Shuffled: When the Cards Talk You Must Listen

Chapter 8 Laiste Moon's Daughter

When I got to the room I was one of the first ones there. Mrs. Train was standing at the front of the room prepping some papers for the lecture. I approached slowly. She was an older lady with frizzy salt-n-pepper hair, small glasses that hung around her neck on a colorfully beaded string. Her clothes looked as if she had gathered them from her many travels around the world. Just looking at her gave me hope for the future of this class. If she was half as traveled and storied as she looked I bet she can make this a real experience.

The girls were right, Mrs. Train was great. She completely understood what had happened the last two mornings and just graciously handed me a pack of catch up work. Including her personal notes that she uses to give the lectures.

 I think the gratitude I felt showed on my face because she just chucked and pointed to the back row saying she was sure I'd like the space to 'sort myself out'. She was right I truly did appreciate that. In fact, I was so grateful that after I plopped my stuff down at my seat I brought her my spare coffee and offered it to her. Good teachers needed to be rewarded. She smiled, thanked me, and shooed me off before too many other kids came in. 

There it was again, that feeling that she was saving me from something, though I had no idea what it could be. I have to admit, it was beginning to feel as if this town was split in half; half trying to protect me from something, and half somehow threatening me in a very passive-aggressive way. I pulled out the notebook I'd started last night of questions and jotted it down below. 

 Why didn't my mom say she had a twin?

Why do I keep having weird "flashbacks" of that street when people say 'small one' 

What is with those guys? 

Why does it feel like half the people here seem to be trying to protect me and the other half seem to be passive-aggressively threatening me?

Apparently, the three, real blonds were in this class because I could hear their dulcet tones long before they entered the room. The sound grated on my ears but I couldn't help but eavesdrop. Blond 1 aka Melody "Did you hear? That bitch actually touched Conal! She TOUCHED him!" Her voice reached an indignant screech as she went on.

Enter long drawn out sigh here. My GOD! Why does everyone here have to talk about me and only me? Doesn't anyone ever move into this town, like ever? GIRR. I slouched down in my seat and hoped I'd not be noticed.

Blond 3 aka Cassidy popped her gum, "Well I heard that she was practically feeling him up and he snarled at her and told her not to touch him! God what a S.L.U.T.!"

My face burned, and I had to keep my eyes down on my desk in an effort to fight back any nasty retort that raced through my head. The nerve of those girls. I mean OK, so maybe I kinda did feel him up, but it certainly was not on purpose. And he very much did not tell me to never touch him again. Quite the opposite. 

 Blond 2 aka Sara stayed silent.

 When I glanced up I noticed that she was already looking at me with a small smirk on her face. I had hoped they would not recognize me in this outfit. Sara however not only recognized me but also knew I heard every word and she knew it either pissed me off or hurt my feelings.

I guarantee she did not hurt my feelings, but I let her think so by looking down again quickly. I even threw in a few fake tears in my eyes just for effect. Sometimes a bit of subterfuge was helpful when dealing with these kinds of people. 

When class started I found myself enthralled with Mrs. Train's teaching.  She was so good and I was so glad. Her notes really did help me and I could tell it wouldn't take me long to catch up. Class had just ended and  I was finishing my notes and organizing the information for me to start the catch-up work when the shadows of three blond girls fell across my papers.