One in 12 Billion

4

Word count: 1585

"You're late," Mrs Maysby barked, as I entered the classroom a minute after the bell had rung.

I pointed as the door as I came in, "The system says I'm on time." A triumphant grin spread across my face, as I glided past her.

The smile soon shrank into a scowl, as I spotted the floor projector open. This would only mean one thing.

"New seating arrangements," Mrs Maysby almost sang as she gestured to the holographic names hovering over each seat. I searched for my name in my favourite row -no Nova in the back.

Silently hoping, I scanned the first row. Phew, a weight was lifted off of my shoulder. I could safely search the rest of the room, not particularly concerned where I would be sitting from that point.

"Nova, you're here," hollered a recognisable voice. Ant called my name two more times for I could finally spot here.

"Shut it, Ant!" and "Pipe down!" were both directed to her at the same time, by which she responded by calling my name once again. I adavanced towards my seat.

"Thanks," I whispered, taking a peek at the seats beside me.

'Melanin' was the only name, as my seat was the last before the aisle through the centre of the classroom. The chairs in the room were staggered, in such a way to assist the view of the board. In effect, the inly person I would easily be able to talk to in this class would be Melanin.

She was the only one. The class began to settle down, the cacophony of noise dispelled within seconds, an odd sense of organisation that was foreign amongst teenagers. My head snapped up from my tablet to see the teacher standing, feet shoulder-width apart and arms behind her back, facing the classroom.

The power she asserted ove the classroom was obvious. Her arrogant air seemed to waft even to my position in the penultimate row of the room; she was not however the object of attraction as this moment.

Holding her position on the podium, was Melanin, attempting to slip unnoticed into the classroom. Mrs Maysby seemed unaware of her presence.

"We will be starting a new topic this year, moving swiftly along with the Psychology syllabus. Onto the psychology of..."

In the middle of her sentence, I put on my airbuds and leaned back so I was able to see the ceiling displays instead of Mrs Maysby herself. However what I met was quite amusing site, I snickered in my mouth, checking discreetly to see if anyone noticed.

Mrs Maysby continued to talk about cynicism, as I continued to watch behind her. From Melanin's hand slipped something small. Her airbuds. They rolled along the floor, and came to land coincidentally in the middle of the teacher's out-spread legs.

Silently, she crouched towards the ground, and opened up the case. Before the electromagnet could take effect, Mrs Maysby closed her legs. Her right foot met her leg with a stamp. As it did so, there was a crunch.

The sound of five milligrams of metal and polymer had never been louder. The crunch of an object no larger than a fingernail had never rippled through a classroom in a way that it just had. There was complete silence in the room. Every student saw her face twist from her usual expression to sneer.

There was no shock, no paling in fear. There wasn't even a peer towards the class to search for the source.

There was a second crushing noise, undoubtedly on purpose. Her chunky white heel dug into the small wireless device. "Welcome to my class, Melanin."

She peeled the pile of material off of her show, and held out the buds, as if they would scorch her king if she held them for too long. Melanin took her seat, oddly unaffected. There was an uproar in the classroom. Impressed clamour filled the classroom.