September 17th: The haunted dream

Class Dismissed The bell rang, sharp and final. _Class dismissed._ I turned, just in time to see it again. Ethan, leaning too close, laughing too soft, twirling a strand of Rose's hair around his finger like it belonged to him. Rose giggled, that pretty, effortless giggle that makes boys stupid. Ethan is my boyfriend. Rose is my cousin. My blood. Any other girl would have stood up, screamed, flipped a desk. I should have felt rage burning up my throat. But I didn't. God, I wish I had. Instead, there was just this hollow, tired ache in my chest, like my heart had given up before I did. Ever since he met her, it's been Rose this, Rose that. I have become a ghost in my own love story, watching them look so perfect together it made my stomach twist. My name is Yvonne. I'm 16. And I am tired. I dragged my music notebook toward me, pressed my forehead to the cold desk, and covered my face. The pages smelled like old paper and pencil shavings. I just wanted to disappear for a minute. I fell asleep to the sound of their laughter. Then the world screamed. _BRRRREEEEE!_ The fire alarm tore through the school. I shot up so fast my chair screeched back. My heart was not beating, it was hammering, trying to escape my ribs. Anyone who knows me knows one thing: I do not play with death. I am terrified of it. The kind of terrified that lives in your bones. I would give up everything, my family's fortune, my pride, everything, just to live one more second. Once I had a small headache and I woke the entire house at 2 a.m., screaming like I was dying. My dad ran out in his underwear, my mom half-crying, half-furious. We rushed to the hospital... only for the doctor to say, "She's dehydrated. Drink water." My mom hissed, "Maybe you died early in your past life, that's why you're like this." My dad didn't speak to me for a whole month. A whole month of silence at the dinner table. And you know what? I don't regret it. I would rather be the crazy girl who caused a scene than the quiet girl in a coffin. "Dear students," the megaphone crackled, too calm, too rehearsed. "There seems to be a problem in the chemistry lab, but rest assured it has been taken care of." Lies. My gut screamed lies. The chemistry lab was just three classes away. Why would the alarm go off if everything was fine? My hands were shaking. I had no class, nothing to lose. I needed to see with my own eyes. I needed to know if this was the kind of thing that kills people, so I could run first. I'm not ready to die. I'm not ready. The lab door was slightly open. A thin trail of white smoke curled out like a finger beckoning me. Mr. David was inside, his back to me. His lab coat was too still. He wasn't moving. He wasn't putting out a fire. He was just... standing. "Mr. David?" My voice came out as a whisper. Then he turned around. And I saw his face. It wasn't burned. It wasn't scared.