The Midnight Series: Darkness Comes to Light

13. Class

As we walked and talked, I noticed that people were staring at me. Some people had serious stares and some were whispering to each other while looking at me, and then there were the people who had stunned expressions on their faces. I just kept walking and looking down, trying to ignore them. One girl, who looked like she was stuck-up and full of herself, stopped and asked me my name. In all honesty, she was someone I would not be friends with.

“Emma Patton,” I answered, confused as to why she asked me that. She looked back at me with a surprised look on her face. The second question she asked me was ‘what kind of car I have’. The answer to her question was clearly none of her business, but to humor her curiosity, I answered her question.

“A 911 Porsche,” I told her. The girl now had her mouth gaped open in shock. I swear a fly could have flown in her mouth and made her choke. Kali looped her arm in my right arm and pulled me along towards the main office.

“What was that about?” I mumbled out loud to myself, but I knew Kali heard me.

“Don’t worry, it’s nothing too serious. Your father just told his friends at the firehouse that you were coming to stay with him. Eventually, the news spread across the whole town. He was just super excited,” Kali reassured me.

“Oh!” I responded. I did not know whether to be worried that I was going to the top of the conversation. I knew flying under the radar was not going to work here since it was a small town.

We made it to the door of the office. I opened the door and walked inside. There was a lady standing there helping someone, so Kali and I stood to the left of the door next to a bulletin board with random school information on the board. I stood next to the door, while Kali was standing beside the bulletin board. There were a few club flyers there: art, chess, math and science, music, band, dance, and so many more.

“What time does school start?” I asked in a low voice, looking away from the board and at Kali.

“Not till nine,” she answered.

I looked at the clock that hung on the wall straight ahead of where we were standing. The clock read eight forty. I looked towards the front of the counter where I was waiting for the office secretary to help me. The office secretary was helping a boy. The boy was of Mexican descent, and his hair was jet black. When he looked back at Kali and I, I could see his eyes were ocean blue and he had a distinctive small scar on his face above his left eye. He was wearing a black t-shirt with a skull on the front and a pair of distressed dark blue jeans with a pair of all-black converse. He looked like he was a troubled teen, a bully who spent most of his time teasing and beating up people just for his pure enjoyment. The boy turned back around, facing the counter and the office lady.

I leaned towards Kali and asked about him.

“Who’s that?” I whispered, nodding my head in the direction of where the boy was standing at the counter.

“That’s someone you want to stay away from,” she said, her voice sending serious warning alarms off in my head as well as the serious-stern look she gave me.

I nodded sternly, telling her that I understood that he was in trouble. The only problem is I see the bad and good in all people. My main problem was wanting to help them no matter what.

As the boy walked past us and out the door, he scowled at me. I did not look directly at him. The last thing I needed was to be picked on and berated at the new school. He exited the office aggressively, pushing the door open and slamming it closed behind him. I slightly jumped as the door slammed shut. I know that Kali saw me jump and the look of horror on my face, but I ignored her worried expression. I took a deep breath, trying to settle my nerves. I slowly stepped forward to the front desk, looking at the office secretary.

“How may I help you?” she asked, politely, with a smile.

“Hi! I’m..I’m Emma Patton,” I said, looking at the lady and then the countertop and back to the lady. The lady gave me a smile before speaking.

“Oh! Yes. Mr. Patton said you were coming today,” she responded, still smiling. The lady turned and went over to grab a piece of paper out of a basket that was on her desk. She came back and handed me the paper. The piece of paper had my schedule on it. She then gave me a blue paper and explained that I needed to have each teacher sign the slip. At the end of the school day, I had to come back and turn the slip in.

I thanked the lady and then turned to walk towards the door. Kali stepped out the door, holding it open for me. The office door closed and we both departed in different directions to our first period class.

