The Beginning of The End

Art Attack

Scarlett

A lesson with an awful teacher is the least of my worries now. In fact the chances are that I will never have another art lesson in my life. But that day, two/three weeks ago a crazy teacher seemed to be a massive problem. Now I would give anything for a double art lesson with Miss Evans every Monday and Maths with Mr Williams 3 times a week but I have no such luck. I have found that you can spend your life wondering what if - What if we had never seen that bee that day? How would my life be different now? But no one can give you the answer and I have discovered that instead of asking what if, you should accept the situation you are facing, the past events have already happened, and try to find the best thing to do now because time doesn't give you a second chance, you can't go back and change what has happened you can only move forwards. You should try to make the most out of the future as you will never be able to change the past.

***

Double art with Miss Evans was the reason we hated Mondays. It was not as most people would think because Monday signalled the end of the weekend or because Monday meant that we had to wait 5 days until we had another one. It was because Monday meant we had to suffer spending time with a teacher who had gone off the rails. Her creativity had driven her insane and everyone was slightly afraid of her wacky, unpredictable nature.

Miss Evans was a train wreck waiting to happen. Her wardrobe consisted of mismatched bright colours, long skirts and shirts. Her perfume dated back 12 years and was worn so heavily it filled a room with intoxicating fumes within minutes but her personality was the most frightening. She told us stories of when she was growing up which I swear were totally inappropriate for art lessons. Her nickname for us was 'my fluffy bunnies' which really annoyed the boys. And 'word of the week' was a weird thing but apparently, it was to increase our knowledge of vocabulary which was definitely not important to know when you were drawing pictures. She was constantly criticizing our artwork, especially Sophia's saying that "her 4-year-old son could draw better". Once she had graded my work with an A just to follow it by drawing on it then feeding me the same excuse when it had been her who had messed it up. She even took a photo of Hattie doing some art homework at sports day last year saying that "now she had proof that she actually did work".

Today she walked through the door with a panicked look on her face but trying to cover it up with an 'everything's fine' expression. We could all tell it wasn't but we had to ignore it so that so wouldn't launch into one of her lectures about how when she was younger children didn't talk unless they were spoken to or something like that. She had been one of the teachers who had run outside following the shouts from other students at lunch. I focused on my half-finished art coursework. The A3 page was littered with pencil sketches of natural images in contrast to the industrial buildings created using blocks of dark black ink that crowded the page. Some of the sketches I had coloured in with pure pale pinks, whites, lilacs, yellows and oranges. But there was too much blank space which I was struggling to fill as my ideas dwindled.

I couldn't focus - too many thoughts swirling through my mind and still huge gaps on the page. It didn't help that Hattie was smiling at Mike who was perched on his stool like a statue and definitely not doing any work.

I pushed Hattie for answers in hushed tones. "What gives? You have been smiling for ages were you not aware that we were being attacked by giant bees only a few moments ago?"

Hattie grinned she was enjoying the confused look on my face. Unconcerned by the fact that we were supposed to be silently working on our art she replied at a totally unsubtle volume. "Mike asked me out."

I looked at her. Was that it? I pushed for more. "And..."

"And I said yes obviously. God Scarlett, sometimes you can be so unobservant." That was rich but I ignored it. I was too shocked that she would do that. Even though I had overheard some of their conversation earlier. I couldn't believe that she could be so stupid and then call me unobservant.

"What?" John's voice was louder than it should have been; after all, we were supposed to be in silence - as in this conversation shouldn't be happening at all.

"Yes, your ears are working." Some answer. I didn't think Hattie could be so two-faced. This must be Mike's bad influence. Was it spreading already?

John's face turned sour. I didn't blame him - the cousin rivalry had reached a new low and one of his best friends had fallen for his nightmare of a cousin and was causing herself harm. Not only that but she was in denial about the problems this would cause and the rift it could create between us.

"I believe I told you to continue working in silence this lesson. Hattie you of all people shouldn't be talking, your coursework page is almost empty." I looked up to find that Miss Evans was peering over my shoulder. Her foul-smelling breath and ancient perfume were suffocating me. I looked away taking a breath through the sleeve of my shirt as it was the only way to get reasonably clean air into my lungs and stop me from choking.

