Ansel
People walked under the warm light of the sun. Despite the arrival of the fall season, outside looked more like a warm July day. But what could you expect from a city like Chicago? Its weather was more bipolar than a person. However, despite what looked like a beautiful day to be outside, I was inside staring at the classroom ceiling. The white color on the ceiling had long faded, leaving more rusty brown marks in its place. The light bulbs flickered on and off in a kind of rhythm. My desk, which was located four rows away from the door but next to the windows, was an old one with writing and drawings decorating it. My eyes would occasionally trace the drawings as if trying to find some sort of message the past student wanted to send. I stifled a yawn as he looked around the classroom. Much like the ceiling and desks the room it self was dying. The once vibrate blue walls were now only dull and colorless. Pieces of the wall fell like snow, occasionally covering a students desk in debris. Some of the holes on the walls were covered by motivational poster of different animals. The one thing relatively new was the smart board the school instead at was located in front of the rows of desks. My eyes have probably wandered over every inch of the classroom in hopes of entertaining himself. Sadly all I could ever see was a dying room with students being deprived of life.
I stared, longing to go outside from inside my jail cell…sorry, classroom. But truthfully, what was the difference between the two? In both cases, people were locked up for only one hour outside (if you were lucky). They could die in both places, whether from someone stabbing them or someone ruining their chances of climbing the school's social hierarchy. Or, in my case, boredom.
"Ansel." The guard…sorry my English teacher said.
Another thing that relates to them is that teachers were just jail guards tasked with making us work. Or, in the case of my English teacher, Ms.Robinson, to torture us with readings. Honestly, whoever created the subject of English must have had a loose screw to make it a class where we had to analyze readings. I mean, why name it English class in the first place? Shouldn't it have been called reading class? You would think that for a subject to be English, we would be learning well, English, the language. Curse whoever created this subject.
"Mr.Ansel," Ms. Robinson called again.
Realizing that I must have been frowning when she called the first time, I straightened up. They hired Ms.Robinson as a new teacher at my school, John Kennedy High School, because the last teacher won the lottery. Ms. Robinson was around her twenties and had a slim, slender figure. She was about 5'2, give or take, with blond hair and blue eyes. Ms.Robinson had a distinct odor of cats and mice. Many students began to think she was a cat woman with a mouse infection.
"Yes," I answered.
The stares from my classmates told me I had messed up. When I met Ms. Robinson in the eyes, I knew they were right.
"You have not been paying attention to the lecture for a while now. Can you please tell me the figure of speech used on page 221 of our book?"
The worst part was that I needed my book on my desk. I shook my head, already knowing what would happen.
"Given you're wrong, I must punish you, but I'll give you a chance to make it right," she said.
While she made sure to make every English class as miserable as possible, her favorite pastime was giving students riddles to solve with a price system involved. Solve the riddle correctly, and she will pass you without having to do any work but fail. You give the entire class extra homework. When she first introduced it, many students were hesitant to do it; no one wanted to be the one to fail and make the class suffer. Fools, I had thought. I would have given it a shot if I had been smart enough. Sadly, her riddles related to English literature are not my strong suit. After realizing no one wanted to try, she punished it. If she caught you doing something wrong, she would give you a riddle and three days to solve it. The punishment was rather cruel; it was both a mental punishment for the person getting the riddle and a physical punishment because of the hateful looks the other students would give them. Then, giving them three days to solve it, it was as if she wanted to torture her prey before killing them. In total, five students were given a riddle. After the fifth, everyone followed the rules and did not dare do anything wrong. Even the most challenging and laziest students began participating and doing their work. Strangely enough, however, I had never gotten a riddle before. For some odd reason, Ms. Robinson refused to give me a riddle when I did something wrong. All she would make me do was read in front of the class. It had to be a strategy, I had concluded. To keep me on my toes, she would strike when I least expected.
"Please stand and read the new chapter I have assigned."
I let out a mental sigh. I had survived for another day. Truly, school felt like a prison. I stood reluctantly, but something changed before I could open the book. A cold shiver ran up my spine, causing me to drop my book. Except the book never dropped or existed. Everything around me disappeared, leaving me in a dark space. I turned to determine what happened, but the space changed when I looked back. The shapeless form of the darkness shifted and then turned into the school's hallway, with some rather strange changes. Where the lockers and room doors should be was a pathway of black flames. Up ahead of the path was the weirdest part of everything.
