Atelier has always hated gym class.
There are only two gym sessions; one for the boys, and one for the girls. Therefore, it is the only class she shares with Soo Young, which makes sense, because gym is somewhat an extension of hell, and Soo Young is most definitely a demon, surrounded by her evil underlings.
If only she were small enough. Atelier would hide herself in her locker for the entire period. Nobody would notice her absence, and even if they do, they wouldn't care enough to go looking for her. She's like a pebble, or a stone on the road – seen but ignored, at least, until they want someone to make fun of. Then they would pay attention to her, kick her around for some laughs.
Gym sessions are really just two hours for the athletically gifted to show off, for the average Jane's to have fun with their friends, and for Atelier to mind her own business – usually reading – while being smacked in the head by flying projectiles every once in a while. Shuttlecocks hurt a lot, in case anyone was wondering.
Eventually, she moves to the bench behind the instructor; a tall, well-built woman they refer to as Miss Kim. She's one of the few teachers Atelier quite likes, because she doesn't care too much about her, which means she doesn't find opportunities to poke fun at her along with the rest of her students.
Miss Kim barely pays her any attention, which is nice, but she can feel Soo Young and her minions glaring daggers in her direction. She remembers the warning from her library attacker and swallows, fear creeping up and down her spine. She hasn't seen Jungkook since then, and has been actively avoiding him for her own sake, so she hopes they don't do anything else that will actually hurt her.
If they do, how many people would care?
---
At the end of the session, the girls flock into the locker room to change back into their uniforms. As usual, Atelier waits until they have left before making her way in. Gym is followed by lunch break, so there isn't a need for her to hurry, anyway.
She walks to her locker, opens the door, and gasps.
It is empty.
She tries the one above – /nothing/ – then the one below – /still nothing./
Panic starts to engulf her. She checks the other lockers, one by one, until she has raided them all and found /nothing./ Her uniform isn't in any of them.
"Atelier Rosche," Miss Kim calls sternly from the doorway, her hands on her hips. "What are you still doing here?"
"My – my clothes," Atelier stammers. "I – I can't find them."
Miss Kim gives her a /look./ "You forgot where you left your uniform?"
"No, I know where I kept it. But it's not here. It's gone," she tries to explain, her voice trembling like she's sitting through an earthquake. "I think – I think someone took them..."
"What? Why would anyone –" Miss Kim starts, then it hits her and she stops herself, sighing. Impatiently. "Never mind. I'll help."
She does what Atelier has already done; opening all the lockers in the room. Knowing full well her teacher won't find anything, Atelier moves on to the shower stalls. She even removes the lid from the trash can to peek inside, and thankfully doesn't find her uniform in there.
She is about to give up when she hears Miss Kim call out. "I found them."
Atelier rushes out of the shower room, smiling gratefully, until her teacher shouts for the second time, "In here. In the toilet." And her blood runs cold, all traces of hope evaporating into thin air.
The floor is dry but Atelier walks carefully as if she is afraid she will slip, fall, and die. Miss Kim is standing in front of the second stall, looking grim. She turns, pushes past Atelier, saying, "I'll get you a bag."
Atelier braces herself, and even though she already knows what to expect, seeing her black coat, white shirt, and black pleated skirt all heaped in a dark pile in the toilet bowl still feels like a giant wet slap to her face. Her red ribbon hangs from the edge of the seat, gently twirling in the wind from the air vents, mocking her.
They wrecked her uniform. They ruined it. All of it, except for her shoes. Her dark brown lace-up boots Mother traded a week's supplies for. They spared her shoes – /how kind of them/ – but she can't say she's grateful.
"Take this." Atelier turns around and sees Miss Kim holding out a green plastic bag. "Fish them out."
Atelier stares at the bag, tears welling in her eyes. "I don't want them anymore," she whispers.
"Well, for God's sake, you can't just leave them in there," Miss Kim snaps. She pushes the bag into Atelier's hands. "Just take them out. I'll notify the office so you'll be excused for the rest of the day."
She wants to thank her teacher, she really does. But at that moment, all she feels is anger.
After Miss Kim leaves, Atelier kneels by the toilet and reaches into the bowl. Tears are slipping down her cheeks. She doesn't understand – why can't they just leave her alone for two more days? Two more days, and then she would be gone from their lives.
She holds the bag open with one hand and stuffs her clothes into it with the other. She lets her tears dry and stain her cheeks, not willing to wipe them with her hands – hands that are wet with toilet water.
---
Atelier leaves one washroom only to end up in another.
Everyone was staring when she walked down the hallway. Pointing at her, sniggering at her misfortune, as though they had planned it. And maybe they did. Nothing else would surprise her at this point.
She drops the bag of wet of clothes onto the tiled floor, and washes her face at the sink. It's as if with water dripping off her face, she can somehow convince herself that she isn't crying.
And she isn't. She is done crying.
She turns the tap off and slowly looks up, straight at her reflection in the mirror. This is it. This is the face everyone hates. The face of a try-hard who wants nothing more than to change her fate, but never will. Because at the end of the day, she is only a Morheim girl, and people /hate/ Morheim.
Atelier grips onto the ceramic until her knuckles turn white. She glares into the mirror, a tiny seed of hatred and resentment growing inside her, threatening to burst into a violent scream. It is needed. She feels like she's going to explode.
The glass trembles, but she doesn't notice. She just keeps glaring at herself, gritting her teeth, shaking with anger. Her reflection splits by a jagged crack across the mirror, and then – all at once – every piece of glass in the room shatters, the giant mirror exploding. The shards rain down, falling into the sink. The taps break and shoot streams of water in various directions.
Stunned, Atelier backs away. Her hands fall to her sides as she surveys the destruction. Anger fades quickly, replaced by shock, disbelief.
The door swings open and slams against the wall. A sharp gasp follows. "Atelier Rosche! What have you done?"
/What has she done?/
It is overwhelming. She does the only thing she seems to be good at.
She bursts into tears.