Chapter 3: You're giving me trouble
Eva's POV
I sat in class, but the mathematics teacher's words were falling on deaf ears. I was consumed by my emotions, desperately fighting back tears. I wanted to cry out loud, to scream at the top of my lungs, to release the pent-up frustration and humiliation. But I remained silent, trying to hold it together. The feeling of being overwhelmed was suffocating me, and I couldn't wait for the class to end. I was counting down the minutes, willing the clock to tick faster so I could escape the torment and find some solace. The classroom, once a place of learning, had become a space of suffering, and I just wanted to flee.
As soon as the bell rang, signaling the end of the mathematics class, I felt a surge of relief. I waited patiently for the teacher to pack up and leave the room. The moment he stepped out, I didn't hesitate or look back at my classmates, fearing they would continue to taunt me. I quickly made a swift exit, almost running out of the classroom. I couldn't get out of there fast enough, eager to escape the toxic atmosphere and find some refuge from the bullying and embarrassment I had endured.
I hurt so badly, both physically and emotionally, that I felt like I had a deep injury from the fall earlier, caused by Garvin's malicious trick. The pain still lingered, and the humiliation had only added to my suffering. I left the classroom as quickly as I could and made my way to the restroom, seeking a safe space to collect my thoughts and try to calm down.
As soon as I entered the restroom, the tears I had been holding back for so long finally burst forth uncontrollably. The pain and humiliation I had endured—from the moment Garvin grabbed and pushed me to the fall in the classroom—became too much to bear. I sobbed, covering my mouth to muffle the sound, afraid that someone might hear me and discover my vulnerability. I cried for what felt like an eternity, my body shaking with sobs. I stared at myself in the mirror, feeling like I was stabbing myself with my own self-blame and despair. I couldn't believe that this was what I had to face in this school, at the hands of these privileged and entitled rich kids. The thought of it was almost too much to bear.
After crying for what felt like an eternity, I finally composed myself. I cleaned my tears, washed my face, and stood at the mirror, assessing the damage. My eyes were puffy, my cheeks were swollen, and my face was red from crying. I washed my face again, using damp toilet paper to gently pat away the remaining tears. Then, I took a deep breath and began to arrange my uniform, trying to erase any signs of distress. I pretended as if nothing had happened, as if I hadn't cried my heart out just moments before. I took a few more deep breaths, exhaling slowly, trying to focus on the brighter side of things. I attempted to shake off the lingering emotions, telling myself that I needed to move forward, no matter how difficult it seemed.
When I finally emerged from the restroom, I walked slowly back to the classroom, aware that all eyes were on me. I deliberately avoided eye contact with the students, refusing to give them the satisfaction of seeing me rattled. I tried my best to tune out their whispers and snickers, ignoring the hurtful comments and strange looks. I kept my face straight, my expression neutral, and focused on getting to class. I was determined not to let their words get to me, to rise above the bullying and harassment. With a sense of relief, I finally reached my classroom—another place of torment.
As I entered the classroom, I walked calmly to my seat, trying to ignore the lingering stares and whispers from my classmates. I had almost reached my seat when I realized that my backpack was nowhere to be found. I was shocked and confused, knowing that I had left it there before going to the restroom. I scanned the area around my seat, but it was nowhere to be seen. I checked under the desk, around the nearby chairs, and even on the floor, but my backpack had vanished. A sense of panic began to set in as I wondered if someone had taken it or if I had somehow misplaced it. My mind raced with worst-case scenarios.
I took a deep breath and began searching for my backpack in the classroom. I knew I hadn't taken it out of there, so I was sure it had to be somewhere. I searched around my seat, but it was nowhere to be found. That's when I realized someone must have moved it. I looked at the girl sitting near my seat and noticed her body shaking. I approached her and asked, "Hey, have you seen my backpack?" She ignored me, but I continued asking, "Are you sure you haven't seen it?" She kept ignoring me, as if trying to avoid the issue. I wondered to myself, "Is there a problem here?" The situation seemed strange, and I couldn't understand why she was behaving that way.
She was ignoring me, but it wasn't that she didn't want to answer me. She seemed scared to respond. I wondered why she was frightened. Her body was shaking, and I could sense her fear. I asked her again, "Hey, I'm asking you a question." She finally looked at me, but with a warning glance, as if telling me to back off. Then, she quickly looked away, and I followed her gaze. That's when I saw where she was looking—at Garvin. It was as if she was afraid of him, afraid to speak in front of him, or afraid of what he might do if she answered me. My eyes locked onto Garvin, and I could feel a surge of anger and suspicion. What did he have to do with my missing backpack?