A grey owl and a black snake seem to be flying and slithering towards the only viable classroom door. Only the honor kids in our school took the theory of knowledge classroom. But what were these animals…turning around, I answered my question. Behind me was a lion with a snake for a tail. As it got closer, I realized it was a lion with a snake for a tail. My feet moved before I could take in more of my surroundings. A lion running towards you? You don't question it until you escape it. I ran past the animals reaching for the door, but before my hands could turn the knob, a loud thump pierced my head like a knife cutting through your skin. I blinked rapidly, taking in my new surroundings. I relaxed when I realized that I was back in the classroom. Everyone was looking at me weirdly. I looked over them, trying to ease my heavy panting. However, when I met Ms. Robinson, she wasn't giving me a weird look. Instead, her mouth parted slightly, and her eyes widened with surprise. The loud ringing of the school bell caused everyone to snap. Students were quick to get out of the classroom. I was no different. I picked up my book and bag, but before I could even move from my desk, Ms. Robinson appeared before me. It was almost like she flew to where I was.
"Oh, have a good day-"
"How are you feeling, Mr.Ansel," she said suspiciously. The question caught me off guard.
I stuttered to reply, "Um good?"
Her blue eyes stared at me more intently, causing me to flinch. I tried to move, but my legs felt glued to the ground.
"Any deaths in the family," she asked abruptly. Her question caused me to tilt my head in confusion.
"No," I answered.
Ms. Robinson opened her mouth to retort but was stopped by a sudden flash from outside, which caught our attention. Both of us walked over to the window. The scene before me looked like a scene out of a movie. The once clear sky and bright sun had long but been replaced. I knew Chicago had bipolar weather, but this was as if the world was ending. Dark grey thunderclouds covered the sky, leaving no trace of sunlight. A loud, deep rumbling could heard from the thunderclouds. It was so loud that the windows began to crack from just the sound. Then, from the rumbling came the lighting. But this lighting was different from the ones I had seen. These rays of lighting were more destructive, rapid, and brighter. Strangely, though, they seemed more visible with each strike. I watched as they streaked across the sky. It was both beautiful and terrifying. One ray struck a car in front of the school, causing the windows to shatter. I barely had enough time to shield my eyes in case any shards came this way. Luckily, no shards managed to hit me. Instead, I was assaulted by a vicious wind. The wind was ruthless, blowing so hard that I thought it would pick me up. I covered my face the best I could, and a second later, I felt something wet gently land on my arms. With the windows gone, I realized that it started to rain. Rain was pouring but slow and gentle, unlike the vicious rumbling, wind, and lighting. Even when they landed, they landed with such gentleness that it felt more like teardrops. No, it felt more like the sky was fighting with itself but crying as if it had both won and lost simultaneously. The wind increased, causing me to look away. I felt the gentle raindrops fall on my back until I felt nothing. Turning back, things returned to normal, almost like the storm had never happened. I stared in disbelief; just one moment, it was sunny, and then a thunderstorm came and went. I glanced at Ms. Robinson, staring intently at the thunderstorm. Then her face changed into pure and honest surprise.
In a barely audible whisper, she said something that made my legs want to run away.
"She's dead."
Nope, that was enough weirdness for me.
"Well, see you later, Ms. Robinson," I said, already walking.
She waved me away, still staring at the sky, but I looked at the sky just as I had a foot on the door. I felt sad and detached for some reason as if something important had been ripped away.
Stepping out of the classroom, I was ambushed by incoming traffic of students leading out. Our John Kennedy was a relatively small and old school, so the hallways were tight and cramped. Nevertheless, it was times like these that I was glad I was 5'5. Moving through open gaps like a snake, I reached my locker. Just when I thought I made it, a group circled around a particular person in front of my locker. The girl in front of my locker leaned against it as she continued her conversation. She played with a lock of her silky black hair that fell loosely in front of her. She leaned back with her legs shoulder-width apart, a habit she had from playing volleyball. Despite the baggy sweater that I was sure was mine, she had an athletic frame. When she noticed me, a smile appeared on her face. I walked closer until I was near the outside circle surrounding her.
"Alicia, what-"someone tried to ask but stopped when Alicia pushed herself off my locker and moved towards me. The group parted for her, making her her own runway. It always surprised me how far people take this social hierarchy in high school. It seemed ridiculous, but it was just something that came to be. Alicia, of course, stood at the top of this hierarchy. Not only because of her beauty but also because she was athletic, ranked 5th in our grade, and had an outstanding personality. I, on the other hand, didn't exist in their hierarchy. I was outcasted, which was partially due to my unique features. My unnatural dark navy blue hair and pale gold eyes made everyone look at me like some kind of freak. Even now, as Alicia approached me, her admirers stared at me disgustingly. Not that I wasn't used to it by now. Yet when Alicia looked at me, there was no disgust; instead, it was replaced by earnestness.
"You're late. We were supposed to go meet the others at the door, but they went on ahead," she said, poking my forehead, which wasn't much of a struggle since we were about the same height.
Alicia and I were partners in our history class by some odd twist of fate. That's when she began to talk to me more and more until it became common for us to talk to each other before lunch and after school. Today, however, we were supposed to meet with other people to work on another history project with other people.