I was walking towards my English class, when I bumped into a boy. This boy wasn’t like the person I saw in the office, he seemed nice. He was kind of awkward, he seemed nervous to speak to me, even though I apologized for bumping into him.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I should have been looking where I was walking. I’m Ryan Peters, what’s your name?” he asked, sticking out his hand for me to shake.

“Hi, I am Emma Patton,” I said, shaking his hand.

“What class are you looking for?” he asked, looking at my schedule, then back to me.

“English with Cayton,” I told him, looking at my schedule.

“I am in the same class, you can follow me,” he offered.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, softly.

I smiled and followed behind him towards our English class. We went down this long hall, turned left and the room was right there.

I was glad I found someone like him to show me where my first class was. It was pure coincidence that out of all the students in the hall to bump into, he was in the same class as me. I was glad that I had someone in the class and I knew their name. I was a little weerie about going to my junior and senior year alone without having one of my brothers with me. I can do this. I am branching out on my own.

Ryan and I walked into the room. Ryan went and took a seat at an empty desk in the end row that was next to the windows. I walked over to the teachers' desk and handed the blue slip that I needed to signed by the teacher. He looked at the blue slip, grabbed a pen out of the top desk drawer and signed the slip. Then he handed the slip back to me.

“It is nice to meet you, Emma. You can take a seat anywhere,” he told me, looking up at me. I turned and made my way to the last seat in the back row next to the window. I sat down and looked at Mister Cayton. He was African-American and was five foot ten. He looked as if he was an honest man and a decent teacher. He wore a long sleeved dark purple dress shirt with a light gray diagonal striped tie, and light gray slacks and expensive black leather dress shoes. He seemed like the type of teacher who was stern and expected his students to be respectful to him and others around them. He seemed to give off a vibe that made it seem like he was reasonably fair when it came down to grading.

Students started filling the seats and talking with each other. I pulled my pencil and a notebook out of my backpack and then set it on the ground under my chair. I sat there and waited for the bell for class to start. I sat at the desk, leaning against the back of the chair and my legs stretched in front of the desk with my ankles crossed. I looked around the classroom at all the students that were starting to settle in the empty desks. Looking straight ahead at the front of the classroom, I noticed two things that were written on the board. The first thing was the teacher’s name in fine printed letters, and it said, Mr. Cayton. On the other side of the board, the words of a poem were written along with the title on the board:

I Stepped From Plank to Plank

I stepped from plank to plank

So slowly and cautiously;

The stars about my head I felt,

About my feet the sea.

I knew not but the next

Would be my finally inch,--

This gave me that precarious gait

Some call experience.

I remember that poem very distinctly when I had to do research for poems for the English class I took in my Freshmen year. The overall meaning behind this particular poem was to tell the reader that it is better to be aware that their lives will end one day than for them not to think that they have a sense of eternal life. I liked learning about the different poems and all the different writing styles.

The bell for class to start was going to ring at any second. Mister Cayton stood up from his desk right as the bell was ringing and walked over to the door to close it. He turned to face everyone and directed the class to settle down and to take their seats. Everyone sat down, filling in all the empty desks, and the room was filled with utter silence. Before Mr. Cayton began with what he was going to talk about. He hoped everyone had a great summer, and then went into explaining the class expectations. I was spot on what kind of teacher he is, because he wanted his main rule in the classroom was to be respectful to him and others. After he was done with his little spiel, he went straight into what was written on the board behind him. He read the title and then read the whole poem that he wrote on the board. Mr. Cayton then glanced at each student and stopped, locking eyes with me as he finished the last line of the poem.

“Now can anyone tell me who this poem was written by?” he asked, looking around hoping someone in the class would voluntarily respond.

As I took a quick glance around, seeing no one knew the answer, I tried to avoid being called on by looking down at the desk.

“Emma Patton,” he called, looking at me.

