To be precise, the In-Between turned into a classroom—my high school classroom. A teacher stood before the whiteboard while students were busy burying their noses in their test papers.
I looked significantly stressed among the students, not because I had difficulty taking the exam but because I kept sniffing and trying to stop her snot from falling.
"Allergies," I explained to Death, seeing his expression, which was a mixture of confusion and disgust.
"Why didn't you just stay home and call in sick?"
"And miss the exam?"
"Ah, right." Death sighed. "Honor student problems."
Death and I acted as if nothing weird had just happened between us. Well, nothing happened between us. Maybe I was overthinking it and giving meaning to his actions towards me, like how I usually do or how I usually do.
The bell rang, signaling our class and the start of lunchtime.
Some students sighed in relief that the test was finally over, while others groaned in desperation, probably because they weren't done yet.
It's easy to guess where I was in the fray.
"Alright, guys!" The teacher said, "Finished or not finished, pass your papers."
The students passed their papers in front while I tried to squeeze in a few more sentences in her essay. Even as everyone else was starting to leave the classroom and chat about their hunger or complain about doing the essay, I was still answering.
Evangeline was the only one left in the room for a minute.
"Come on, Ms. Vermillion." The teacher, whose name I barely remembered was Mrs. Clint, reminded me. "Time's up."
"Just one more moment, please!" I begged, her delinquent personality disappearing in the face of schoolwork.
I was too busy answering her papers to glance at Mrs. Clint and see her disapproving look. The teacher gave a defeated sigh and started collecting her things.
"Ma'am!" I finally looked up. "You're leaving already?"
"Teachers get hungry too, Ms. Vermillion." She said it rather sarcastically. "How about this? Since you're the last one here, could you bring these to my desk in the faculty office?"
I looked in the direction Mrs. Clint was gesturing and saw a huge stack of papers—everyone's test papers—at the front.
"All by myself?" I frowned.
"You can figure it out, Ms. Vermillion. You should probably want to hurry, or you'll have less time for eating." Mrs. Clint added as a tip, as if it weren't blaring 'obvious.' "Anyway, I'll leave this to you."
She didn't even wait for my reply about whether I'd accept or not. Mrs. Clint just left me alone in the classroom.
Now that I was by myself, I released an annoyed groan.
"I hate this subject." I paused, thinking. "I hate our teacher, too."
"At least she allowed you to finish your work." Death pointed it out.
I shrugged.
"I guess."
I added the finishing touches to my essay before making another loud sigh. I stood up and fixed my things before heading to the stacks of paper to drop off my own on top of the others.
I kid you not; the stack of papers was about a foot and a half tall. This made me wrinkle my nose. Not like anyone could see that I was making a face in the first place.
"I have to bring all of these upstairs on my own…" I said this to no one in particular.
I lifted the paper's upper half and realized it was as heavy as it looked.
"A bit heavy, but it's not so bad," I hummed, my delinquent side finally showing up as I tried lifting the whole stack to test my strength. "Okay, that's heavier."
"Obviously," Death muttered under his breath.
I rolled my eyes at him, but he did have a point.
"I could do two trips, but that'll take more time out of my lunchtime," I said, gauging my choices. "I'll just have to tough it out. Even if I don't like our teacher so much, I don't want to keep her waiting.
"Also, two trips are for pussies."
Death laughed aloud again, and he's been doing it more often recently. He must have found the high school me amusing.
I returned to my seat to get my backpack, strapping it tightly on my shoulders, and prepared myself for the long, heavy journey.
"You got this, me!" I huffed, my face turning red before I could even carry the load. "One. Two—"
With much difficulty, I started walking with the test papers in hand. I passed by the hallway, and people were staring at her. Maybe it was because I was famous for being the honor student who beat people up or because they felt pity that such a small girl like myself was carrying such an amount of paper because Mrs. Clint was being a lazy ass.
She usually was.
"How did they know that Mrs. Clint made you do this?" Death asked. "And if they knew you were struggling, why didn't anybody help you?"
"To answer your first question," I said. "It's always Mrs. Clint. She's known on our campus for ordering students around. And not in a justifiable way!"
"I can see that," Death nodded.
"For the second," I continued. "Refer to the first 'maybe.'"
Death wrinkled his forehead and made a face as if he understood immediately.
I was halfway through the stairs when I felt her arms straining because of the weight. I considered taking a break briefly, but a thought came to mind.
"Let me guess," Death said, an amused expression on his face. "'Taking breaks are for pussies.'"
I feigned surprise, covering my lips with my hand.
"How did you know?"
Death shook his head, yet he was smiling.
I continued climbing the stairs, one step at a time, until finally, I reached the second floor. All I needed to do was enter the office to the right, and my mission was complete.
But just as I turned my heels, I bumped into someone. The impact was so intense that I lost my balance and landed on the hallway floor. Test papers were scattered everywhere.
"Watch the fuck where you're going!" The thug in me sprang forth, shouting angrily as I hurriedly knelt on the floor and picked the papers up.
"Hey!" Death said, "Don't act like it was just the other person's fault! I saw fully well the papers were blocking your eyesight!"
I crossed my arms, pouting.
"No!" was all I said.
Death shook his head, now in irritation.
"You are something else, Evangeline Vermillion."
"Sorry about that," A timid voice replied. "I wasn't looking carefully."
"It wasn't your fault," Death interjected as if the person who bumped young me could hear him. But realization struck Death who that person was, and his tone changed completely. "No, it was your fault."
My anger simmered down as I looked up from picking up the papers and saw the face of who exactly I bumped.
"Klaus?"