History Class
1174 Words
Renee – POV
History class was crawling by until Mr. Smith said something that snapped me straight out of my daydream.
“We’re beginning our Ancient Egypt unit,” he announced, practically bouncing with enthusiasm. “Perfect timing, since our field trip to the Velorian Antiquities Exhibit is next week.”
He held up a small wrapped object and gestured to a glowing slide behind him. “Your project: choose an artifact on display at the exhibit, research its origin, create a replica, and present it to the class.”
My spine went rigid.
Ancient Egypt.
Of course.
The banquet hall. The woman in the mirror. The name Neferet still echoed in my mind like a bell I couldn’t unring—distant, yet disturbingly familiar.
“Open your textbooks to page seventy-seven,” Mr. Smith continued.
I flipped mine open—and froze.
At the top of the chapter was a photograph. A statue. Female. Regal. Crowned.
Her.
The exact same crown I’d seen in the mirror. My breath hitched.
And then the statue moved.
The stone face melted into flesh. Her smile returned—soft, knowing. She looked straight at me.
I blinked, and just like that, it was stone again.
A chill raced down my spine.
Was I going insane?
Mr. Smith strolled back to the center of the room. “This,” he said, “is Hathor. Goddess of love, music, fertility, women... and dreams.”
Dreams.
His eyes landed on mine—and lingered. Just a second too long.
I quickly looked away as he began writing a list of other deities on the board: Ra, Anubis, Osiris, Isis, Maat, Sekhmet...
I barely registered the names as he brought out a woven basket filled with folded slips.
“To avoid fifty of you doing Anubis, we’re assigning gods at random,” he said, holding the basket toward the front row.
When he reached my desk, his gaze flickered over me again. Calm. Unsettling.
I hesitated. Then pulled a slip.
Hathor.
Of course.
He offered the tiniest smile. Then moved on.
Beside me, Annavi unfolded her slip and grinned. “Selkhet,” she whispered. Jacob held up his with a lopsided smirk. “Maat.”
No duplicates. No reshuffling.
Every pick seemed perfectly tailored. Like someone—or something—had planned it that way.
After the bell rang, Jacob and Annavi said they wanted to go to the library. Study session, technically. But I knew better. If they even cracked open a book, I’d be shocked. They walked me to my locker first. We approached my locker. I was lost in thought, still stuck on the statue’s face when a voice startled me.
“Hey. Renee, right?”
I turned. Idris stood leaning casually against the locker beside mine, as if he’d always belonged there. His eyes—those molten amber eyes—met mine with quiet confidence. My heart decided to drum double-time.
“Yeah,” I said, managing not to sound breathless.
“I never got to thank you earlier,” I added. For catching me. I really appreciate it.”
He shrugged, casual, cool. “Anytime. Just wanted to check on you. See how you’re feeling.”
“I’m good,” I said, offering a small smile. “I’ve had worse.”
He chuckled, low and warm. “Glad to hear it.”
Then he turned, tossing a smirk over his shoulder.
“I’ll see you in class... princess.”
I blinked.
Princess.
Why did that word make my stomach do somersaults?
Before I could even think about unpacking that, trouble arrived in the form of too-white teeth and over-bleached curls.
Evelyn.
She strolled up like she owned the hallway, smirk already locked and loaded.
“Another guy lining up to hit it and quit it, Renee?” she sneered, arms crossed.
I clenched my jaw. I wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of a reaction.
But I didn’t have to.
“Jealous no one even wants you for a one-night stand?” Annavi said flatly, appearing at my side like an avenging angel.
Jacob loomed behind her, arms crossed and gazed at her with nothing but disgust.
Evelyn huffed and flipped her hair. “Whatever. See you losers around.”
She disappeared in a trail of too-strong perfume.
My jaw stayed clenched.
I hated it when people brought him up.
Axel.
I’d been younger. A sophomore. The first time I’d ever felt seen.
Dad had just left. I was unraveling.
Axel was a senior, smooth and sweet. Said all the right things. Made me feel like I mattered. Like I was beautiful, and safe.
When we slept together, he held me after. Asked if I was okay. Drove me home. Called me his girl.
Monday came—and I was a joke.
Nick, his jerk of a friend—the one I’d turned down—spread it around like wildfire. Said Axel called me “something to do before graduation.”
Axel swore it wasn’t true. Cried. Begged. But trust is like a vase. Even when you glue the pieces, the cracks remain.
I walked away.
The next day, Axel beat the living hell out of Nick.
He got suspended from the basketball team. Jacob told the coach the truth. Nick got dropped. Axel got a warning. And school moved on.
But I didn’t.
Axel kept calling. Kept showing up. I blocked him. Shut the door. Built walls.
Let them whisper.
Let them judge.
Let them call me cold.
Because I made a promise to myself that day:
The next person I gave my heart to… would have to earn it.
Idris – POV
I’d just rounded the corner when I heard that blonde girl tearing into Renee. Her voice was full of venom, polished with insecurity.
I was about to step in when that tall friend of hers—Annavi—torched her in one sentence. Respect.
I kept walking, slipping into World History as the last few students shuffled to their seats. The board up front listed names—Egyptian deities, student names beneath them.
I scanned the list.
Renee: Hathor.
Of course.
Something about it sent a pulse down my spine. Like puzzle pieces clicking into place.
Mr. Smith started going over the Velorian Exhibit project again. Artifact selection. Replica building. Storytelling. I liked the idea—hands-on, creative.
He pulled out a basket of folded slips.
Same rule. No repeats.
When he got to me, he gave the basket a shake, watching me too closely.
Okay, that was weird.
I drew my slip and unfolded it.
Osiris.
The god of the afterlife.
Mr. Smith smiled. Not like it was random. Like it had been planned.
Beside me, Tyrese pulled Anubis. “Yes! Jackal king, let’s go.”
I chuckled, but my eyes returned to one name.
Renee—Hathor.
I knew, with a certainty that I couldn’t explain, that none of this was chance.
Not the dreams. Not the catch.
Not her.
Not me.
Not this.
None of it was coincidence.
- Writer
