students each. I'm a senior, so I can get through the hallways fairly easily. I suppose my size is also a factor. This is okay with me. I like being alone. I like not being bothered or hassled. As per usual, I get to class on time, and sit at my assigned table. Middle row, outside left, outside seat. I won't stand out. I'll answer if called on, but I'll do my work silently otherwise. This is okay. I like being alone. 

But I do not like to be lonely. 

I am alone, but I am also lonely when I am at school. How could I not be? I am surrounded by people. I am surrounded by people who laugh and talk and go to parties on the weekend together. They do not talk to me, and I do not go to parties with them. I am alone, and I am lonely. When I am not at school, I am not lonely. And that is okay. I can wander the woods alone, and nobody bothers me. The animals like me, and I'm fairly sure that the raven that pulls at my necklace is the same one each time. I am not lonely in the woods.

Class starts. 

It's history class, one of my favorites. I've always loved history. I can vividly imagine events. Sometimes, I can even see them in my head like a movie. Today, Mr Canterbury is talking about the historical connotations of events in the bible, and what archaeology has revealed in recent years. At exactly 2:27 in the afternoon, something happens. I do something that I have never done before.

"That's not true!" I object violently, standing up and shoving my chair back. Mr. Canterbury falls silent, and everyone stares at me. 

"Oh? Please explain what you mean and how you know this. The facts are here, and they don't lie, but I am open to debate." Mr. Canterbury looks at me from over his glasses, which have slipped lower down on his nose. 

 I don't understand. I am confused and more shocked at my own behavior than anyone else could be. More concerning and baffling, though, is how I just know that I'm right. And even worse is how I can feel my mouth beginning to move without my permission again, preparing to form the words, 'I was there'. 

This is when I do a second unexpected thing: I grab my bag and run.