Mrs. Dekker couldn't take her eyes off me for the rest of the period and I swear to hell, it's bothering me. I try to look somewhere else as possible, but whenever I turn my eye on her she keeps on catching them and it triggers my discomfort.
"I'll just fix some paperwork," she says, Mrs. Dekker stammers a lot this time and she doesn't seem comfortable with the dress she wears. "You can do whatever you want as long as you're inside this class."
Though there was a change of her expression, there was no scary intention in her eyes nor she doesn't act strict but instead she was bland and still. She didn't talk; she sits to her chair and stare outside as she unconsciously let her class look at her.
She was being weird with all the delusional acts.
The English class didn't happen to be the usual class that used to ignore other people, what happened was a class with lots of staring and noise from gossips. I try to stay away from talks so I decided to study Mrs. Dekker instead. Mrs. Dekker seemed to be not in herself, she looks at me every ten seconds and if I caught her doing it she quickly turns her head down to her papers.
English please be done.
The bell rang after an eternity of starring and silence. Eagerness to get away from being bored showed when the whole class quickly ran out and formed a minor stampede, again except for -
"Foster, can I just have a minute with you?" She says, her voice softens like the Mrs. Dekker I met on the first day and not on detention. Everybody looks at me, I hear them making sounds that wouldn't help from her sermon.
I stood five meters away from her, the room was starting to get empty, I realized that everyone was already into their next class; I too have another class to attend.
"What do you want?" I asked her, roughly. My fists clenched as my palms presses the handle of my bag unconsciously forceful.
"I have something to tell you," she say. She's into the tone where she desperately want to block the doors with her own sick mind just to not make me go outside.
Maybe I should go outside. I feel exhausted whenever I'm inside the class or even seeing her. Whenever I see Mrs. Dekker it seems that I am just stressing myself, into trying to think who she really is or what is her purpose in my life.
I try to move my foot a step away through the door until Mrs. Dekker's voice started to rise again.
"Foster, as your teacher, I tell you to stay and listen to me for a while," she says. She has a point, so I stopped again.
"What?" I asked. I admit to myself that I really am curious but I don't want this conversation to get longer like I have with Calvin, "Mrs. Dekker I am still having this next cla-"
"Wait!" She says. I look at her and I realized I am not the only one whose fists are clenched, hers was clenched and sweating, "it's about you, your true identity."
What.
Is.
She.
Talking.
About?
A lot of things ran into my mind. What the hell does she know about me? Does this also mean that she knew I am an experiment?
"About me?"
"Yes."
"What do you know about me?" I ask her what I just asked to myself. Mrs. Dekker took ten seconds to say a word.
"Well not me, I never met you until now. But my father does," she says, "our father."
What.
Is.
She.
Talking.
About?
"Think about it," she says, "you may go now."
YOU ARE READING
Dark Alley
Fiksi RemajaFoster was naive. He had been alone in the 'alley' - an ironic metaphor he used to describe the claustrophobic, four cornered room that was well lit to expose the white walls. After being sedated to sleep for a longer period no one could imagine, he...