I could see all the students beside me and in front of me turning their heads to look at me. I mentally cursed my existence. Wishing I was able to be invisible or to shrink and melt into the floor six feet under. I ignored all the other students gawking and looked straight ahead past everyone making eye contact with Mr. Cayton. I could feel my palms sweating and my cheeks red from embarrassment.

“Emily Dickinson,” I replied, and then looked down at my notebook that was lying on the desktop.

“That’s correct,” he said, pausing briefly before asking another question. “Does anyone know what Emily Dickenson wanted the reader to understand in this poem?”

“Anybody?” Mr. Cayton asked, looking around the room. “Charles A.?”

“I don’t know,” Charles said.

“Annabelle?” Mr. Cayton called.

Annabelle just shrugged.

I did not want to put my opinion out there, but I decided if no one was going to give an answer, I might as well tell him the answer. Without second guessing myself, I raised my hand, high enough so Mr. Cayton could see it from the front of the classroom. He pointed at me to answer.

“Umm..she wanted the reader to be aware that everyone’s life ends in death, that no one has immortality,” I told him, simply.

“That is right,” he said, a bit astonished. It was evident in his face that he did not expect me to know the answer.

For the next forty-five minutes of class, Mister Cayton had us all write a paragraph about what the top two things we like doing for hobbies and how we could relate our hobbies could possibly help us in English class. I wrote about how I like drawing and painting, and about how I like to read poems and books with nonfiction and fiction genres. I compared drawing to English by being able to draw covers for the quotes, poems, and stories we learn about. For the second hobby of reading, I wrote about reading a variety of topics and how to gain more knowledge and a better understanding of what I will learn and how to decipher what I am learning. I finished just as the bell started to ring, for the passing period to get to our next class. As we were dismissed, we all turned our papers in on Mister Cayton’s desk and then we were all allowed to leave for our next class. We all left, heading in all different directions towards our second period class.

My second period class was art. I walked in and handed my slip to the teacher, Miss Morse. She signed it and handed it back, telling me she was delighted to meet me and that I could take any seat I liked. I took the slip, giving her a shy smile. I looked around the room and found the perfect place to sit in the back of the classroom. The seat was under a ceiling light and also provided perfect natural sunlight from the windows. I sat down at a table and set my backpack on the floor.

Miss Morse was Caucasian and looked to be in her late twenties. She was five foot nine and a very skinny woman with long blonde hair that reached the middle of her back. She wore loose comfortable clothing, a pair of vibrant hipster-designed patterned leggings with a baggy denim buttoned-down collared shirt.

As soon as the bell rang, Miss Morse started class. She did not have to tell any of the students to find seats, because everyone sat down immediately and all conversation was silenced as soon as the bell rang. Miss Morse handed all of us one blank sheet of printer paper and a pencil. She told us we had forty minutes to draw the person closest to us. She set a timer and told us that we could begin.

I was a really good drawer, so the assignment she had us doing was simple to me. The closest person to me was a girl. She was pretty, but not the type of person I would personally be friends with. She had her hair down, her hair was long and loosely curled at the ends, it fell onto her shoulders. She was wearing makeup, too much makeup for my liking, but the black smokey eyeshadow definitely made her gray-blue eyes stand out. I started the drawing with the outline of the girl’s face, and then moved to lightly sketching her eyes, nose, and mouth. The last detail I did was her hair. I added the finished touching by shading where the shadow areas needed to go. When I was satisfied with the shading, I set my sketch in the corner of the table. I finished before anyone else, so I laid my head down on the table.

Miss Morse was walking around the room, quickly glancing at everyone’s progress. She walked by my table and stopped to look at my drawing, picking it up off the table.

“Is this yours?” Ms. Morse asked me.

I sat up, nodding my head in response.

“What’s your name again?” she asked.

“Emma..Emma Patton,” I replied, softly.

Everyone stopped where they were at in their drawing to look at me. All eyes were on me. Could this day get any more embarrassing? I thought. The fact that a great majority of the entire town of Fort Bragg’s population, ranging from all adults to young children, know about my arrival and existence all because I am Dan Patton’s daughter and all the exciting facts that he told a couple of people now have made me the new popular topic of the week.

