Who is in Class?

7

"Hey Noah," the fresh greeting from Yoru early Monday morning nearly had me backtracking right out of Mrs. Broach's class. Back out into the hallway, parking lot, back all the way home where I could just lay in bed until the end of the universe comes and goes.

Barely walk into a room and I'm immediately assaulted by the student body president. All the terrible points in our meager relationship... First, the whole banging him thing. Then, the hospital and being caught in that lie. And now, he knew I spent a good portion of my time in the looney bin. Good lord. Yoru was in the fast lane, if meeting me was a highway.

And it's not a good thing.

Well, I felt awkward. I lifted a hand to rub my neck, "Hey."

"H-Hi Noah," Claire—Claire! —greeted me next.

I blinked at her. "Yo."

And I promptly wanted to smack myself. I felt too anxious this morning.

"Did you finish the folder finally?" Yoru asked me with a hint of smile as I settled on my temporary desk next to him. And why in the hell did I agree to that? Sitting right next to him...

I leaned my crutches against the empty desk behind me.

"I'm sorry it took me seven centuries to complete the folder you did in point two milliseconds," I was pulling out my inner dramatic self. It stayed buried most days. Disguised as a sarcastic monk.

Yoru lifted a hand to cover his mouth, "The offer of my help was always on the table."

My cheeks heated.

"Yeah... right..." I mumbled, pulling out the folder. The folders were due today.

Mrs. Broach sat at her desk, watching the clock. I knew right when the second bell rang, she would be up and collecting our folders. She was malicious like that. But there was no point today. The meager number of students present already had their completed folders out on the desk and patiently waiting. No furious last-minute scribbling sounded. I missed it.

Mrs. Broach started at my desk. She glanced down at me before taking the folder from my desk.

"I expect you all to have your folders done and turned in..." Oh no. It sounded almost like she was about to use mine as an example. "Especially your friends that are absent. I posted a reminder last night to have the folder done today. Students who are absent will be responsible to turn it in the day they come back. Keep that in mind—"

She stopped. She had opened my folder halfway through her speech, and she stopped.

"You're a senior, Noah," I jumped as my folder was suddenly slapped back down on the desk. Woah... "You've been writing your name since you were two. Write it on this."

Holy shit.

I stared blankly down at the folder on my desk. I couldn't even begin to comprehend what the hell had just happened.

She grabbed my folder, opened it, and—and I forgot my name. Like an idiot. I bit my lip and endured the due wave of humiliation that followed as I reached for pen. The entire classroom was silent. I cleared my throat, clicked my pen... and then clicked it again.

Slowly, I lifted my gaze to the teacher and clicked the pen again. And again. And again.

Click, click. Click, click. Click, click.

Only when I noticed her lips twitch, I actually pressed my pen to paper and wrote my name.

"There," I said in a breath as I handed it back to her.