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Meadow sat at the corner of La Rowe. She was looking at the sky. A faint voice, in my mind, told me to join her. I shook it away. Meadow's hair was flowing onto her shoulders in perfect layers, the colors seemed different on each strand. Yet, in unison, they formed a solid brown. Her eyes reflected the stars. The moon shone right upon her back, lightening the tan of her skin. Her magic was already affecting her appearance, she was changing.
I felt her sense my presence. I hid in the nearby alley.
Meadow stood up and swung her head left and right, in search of me. “Faye!” She yelled. “Where are you? I know you're here. Please, talk to me!”
She started to call my necklace. My crystal lit up, gleaming on my pale neck. I ripped it off and it shattered, shards diffused across the ground. Their light shining softly and slowly. Then, I ran.
I ran in the opposite direction. Far away from the shards, from Tristan, from magic, and even from Meadow. A new wave of tears streamed from my eyes.
“Faye Lonsdale, wake up!”
The scene in front of me fluttered into view. A classroom filled with students, with an angry man hovering over me, blocking out the rest of the background.
A realization made my face redden.
I had fallen asleep in class, the tenth time this week. And, also the tenth time to get yelled at by Mr. Scarret.=2
0He makes it seem, as though, it's my fault that I fall asleep, if he wasn't so monotonous and boring I'd be more than willing to...
“Are you going to wake up or not?” Mr. Scarret's screaming voice rang in my ears.
I had fallen asleep again. I heard the stifled giggles and chuckles of the rest of the class.
I slowly raised my head, and smiled at the irate man before me. “I'm awake.”
“The fact that you have an A in my class completely baffles me.” Mr. Scarret said, under his breath, walking back to the front of the classroom.
Crib notes was my mental answer.
The bell rang sooner than I had expected. I had slept that long? Mr. Scarret had let me sleep that long?
I gathered my books into one neat pile, on my desk, and put them in my disastrous envelope called a backpack. I smiled at my own mess. It, somehow, comforted me to see messes. Being neat was a definite pain in the a**.
I stood up from my chair and put my backpack on. My left side drooped under the weight of my books. I rubbed my shoulder under the strap, which was ripping into my skin. I walked past Mr. Scarret bowing my head, hoping to get past him unnoticed.
“Faye!” Mr. Scarret said, not looking up from his papers.
I stopped, practically to the door, and turned around and to look at Mr. Scarret. He seemed to be insulted, or completely unperturbed. I couldn't tell. “Yes...Mr. Scarret?”
“Faye, this isn't the first time you've fallen asleep in my class.” He looked up for a second to give me a cold stare. “And I doubt it will be the last.” He paused. I noticed that his hand were gripping the papers aggressively.
I cringed. “I know. I'm sorry. I've been having a rough time sleeping, lately. Only in your class am I able to actually sleep. Not that you're boring or anything.” I waved my hands around, in an attempt to emphasize my words.
“Of course not, Miss Lonsdale. Me, boring? Impossible.”
I searched his face for humor or sarcasm. There was none. His face stayed in a permanent frown. That really isn't a great way to prevent wrinkles.
“But, in any case, you are not paying attention or taking notes. Yet, you still manage to pull straight A's. Making you one of my top students. And from speaking with your other professors, this is not a common thing for you. In other words, you're not a natural straight A student. So, how are you pulling it off? Do you dream about my lectures?”
“Uh, I really don't know.” I couldn't answer a question, that I didn't know the answer to. Why was it that the one class that I was never awake in, the one class that allowed me to sleep and enter the unreal world of fantasy that lied, subtly, underneath my subconscious,20was the one class that I was doing spectacularly well in. It was History class. Seriously, that's one of the most boring subjects, and taught by Mr. Scarret. Talk about in school suicide attempts. I was practically a straight C student. How, the hell, was I pulling this off?
I wasn't even cheating off other people's tests. When he gives me the test I, immediately, know every answer. I barely even have to read the question. It was like magic. But, this was the only class I could do it in. Every other class, I blank on all of the tests.
Mr. Scarret just stared at me. It looked like he was trying to read my mind. Weirdo. “Fine, then, you can go.” He said, returning to his work.
Phew. I walked back to the door, swiftly. As I touched the handle, I felt a sharp electric spark on my fingertips. I jerked my hand away.
“Is something wrong, Miss Lonsdale?” I felt Mr. Scarret's eyes on me.
What was that? “No, nothing. I'm fine. Have a nice day.” I grabbed the handle again. Nothing. I walked out of the door, completely freaked out.