I make it into the high school parking lot just before the bell rings and a deep exhale escapes my chest. Its nearing the end of the school year and you can tell students are slowly just not giving a shit about attendance, because by the time I'm in my seat at the last minute there's still stragglers trying to sneak in unnoticed during role call.
Its the usual quiet jibberish that you hear in a classroom, students whispering to eachother and trying not to be noticed by the teacher, clicking of pens and the scratching sound of pencil on paper.
My seat is near the back of the class to the left, in the very corner. I sink into my chair and just observe. At my old school I used to join in with the chatter, but its interesting to watch it unravel before you instead.
At the front of the class the teacher (Mrs. Fin) a heavy set woman in her late fifties, is going over the legistics of a poem written by Edgar Allen Poe. Typically literature is my favorite class but the curriculum chosen for the juniors and seniors is a bit Dated.
Regardless, failure isn't really an option, so I study vigorously. I have two pencils, three note books, a large binder and all of my text books organized neatly in my bag. Notes from each class are written in different colored pens; Color coordinated for each period. I wish I could say that I'm passionate about my education and that's why I'm so meticulous but that would be a lie.
Unlike Andrea. She's not smart, but she's determined to be accepted into one of the three colleges that Melissa has beaten into her brain. Despite the extra baby chub that Andrea carries, she's been in dance classes since she was in diapers. Melissa isn't exactly rich to say the least, so a full ride scholarship would be just what Andrea needs.
Suddenly I feel a tap on my arm and I flinch. The guy that sits next to me in class gestures for me to pay attention.
He has dark brown hair that falls in messy waves halfway to his shoulders and green eyes. I don't know his name but he's been in the same spot since I started school here. We don't interact except on the occasions when he forgets his pencil and knows that I will discreetly lend him one. I realize the teacher is describing tonight's homework.
I nod a silent thank you to the guy and hastily begin jotting down every word that Mrs. Fin spews between sips of coffee from a mug that says "best teacher ever."
Typical.
***
YOU ARE READING
Strange
Teen FictionAlice is a shy girl. She's quiet, reserved, some even go far enough to say she's mute. She sits in the back of the class, finishes her work and goes unnoticed by most, covering her secrets well. Almost well enough for no one to catch on.
