"How long will you keep doing this?" The super attendent's gaze wouldn't leave his, narrowed brows and clenched jaw peering down at him. The comfortable spinning chair not seeming comfortable anymore, as the super attenden'ts hand had gripped it still.
Caspian gulped, a action he gradually didn't do, his eyes held no expression as he conquered to muffle a few phrases of 'how he didn't care' or that he thought of him as a 'jerk' before looking at the supper attendant again, who was running a hand through his dark wavy hair, followed by a rather long sigh before he stared at him, almost looking defeated.
The pity in his tone was visible as he parted his lips to speak again, "you can leave now."
Caspian wasn't sure how many times this had happened to him since the very day his mom had passed away. And still, he found it ridiculous, now even more than ever, as another year had passed and yet people had found more ways to feel sorry for him.
Yes, he understood how much a loss of a love one could trigger an affect on people, which causes them to call every five minutes to check up on you and give you constant sad stares that did nothing but influence his mood.
He wasn't in the mood to think of how much he hated his life at the moment. It wasn't just because of his mother's death that he had been like this, or maybe it was and he was just letting the melancholic glances get to him.
Making his way to his next class, the splattered marvel travels quickly beneath his feet as he maintained a steady stride. He couldn't help but overhear his teacher's loud argument. He stopped before he could enter his class, his ears practically now glued to the door at the sudden words "the 1972 disaster."
Caspian hadn't noticed how his permanently rosy cheeks had suddenly strained into a smile. He had only now remembered how they were suppose to discuss about the 1972 disaster rather than hearing his teacher dwelling about it all week for the new students.
He knew It was basically another excuse to briskly scare the newcomers or freshman, but there was a slight chance that he could obtain more information about it. He really doubted everyone would of preferred to discuss something as entertaining as an old historian or a piece of literature, so they probably chose to discuss that in his class.
Caspian had already heard everything there was to known about the 1972 disaster, even before he was enrolled, and there wasn't a solid day without a student mentioning it. Either it being, how ridiculously stupid those students were for staying after school that night, or bickering on how hot one of the girls was, and what a damn shame that she had died during all the chaos.
Soon enough he gripped the door knob firmly, twisting it before tugging it and walking in slowly, unnoticed to the back of the class, as he saw Hayden mouthing 'How'd it go?'.
Caspian had considered on sticking out his tong or flipping him off, but he decided against it, noting that it would be very childish of him and Hayden wouldn't even take him seriously. So instead, he rolled his eyes, giving him possibly the most coldest stare he could muster for getting him in trouble.
Pictures of the victims were passed down soon enough, his attention suddenly drawn to them. Everything seemed to blur out and it all just sounded like background noises to him. His eyes squinted and he finally could make up figures around him once again. He heard Hayden's voice calling him over.
He purposely ignored Hayden, his lousy, only excuse for a friends who did nothing, but throw paper balls for the remainder of class to get his attention. Failing to aim the majority of the time before he saw the teacher divert his attention to him.
YOU ARE READING
1972
Teen Fiction❝five or more student were trapped in a school, yet only two were heard from, but not even they were able to come back to tell what really had occurred those last few days of disaster.❞ {full-length description inside}
