"There's gotta be an upside to this upside down shit,"
"Yeah, from a psycho's perspective."
Brandy Mullins truly thought her past was a nightmare. Not some figuratively speaking awful event, but actual bad dreams, and the tattoo on her wrist just ha...
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───── ❝ Danger in Numbers ❞ ───── ☆
Brandy stares blankly at the chalk board in front of her, eyes glossed over and unmoving. While her english teacher blabbers on with a speech no one listens to, all eyes seem to burn into the back of Brandy's neck. Wispers and mutters alike fill the air like thick fog on a rainy morning, and that fog seems to slowly creep into her mind as Todd places a hand on her shoulder. "Brandy," he wispers, careful not to catch Mr.Hughes attention, "You doing okay?"
Brandy shakes her head absentmindedly-- something she has perfected over the many, many, long hours since Sandra went missing. Through talking to the sherif and cops, the principle, her parents, friends, and people who she barely knew, Brandy has turned the "everything-is-fine" nod into instict.
"Try to pay attention," Sherry advises. "Mr.Hughes will have a cow if he catches you dozing off."
Once again, Brandy nods, but it's not as second nature this time. She counts on the two, even if she didn't know it, and this is Brandy's way of expressing it. Because of them, Brandy has made it through the school day, even with zero sleep. Todd keeps everyones questions at bay (except his own), while Sherry keeps Brandy grounded.
The two, however, seem to struggle getting along at the moment, and that much is obvious. Perhaps it's the fact that they have yet to come to terms with their missing friend, too caught up in keeping Brandy from freaking out or spiraling. "She's not dozing off, and if Mr.Huge can't take it easy on her, then he's a simpleton."
"She doesn't need easy-"
"Guys." Brandy cuts her friends bickering off quickly, not looking forward to its continuance. Her phrase is simple, short and sweet, yet it gets it's point across briefly.
A loud rumble sounds out from the front of the room-- Mr.Hughes clears his throat. The squatty, grey-haired man holds a ruler tightly in his clamy palms, looking at the three disruptive teens in disgrace. "Ms.Mullins," He roughly says, his voice sounding like blades scraping against tile. "Would you like to share your conversation with the class?"
Brandy's eyes fly up to meet her teachers, ears burning red as heat stings her face. One would think the look on her face would be enough of an answer, but Mr.Hughes continues on. "I will not have slackers in my class, regardless of the situation."
With that little word, the whole class runs quiet-- so quiet that even the air conditioning turns off. Everyone's mouth is slammed shut, or dropped agape in suprise except for one deliquent teen.
Steve harrington, who sits a few rows away, sits up in his chair. "Mr.Hughes-"
"Mr.Harrington,"
"Yeah," He pauses, almost like he was trying to plan his words he so thoughtlessly spat out. "You don't happen to care about that empty seat, do you?"