"Sorry, we were just talking about our coursework. It helps us to concentrate" That was a poor excuse for Hattie who easily negotiates her way out of anything.

"Well if your conversation is so beneficial maybe it would be better shared with everyone." Unlucky us we had been caught in the middle of Miss Evans down period.

Praying for the next high that would remove Miss Evans from her depressed mean state I stepped in. "Hattie was just criticising my drawing saying that I was missing the obvious fine details on the Lily I just drew." I prayed the answer would satisfy Miss Evans.

"She's right. Your shading is all wrong- my 4-year-old son could draw better than that." Standard Miss Evans was back, lucky me.

She moved away. Hattie mouthed a 'thank you' in my direction before focusing her attention back on Mike and doodling in her planner instead of actually drawing on her art. There was no way she was going to pass her exams but that was her problem, not mine.

I fixed my lily and with still no inspiration coming I started drawing random pictures in the back of my sketchbook.

A nearly silent knock on the glass caught my attention. God, I must be bored I would never have heard that normally.

I looked behind me, out of the grubby school windows that hadn't been cleaned since December 3 years ago and saw the thing I least expected to see. Irony at work again. It was the bee from earlier but this time it was accompanied by others. However, all were a normal size again. My mind was trying to understand why? I believed that I was the only one who had noticed it. I glanced at Sophia knowing she would freak if she saw it but her head was bent over her work and she was biting the end of her pencil deep in thought.

I kicked Alex under the table he met my eyes. Owww he spoke through his eyes.

Sorry. I felt a bit mean but I had to get his attention and it worked. Look out of the windows.

His eyes moved over my head and his face registered surprise as he saw the reason I had drawn his attention. What are they doing?

I thought hard about his question but I didn't know the answer. I shook my head reluctantly.

Alex's eyes clouded which thought as he turned within himself. Only to re-emerge a few seconds later with no answer. I could see the frustration written clearly on his face.

The banging on the windows intensified and I fought the urge to turn around.

Too late Sophia came out of her distracted state and turned around staring at the bees behind the glass. I physically spun round - no use hiding it anymore.

Sophia looked as if she was about to run out of the room screaming without a second glance, she was that panicked.

The bees were knocking against the window now. How stupid I sent the message to Alex with my eyes as if that was going to do anything. There were a few centimetres of dirty glass between them and us.

Despite all logic, Miss Evans was working herself into a panic that she would probably never recover from. Her tone of voice and body presence made that obvious to everyone.

The panicked comments from Miss Evans that were supposed to reassure us were interrupted by a loud cracking sound. That was impossible. One bee had stung the window. It cracked. Things were going from bad to worse.

Then came a ticking sound like a countdown for a bomb. How could this happen, they were just bees. I started counting. The ticking stopped as I reached 40. We waited in the few seconds of silence. A few brave students inched closer. At the start of the ticking the students close by had moved away but now a few crept forward like tourists at the site of an accident. Most of our class were huddled in one half of the classroom waiting for something to happen.

The explosion came when we least expected it sending dirt, dust and shattered glass in our direction.

The classroom glittered with a million hazardous fragments. The swarm entered. They started growing again. Doubling, tripling all the time.

Sophia was on the verge of fainting but the approaching danger kept her conscious.

"Everyone get out of the school. Go home. Keep yourself safe." Miss Evans voice was surprisingly in control in the middle of all this chaos as if she was an expert who knew exactly what she was doing.

Students swarmed through the corridor joining other classes that had suffered the same fate. There was a call for everyone to evacuate the school and we were all happy to comply.

Pupils ran in every direction scattering but the bees kept coming. They were faster, they were stronger and we were outnumbered. The car park was a battlefield on which man was fighting beast but the beast was winning. Children fell unable to run any further. The teachers gathered as many students in each car as possible and drove away at full speed. How could this happen? Innocent lives in trouble. We kept running. I didn't want any of us harmed. I took the shortcut to my house. It was the fastest way to safety from the school. My friends close on my tail their breathing coming in heavy rugged gasps. When the sounds of battle could no longer be heard we slowed to a walk.