"Sorry," I said, walking towards my locker.
Alicia followed behind, waving goodbye to her group of admirers.
Alicia spoke more quietly when they all left, "Sorry about that. One came, and then all of them suddenly arrived. But look I brought a coffee as an apology."
Alicia knew how some people treated me, so she tried to get people to change their opinion of me. That had proven more difficult than she thought. Ultimately, she settled for not trying to bring so much attention when we spoke, which was hard when everyone wanted to be close to her. I had assured her that I was used to it and that she shouldn't be upset about it.
Flashing her a teasing smile, I said, "It can't be helped since the princess of this school was leaning against my locker. I should be thanking you for the honor."
She grinned, "Well, you kept this princess waiting, so ice cream is on you."
She stuck her chin up, trying to imitate a princess. After a moment, we laughed as we walked out of the school.
Once we were outside, I stopped and looked around.
"Where's Peter? I thought he would at least be here," I asked.
Peter was a transfer student from Greece because their parents had split up. When he first arrived, he looked like any other kid except for his grey eyes, which seemed to calculate every move someone made. That and he was the only person with auburn hair. But unlike other students or people, Peter appeared to know almost nothing about the things around us. When he first arrived, he was amazed by the intercom. In the end, people consider him an outcast. Strangely, it didn't matter to Peter, almost as if he was used to being considered an outcast. It was safe to say that he and I got along very well. I came to think of him as my first best friend and friend. That's why, looking at Alicia's downfall face, I began to worry.
"He said that he had a family emergency on this mom's side of the family. Apparently, someone died, so he had to go back to Greece to attend a funeral."
I frowned. Peter hardly mentioned his mom's side of the family, but when he did, there was always a hateful snarl in his words. We continued towards the ice cream shop in silence, partly due to me being too consumed by the weird image of the owl and snake. Too lost in thought, I failed to notice the apparent foot sticking out of a bush before me. Typically, my reflexes would fail me, but today, my reflexes are more refined and quick to respond to. My hands stuck out, supporting me, and then, with a push, I jumped in the air and landed on my feet. Alicia looked just as surprised as I did. We started at each other for a moment until the rustling of the bush caused us to look at it. A boy about 6'2 stepped out of the bush, rubbing his hazel eyes in disbelief. He loomed over us as he made his way towards me. When he stood before me, I shivered at the noticeable differences. While I was thin and had a weak frame, the boy in front of me had the build of a football player with arms the size of my head and legs the width of both my legs. One punch or kick from him would have been enough to kick all the air out of me. Of course, I knew this because ever since kindergarten, I have been getting kicked and punched by him. My personal bully for nine years that I can't seem to get rid of.
"Real mature Lucas, shouldn't you be in football practice?" Alicia said, coming to my aid.
Lucas turned, looking at Alicia, his eyes examining her but never meeting her eyes. Lucas' eyes always stayed glued to her upper body and occasionally looked down at her waist. Under his gaze, Alicia made a face of disgust and stepped back. Somehow, I could feel Alicia's fear, making me flinch.
"What can I do for you, Lucas? I came to get advice on how to be smart," I asked.
I relaxed as I saw Alicia calm down from being under Lucas' gaze. Except now it was I that was simmering under his gaze.
"What can an idiot like you even teach me," he grins.
"How to brush your teeth, apparently," I said, causing him to flinch.
Although I was his punching bag for my entire life, that didn't mean I didn't know anything about him, either. For example, Lucas had a specific condition that caused his breath to smell extremely bad, and he also had a crush on Alicia. I smirked as he turned to look at Alicia, who raised an eyebrow at him. Snapping his head to me, he glared at me, walking away. I watched him walked away with satisfaction, however my satisfaction faltered as Lucas' shadows bowed to me despite Lucas' retreating figure. I blinked then looked again only to see Lucas' shadow acting normal. I glanced at the cup coffee in my hand and walked over to the nearest trash can. Maybe mom was right, too much coffee is probably worst than drugs.
"Does he really have bad breath?"
Alicia asked after some time. I let out a laugh.
"You bet. Aww, but don't worry princess, he'll still continue to seek you."
Alicia rolled her eyes and grabbed the sides of her sweater. She tugged on them as if hugging herself with the shirt.
"By the way, when can I expect my sweater," I asked teasingly.
Alicia didn't answer. Instead, she hurried into the ice cream shop, but before fully stepping in, she popped her head out of the door frame.
"Never," she said with a smile. The door closed, leaving me dumbfounded at the ice cream shop's door. I thought she did not have sweaters. Shaking my head, I went to open the door, but before I did, a voice rang in my head.
'Hide you are in danger'.
The voice was ominous and hollow, like a spirit speaking to me. I looked around, startled, but I saw nothing except passing cars. Yeah I've had too much coffee. I must be going crazy, I thought before entering the shop.