The World's Aftermath [ON MAJOR EDIT]

Chapter 18 [Cleo]

The ongoing freedom of weekends is left with a countdown. I am now in an awful stench of 'Monday, coming soon in less than 24 hours'. The same cycle of groaning, Mom ignoring, and constantly averting my eyes back under my bed does not seem to stop. In times, I had wished for us to change the cycle and feel different sometimes, but it's as if I need that more than ever now. I'd do anything.. anything for us to see the wider world we have never seen before, meet a variety of people, and gradually never having to be so... bored. Unless I can't exactly do all these things at once. A real scientist do all this, I thought. But will I become one? I haven't figured a thing on how to fix the little drone and yet still, I am dreaming to be one. What is a stronger word than irony?

So, of course-eventually it had to-Monday arrives. "The headmaster says an important assembly should be it. No one can miss it," Mom informed. "You should be okay for this one."

"Mom, of course I'm coming! It's Diana who died," I said. the slam of a door following. I never intended to be harsh or grumpy or rude in anyway. But the look on her face gave an unforgettable memory. I was all that at once. In my excuse, it's only because I was tired. A strong line of stupidity attached along being tired.

The bus slows. Its engine fuming an early morning grumble, coming to a halt. Chatters float and all at once, seats empty, and faces blur from one to the other. They all wear the different colors, but all I can tell is the hollow gray.

Eric and I is still somehow talking about how far we could go with the drone. I tell him it's safe and still. He then jumps off the bus, unreadable.

We walk along the path of students, leading of where there would be an auditorium of full on capacity. Restricted signs are marked in most of the nearby windows and doors from the outside, the grass still stands green but the student's rigid faces and huddled up walks tells a completely different story. Teachers instructs us to walk in pairs and straight, disciplined line. Many has their hands on each student's shoulder to lead them through the halls so they won't faint. I'm almost just afraid I would be worse. But I won't let it happen. I can't remember Diana's death to become something I'm so afraid of, nor the same it is for walking in this school that I tend to every weekday.

"No time for goddamn daydreaming here, move along!" Mrs. Brown hollers.

"What's with the teachers today? Did the weather get them all cold and reckless?" Eric asks.

"You shouldn't be surprised," I say.

"This line should be faster then. We should walk faster or hell, maybe you should walk faster."

"Fine, go ahead and run if you want, I wanna look around a little..."

"You sure?"

"Oh yes, hopefully things will be exceptionally jolly with Ms. Brown storming around," I reply, sarcasm blowing off my mind.

"Good luck, shorty." He walks off, out into the wild of people.

Moments like this tend to differ in our school. One second, things go exceptionally smooth and well enough to say that students have shut their mouths and listened to the rules, but when a big 'ka-boom' goes in the way-it often emerges from happenings that gets the teachers on fire-everything gets canceled, we all just call it a day. But today, no one's laughing, it's all awfully grief and chillingly calm.

Then at last, the front doors burst open. All hell loose.

I wait a few minutes for the rest of everyone to rush and walk in, stumbling all over. The restricted signs are like strong tapes crisscrossed in every hall I pass. No one could get into any of the lockers or classrooms. Any room or area besides the auditorium are held back as if the monster and lurking blood of Diana's tragedy has spread like a wildfire. The creeps of the truth feels chillier than I've thought. None of the matter is true though, but boy, they are everywhere, the place has been stripped down into some kind of illegal act a criminal had done all over.