Now, I could start this story with one of those famous lines like, "It was the best of times it was the worst of times," but I won't. Although it just might make a little sense... Still. It wouldn't even begin to explain it all! I mean, how was I supposed to know this would happen? My father never bothered to I guess I could see why he wouldn't... But honestly! I never thought... I guess that's my problem. I didn't think hard enough. ~Ember
Ember kicked off her shoes under the desk she had been seated at for the past half an hour and tapped her pencil idly against a spiral notebook. Her science teacher, Mr. Collins, was droning on about last week’s lesson; doing what he assumed was summing it up. Ember didn’t bother to pay attention.
Instead, she wiggled her now-free toes and imagined Mr. Collins’ voice becoming so monotonous that the words blended together; Becoming a low hum and then fading away, eventually completely stopping. She smiled to herself and started scratching lazily at the paper in front of her, substituting the tapping with a new noise. Biting her lower lip out of a mixture of concentration and habit, she blended lines of graphite together in an attempt to create the image of a feather.
Feathers, Ember mused. The corners of her mouth turned down slightly. It was a good drawing. The lines were well blended together, it was shaded correctly, and it overall looked like a real feather. However, that’s not what perturbed her. It was just...
She would have taken an eraser to it without a second thought, if not for the stack of papers that landed on her desk, hiding her view. She took a paper off of the top of the pile and passed the rest back over her head without turning around. Her heart dropped past her feet as she read the title of her class’s new lesson. Taking care to re-read the small phrase once more, she felt as if the letters were cutting pits into her stomach. Without lifting her head, she flicked her eyes up to the front of the room.
Passed the rows of students in individual desks she met eyes with her science teacher. Mr. Collins regarded Ember through the straight blond curtain of her hair.
Just then, the end of school bell rang out, causing Ember to jump into a straight-sitting position. She exhaled the breath that she had no idea she was holding in. Rising out of her seat, she pushed her hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ears. She kept an eye on Mr. Collins as she crammed her notebooks into her messenger bag and after a small moment’s consideration of her drawing, she wrinkled her nose and tore the page away before stashing the notebook in her bag.
“Hiya!” a brunette girl came to Ember’s side and grinned.
“Rebeca, you greet me as if you didn’t talk to me a half an hour ago,” Ember smirked at her friend.
“Should I not?” the brunette didn’t wait for a reply, “Ready to walk home?”
“Sure,” she followed the bouncy girl out of the classroom. Her fist convulsively tightened around her drawing, crumpling it, as Mr. Collins’ greeted them when they passed his desk. Something about him gave her the creeps.