Miss Morse looked over the drawing. She was holding the drawing, admiring the detail, when she glanced at me. I hid my face as all the staring eyes were making me feel uncomfortable and embarrassed. It was clear by how I was looking at the folded hands under the table, and avoiding all contact with her and everyone else. My cheeks were definitely pink from embarrassment, because I could feel the flush in my cheeks.

“Get back to work,” Miss Morse said promptly, looking behind her at all the students who were gawking and whispering amongst themselves. She turned back around and continued to admire my drawing.

Everyone quickly went back to finishing their drawings. Miss Morse set my drawing back down on the table and continued to move around the room to check on the other students’ progress. I was trying to ignore the people who had finished and were now whispering to each other and taking turns looking at me.

I was happy it was lunch after third period, one more class to go. I was not really hungry, but I was looking forward to getting to know Kali.

I could not wait to get out of the classroom and away from all the whispering stares. To distract myself from the constant eyes that were drawn in my direction, I decided to draw in my sketchbook. I pulled my sketchbook and my designated drawing pencil pouch out of my backpack. I opened a new page in my sketchbook and just started to draw. I did not know who the person I was drawing was, but the boy resembled the boy that saved me when I got lost, one of the Lawson brothers. It was just a drawing to make time pass by faster. I had just finished drawing the facial features. The only thing I had to sketch was the hair and then add the shading. I stopped and looked at the drawing and the person was a teenage boy.

I looked up at the clock that hung above the classroom door and noticed that the bell for period three was going to ring in three minutes. I packed my pencil pouch and my sketchbook back into my backpack and waited for the bell to ring. Everyone had already cleaned up their things and they were still gossiping and sneaking looks in my direction. I’m going to go ballistic if they don’t stop staring at me. If they want to ask me something, why won’t they just spit it out already? It didn’t help that when I looked at them they would stop talking and look away. I finally got tired of the idiots whispering and gawking and got up from the chair. I pushed my chair in and slowly walked towards the door, just as the bell rang. I was the first one to leave because everyone was still gossiping about me.

I walked to my history class. I walked into the room and the teacher, Mister Salazar, was sitting at his desk. I walked over to his desk and handed my slip to him. He signed the paper and then told me I could sit anywhere.

Mister Salazar was Hispanic and was very muscular in stature. He looked to be in his late thirties and was around five and ten feet, almost six feet tall. He wore tan slacks and a solid black button-down dress shirt. He seemed like he was a semi-strict teacher. He already had a video on the screen about colonization. I liked the use of videos in the classroom, especially with history, because I was not good at understanding anything that pertained to history. I knew my rights and some of the laws as a U.S. citizen, but anything that was related to the B.C. or A.D. era, I was completely lost. I was not a history buff. I could barely keep track of current history, let alone the major events in history that happened long before I was born.

The bell rang and we all took our seats. Again, I took the desk in the back of the class next to the window. I was not looking forward to taking this class. Mister Salazar gave us a lecture on what to expect to learn and what we were going to do as possible assignments in the class. Honestly, I was not really listening. I just stared at the posters above the whiteboard, vaguely listening to what Mister Salazar was telling all of us.

I could not wait for lunch. I was looking forward to lunch, not that I was hungry though. I was also happy that I could get out of the classroom away from all the annoying eyes. Lunch meant I could see Kali and tell her about my classes so far. I was so relieved that she was someone that was not going to whisper and gossip about me. I needed to get some fresh air though with all my nerves. My whole body was on edge, my emotions running high with having to deal with the constant, annoying glances and whispering.

Mister Salazar talked for a good thirty-five minutes during the class period. He finally stopped talking about ten minutes before the bell was going to ring for lunch. Mister Salazar could talk for hours about history. I was pretty sure the class was never going to end.