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Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Dark · #1742582
A preview of the fourth installment in the life of Jade Anstice.
The silence that followed the sound of the door closing behind whoever entered the room seemed to make the walls close in around me and the air thick and suffocating. Every eye, including Mrs. James’, was fixated on the presence of the person behind me but I couldn’t move. I didn’t dare. Some innate instinct told me to remain still – to fight the urge to turn around. Instead, I lifted my eyes to Mrs. James and saw confusion, incredulity, and something else. Was that fear? Before I could put my finger on it, the spell that held the room in its silent state broke and the sound of whispers being passed around was nearly deafening in its absence.

Visibly shaking herself out of her state, Mrs. James called the rare moment of disorder in her room to a stop before turning to address the individual that had yet to move into a seat.

“May I help you?”

“I hope so. This is Honors English 12?” came the distinctly male voice in response.

That voice was all it took to convince my brain that my body had been right to stop itself from turning around. The shiver that raced along my spine now was still filled with fear but it was laced with something else entirely, something equally dangerous that caused my body to react in foreign and unwanted ways. From sound of female giggling in the room, apparently every other girl in the room felt something when he spoke, too. Even Mrs. James fingered the chain holding her glasses before she caught herself.

“It is. I take it you’re the new student, Mr . . .” she trailed off while she shifted through the roster of class names.

“Herrington. Blake Herrington.” he finished for her.

“Right. Well, Mr. Herrington, given it’s your first day I’ll be lenient but you should know that I do not tolerate tardiness in my class. Please, have a seat and see me after class for a list of the assigned readings for the rest of the semester.”

“Understood.” came the cool reply.

I couldn’t see from my position but I could feel his attention shift from Mrs. James, to me, and finally, to the room to find a seat. From my periphery I could see girls sitting straighter in their seats, running fingers through their hair, and smiling shyly hoping he would sit by them until he chose a seat somewhere out of my sight line.

“Now, Jade. Would you enlighten us on what was significant about the first act of Hamlet?” Mrs. James asked drawing the attention of most of the class back on me.

I could feel the heat of my embarrassment rising back up into my face but I tried to control it long enough to reach back into my memory to find what she was looking for. Biting my lip at the sound of a few snickers, I closed my eyes and tried to visualize the scene. I could see the castle and the guards outside the gate at night. I could picture a ghost and thankfully it all came back.

“Tone,” I said quietly as I opened my eyes and focused my attention solely on Mrs. James, “Shakespeare sets the tone of the play when the ghost of the murdered king shows up. It lets the audience know that this isn’t a comedy. It’s going to be a dark tragedy.”

“Good. Now have a seat and see me after school.” Mrs. James says with a small, pleased smile as she turns to the rest of the class and launches into her lecture.

Relieved to finally have this nightmare over with I head for the available seat closest to the window. Dropping myself into the seat I open my notebook and raise my hood back over my head, going back into the shell I’ve created for myself for two years now. Halfway through the lecture I feel same shiver I felt when Blake entered the room and grip my pencil, sinking a little lower into my chair, keeping my eyes determinedly on my notes. An instant later the sensation is gone and I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

By the time class is over I’m more than happy to grab my notebook and bolt for the door unlike every other female in the room who seemed to linger around longer than normal while packing their backpacks, talking to friends, and passing glances in the one direction I refused to look.
© Copyright 2011 Ashley McLaine (ashleymclaine at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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