Only Time Will Tell (Short Story Competition Benedict Cumberbatch)

Week 1

So today is the first day of school. This is why I love September. I know what you're most probably thinking. 'She likes school? What a nerd!'. Well, I am a nerd and truly proud of it. I can't help but have a huge smile on my face as I run quickly up the steps and into the huge expanse of a building that is my school. The warm air hits my face and envelopes my body. The empty foyer  is blissfully silent and sun streams through the white, wooden-framed windows. Dust particles are visibly floating and dancing within the beams of light. I hug myself and spin around. My backpack bouncing on my back, joining in.

Slowly I walk down one of the empty corridors towards the library. A smile still firmly in place on my face. My light footsteps echo through the hallway as I walk and lockers stand proudly like soldiers on both sides of me, saluting me. The wooden flooring supporting me on what has become my daily journey to the library. Looking up, I see the prodigious, grand oak double-doors that lead to my safe haven. 

The Library.

Panting, I drive one of the heavy doors forward and let out a sigh of relief once I am fully in the library. I look around and marvel in the sight before me. The wooden spiral staircase that leads up to the second floor stands lonely in the corner. The uncountable number book shelves crammed full of books that themselves are stock full of knowledge and fantastical worlds that one can escape to if wanted. The thick, red velvet curtains hanging from the windows, cinched back by golden ropes and the marble flooring that gleams and glows in morning sunlight beneath my feet. Numerous desks sit prominently, holding a computer each and the high arching ceiling that is painted with images of cherubs sat on clouds with bows and arrows, only wisps covering their lower regions. This place is truly beautiful.

I'm home.

"It's beautiful" I whisper to myself.

"I know" I hear a deep voice state from upstairs. Unable to see who spoke the words, I run up the spiral staircase and look around.

Through the bookcases and desks I see no one. Still not giving in, I continue to pursue the inscrutable person that had been here moments before. Normally, at this hour in the morning it's only I and the librarian that are in the library and that was most definitely not the librarian's voice. A loud slam of a door echoes throughout the elephantine room causing me to jump.

Rapidly, I run down the stairs and to the librarians desk. She looks at me weirdly, but I brush it off. I lean against her desk, breathless.

"Do you know who was in the library previously?" I inquire. She shakes her head.

"The only two people that I know of that are in here in the mornings, beside me, are you and your friend Jacob. Who doesn't seem to be here" She divulges, looking at me over the tops of her reading glasses.

"Oh, he's ill. He called me this morning. Sickness bug or something" I shrug, looking around. I decide to read a book; so I sit in my little hiding place and read for half an hour.

Looking at my watch, I notice that I merely have five minutes before form time. Embedding my book into my backpack and placing my bag on my back, I say my farewell to Mrs Erickson and hurriedly make my way to my form room. When I get there my form tutor is handing out timetables. I inconspicuously sit in my seat at the back and wait for him to give me mine. Once I receive it I scan it and check which lesson I have first. My eyes descend upon it.

English Literature.

But I don't recognize the teachers initials. I am notably sure that none of the old teachers have the initials BC. So I have a new teacher, great. I choose to not look at the situation so negatively and instead start to ponder about what books that this teacher may or may not like. I am broken out of my daze when the bell clangers through the building. 

Quickly, I shuffle through the crowds until I am in the English department. The yellow walls are a dead give away and you can smell the coffee and new books from the next department. I absolutely adore the smell of the English corridors. As I approach the room that I am to be taught in I note the Que of students outside. Great, new teacher and they're already late. I am aware that I shouldn't judge a person without knowing them, but when a teacher is late to class it causes me to lose a considerable amount of respect for them.

"I'm sorry that I'm late, just let yourselves in. The doors unlocked" It's the voice from the library. My head incontrovertibly snaps around in the direction of where the voice has come from. As I spot the person that has spoken my jaw drops. So this is my new teacher.