Chapter 30: "Sup, Girl"
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~~~ [START]
"Emily," the teacher said as he walked to a teen who was sitting at the far back. "3." And the entire class laughed at her predicament.
He shook his head, gave her the paper, and moved to the next.
"Owen." And you could see the sweat on Owen's face as the teacher called his name. "5." And he sighed in relief, but even then, the class still laughed.
"Vlad," the teacher's voice continued, but this time, his expression housed an enormous grin of acknowledgement. "100." And the class clapped their hands in disbelief, some, if not all of them, inwardly cursed, as their hearts could only grow envious.
Vlad took his paper, and at the very top, the teacher had drawn a smiley face, perhaps as a way to encourage the young man he considered brilliant.
He moved to Rosalie, placed a page on her desk, and slightly giggled.
"You almost had it," he spoke in a whisper. "99." And once again, the class clapped their hands in acknowledgment, but this time, the claps weren't as loud as they were when they clapped for Vlad. Did they hate her? No, they were just too tired of endlessly clapping for a total of what seemed to be more than a dozen students.
"This is terrible," the teacher said as he moved to the front. "The class average was 30." He shook his head. "30."
He then placed the remaining folders of paper that were in his hands on his desk. "I understand that this was a surprise test," he acknowledged, "and I also understand that this is a topic we haven't yet done in class." He walked to the board and took a broken piece of chalk. "The world is like a room," he explained while drawing a box on the board. "Each and every desk you are currently sitting on is your life." He drew six boxes inside the box's four large corners. He stopped when he finished and turned to all of them. He picked up a duster, then pointed it in their direction. "This is life." He turned to the board and erased the boxes he had drawn.
Unlike what one would expect, he only did it once, which meant that not all the drawn boxes were fully erased; some were only partially, while others had been wiped out.
"It doesn't matter how you were born," he placed his duster on the chalkboard stand. "It doesn't matter what you face," he continued, his voice intensifying with more emotion, "or how you look, or what you eat." Then his eyes held firm, and his words stood unshaken. "Will you fade with the stroke from the duster?" His question hit deep. "When that duster of what is called life passes past you, will you fade?" he asked again, as if in fear it would be overlooked.
"This is math," he finally announced. "It doesn't care if you study; it doesn't care if you are rich," he breathed out after his long-spoken sentences. "If you ever pass this class, it's only because you are lucky," he said. "So you better hope you pray to God, because this," he pointed at the almost completely faded boxes he had drawn,
"this is his language." He then turned his head to Emily. "This is the language of God."
_____
Bella was seated in her seat, listening to the ongoing chaos that erupted in class after the economics teacher was fired in front of the class by the principal.
And by her observation, it could only mean that the two hours she was supposed to spend on economics would most likely be dismissed as a free period, and honestly, that fact made the day surprisingly pleasant.
Feeling bored, Bella laid her head on her desk, exhaustion creeping in like a creeper.
It was weird, the fact that she was feeling tired. It was only morning, and it had been four hours since the periods had begun.
She was overthinking, so she presumed that was the reason for her feeling of fatigue.
Was it Edward?
Was the thought of him truly that impossible to resist?
It had been three days, and today marked the fourth.
Was she truly that stinky?
Was he really that sensitive to scent?
Bella raised her head and moved her hands to her skull, running them through her hair, and finally accepted that this was the main core of the thoughts that mostly fueled her mind.
Sure, he was good-looking, and she knew he was hot.
Was that the reason?
Was that why he seemed too hard to resist?
She couldn't even keep him out of her mind for more than a few seconds.
It definitely couldn't be looks, could it?
If it was, why wasn't she thinking of Vlad?
He was clearly more good-looking, so why?
She had only seen him twice, but the pull she was feeling felt too sudden to be true.
So she laid her head down once again, in wait for a teacherless class to end, in wait for the next period: lunch.
_____
RING!
The bell broke the silence.
As each and every student, including both Rosalie and Vlad, sighed in relief.
Four hours—they had spent four hours in math, surprisingly, because the economics teacher was apparently fired.
Vlad didn't do economics, but that same teacher was the person who taught him physics, so the math teacher, one who was always too ungenerous with his work, suggested that instead of a free period, the students should do math instead.
And, to the surprise of no one but the naive, the school instantly agreed, which caused Vlad and the rest of the class to attend math for what could only be seen as the longest period to ever exist.
So the class got up and packed their belongings, each one of them truly relieved.
It was lunch, so the thought of food only fueled their resolve.
But as Vlad was fixing his bag to ready his leave, his eyes caught the attention of a nearing shadow that was moving in his direction.
Shifting his eyes and raising his head, Vlad saw her.
"Uh… sup?" he said awkwardly as he noted her figure standing above his seated body, waiting. "Rosalie?"
~~~ [END]
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