Staying After ClassMature

Camilla:


Biology goes by in a flash; admittedly, public schooling was okay so far. Not especially good, but not horrible, either. There were a few things I didn't like about it, though, like how many kids there were or how I couldn't talk to Strikey or interact with him in any way without getting confused looks. 

As class ends, everyone packs up their things and hurries out of class. I get up, grab my backpack, and make to leave the room with Ryder trailing a few feet behind me. He's still stuffing his belongings into his backpack as he walks.

"Camilla," Mrs. Green says gently, watching us. "Could we speak in private?" 

I gulp, unsure of what I did wrong, but I managed to stutter out a reply. "S-sure."

Ryder glances up from his backpack to look at me, and then the teacher. "I'll meet you outside, I guess." 

"Alright," I mumble as he walks out the door and stands in the hallway, watching us through the glass pane in the door.

"So, Camilla. Your mother told me that you homeschooled before you came here," Mrs. Green says, forcing my attention back to her. I nod nervously. "She also said you had some... mental problems..."

'Sure she did. Why wouldn't she? Why wouldn't she ruin my chance at starting over new?' I think, pure fury rising up inside me.

She seems to notice this, as she sits down and stares at me with a pitying look. "I know how you must feel, Camilla. Having Schizophrenia is not easy... especially when you're somewhere new, with new people, and you're nervous," she says.

I can tell she's acting as if she understands me and that she thinks she's helping, but I know that she doesn't understand at all. Nor is she helping me. 

"Is there something you need to ask me? I really need to get to the next class," I mumble, making up an excuse to leave.

"What were doing with your backpack earlier?" She asks, staring at me with a mixture of pity and curiosity. 

In my head, I know there's only one word to explain what I was doing with my backpack. At the same time, I know she won't understand it; but I tell her anyway.

"Strikey," I hiss at her, letting my fury out. Not giving her the chance to respond, I turn around and walk out. She stares helplessly after me as I leave, not bothering to get up or come after me. 

The End

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