We reached my house. I had had my key in my hand for a few minutes and without hesitation, I instantly turned it in the lock. We all ventured in even Alex though he only lived next door - as they say, there's safety in numbers. From the hallway that opened up behind the door, I lead my friends to the first door on the left - the main living room which touched the side of Alex's house. It was in this room that we had said we would install the door to permanently connect the two houses.

The door opened to reveal my parent's sitting nervously on the sofas. Alex's parents sat opposite them cradling 3-year-old Kira, Alex's sister, in their arms. Our suitcases were stacked against the far wall. I spotted my pink polka dot suitcase full to bursting and extended as far as it would go. It bulged with what looked like hastily packet objects that didn't quite fit in. Alex's bright neon orange suitcase was standing nearby leaning against the wall. It definitely stood out against the cream walls of our living room. The television was on. The screen showed the local news channel. The pictures showed our school building. All the windows had been smashed like the ones in our art room. There were streaks of crimson on the playground and the lights of an ambulance flashed in the background. The volume was muted but it was obvious from the images that they were speaking about the school's bee attack.

A million questions flashed through my mind. "Hi." I tried to keep the confusion from my voice but only increased it further. Alex face also registered surprise as he emerged from the hallway the rest of my friends in tow.

"Oh good your all here." Relief filled my mum's words but she continued. "The move has been rescheduled. We fly to America later this afternoon. It is unsafe here."

I open my mouth to say something but I was abruptly cut off by my father. "We were called at work, all the parents were. When we came home it was all over the news. If your school can be destroyed like that then we would prefer not to take the risk. We leave today and that is final." His words registered slowly. I hadn't told my friends I was moving and now they all knew and I hardly had a chance to say goodbye.

Daniel emerged from the kitchen through the door furthest away from where I stood. Daniel is my 18-year-old brother who thinks he's cooler than ice cubes. Any of the girls from school that see him when he used to pick me up from school informed me of how they think he is so amazing. He towers above me - his 6ft 5 body easily beating my 5ft 7 frame. It is so annoying. Unlucky for me along with everything else I also inherited my grandfather's short gene. Daniel's short black hair which perfectly matches the colour of the midnight sky is a big contrast to my silky white blonde that flows past my shoulders. His dark brown (almost black) eyes oppose my bright crystal clear blue ones. My eyes had often been described as the colour of a deep undisturbed pool of water. We are as different as siblings can be whilst still being blood relatives and therefore it is very rare to see us getting along.

Daniel's low-pitched voice answered the last question that still lingered in my mind. "Alex's family are coming with us. The house we brought in America is big enough for both families and we knew how happy you would be that you are not leaving everyone." That explains the suitcase. "Talking about heartfelt goodbyes hi everyone, I assume Scarlett hasn't told you yet, it is very like her to leave everything until the last minute. By the way, I packed your case so sorry that it's such a mess I couldn't be bothered to be careful." I wanted to murder him - like I said we never get on and he has such a way with words. He doesn't care about much that was why he was skipping college this afternoon on probably a second's notice.

I faced my friends, confusion covered with attempted blank expressions showed on their faces. I became more aware of the clock ticking away above the mantelpiece. As each agonizing second passed the time when I would be forced to leave grew closer. There were tears in Hattie's eyes. John looked awkward and out of place and Sophia's expression gave away the least. The goodbyes were emotional. I didn't want to leave but I couldn't disobey direct orders from my parents. As usual, Sophia said nothing but her hug gave away how she didn't trust her voice. She squeezed me tight not wanting to let go and in that embrace, I tried to lend her my confidence sure she would need it.

Less than an hour later we were ushered out the door and into two cars - our black mini was filled with suitcases and Alex's parents Mercedes had no room to move in the back, it was too full of luggage. My friends were left with orders to leave when they wanted but to make sure they properly shut the front door. And that was it I was on my way to America and leaving everything I loved behind.