The Girl Who doesn’t Speak
1122 Words
Lucian
“Out.”
The word lands like a gunshot across the classroom.
Every head turns toward me.
Again.
Professor Thistlewick stands beside the board, gripping a piece of marker like he’s imagining it’s my throat.
I only said what I think, as his question implies. Why start a question with ‘what do you think?' when you’re going to get offended by what I think?
“If you find my lecture so amusing, Lucian, perhaps you would like to continue it from the hallway.”
The class laughs nervously.
They always do.
Not because the joke is funny.
Because laughing at me is safer when a teacher starts it. Technically, that’s the only time they get to do so.
There was a time this used to unsettle me… make me want to turn every table in the room upside down… throw a tantrum… show the world I’m angry.
But now, it just makes me scoff.
I lean back in my chair.
Slowly.
“Already finished?” I ask lazily.
Professor Thistlewick’s face turns a shade darker than his tweed jacket.
“Now, Lucian.”
I sigh and stand.
The chair scrapes loudly against the floor as I push it back.
No one meets my eyes when I walk past their desks.
They never do.
The hallway outside the classroom is empty, as it should be, judging by the time when the door slams behind me.
I shove my hands into my pockets and start walking.
I’ve been thrown out of this class five times this week… and it’s just wednesday. Professor Thistlewick is one of the few teachers who don't make throwing me out of the class part of their roll call routine.
They don’t need me to cross their paths before they take action; they just need to eradicate the possibility.
They all pretend it’s discipline.
I think it’s fear. They are just scared of me… scared of what my family’s money can do. Like destroying the whole school with marbles.
Grandpa says it’s tradition. I think it’s a showoff.
I turn the corner toward the grand staircase, planning to disappear somewhere until the bell rings.
That’s when I see her.
At first, it’s just movement at the top of the stairs.
A girl.
I’ve never seen the face before, yet she looks strangely familiar.
Now, whose heiress is that?
Yeah, she’s got to be one.
This is a place where you find:
Every heir.
Every rich brat.
Every future politician.
She’s standing near the railing, looking around like she’s wandered into a museum.
“She must be new," I conclude.
Most new students look intimidated by Blackthorn, but she looks… annoyed.
And with the way she keeps hitting that handrail with her leg, I know it’s a matter of time before she kicks it off.
I’m just contemplating whether to warn her of the consequence of that little nonchalant action or just mind my business when it happens.
Her heel slips. Her body tilts forward. And suddenly she’s falling.
Shit!
Three floors of marble wait beneath her.
I don’t even think. My body just reacts. I take the stairs two at a time.
Her foot slides again.
She gasps… and I grab her waist.
The momentum nearly pulls both of us forward.
I yank her back against me. Her body collides with my chest.
For a moment she just stands there, breathing too fast while the world steadies around us.
That gives me the chance to look down at her… properly.
Damn!
She’s such a beauty.
Not the predictable, polished beauty Blackthorn girls spend hours manufacturing.
This is different.
Unexpected.
Her eyes widen slightly as she looks up at me, like she’s still trying to understand how she didn’t just die.
My hand is still around her waist.
I should let go.
I don’t.
Her skin is warm.
Soft.
She smells faintly like something sweet I can’t place.
Why does it feel like I’ve seen this face before?
The position is already becoming uncomfortable. If I stay another second, I might actually let go.
I pull her closer to balance and then release her waist slowly.
I lean closer, enough to see the faint freckles across her nose.
“Careful,” I say quietly.
Her breath catches.
“Some falls change your life forever.”
“Like the one that ended my basketball career.” I finish the statement in my head.
Then I walk away.
I make it halfway down the corridor before I hear footsteps behind me.
Is she following me now?
There’s no reason for her to do so. Maybe I’m just overthinking it.
To confirm, I turn the corner and stop suddenly.
Right on cue, she walks straight into my back.
Are you kidding me now? She’s actually following me.
I turn around.
She’s staring at me like she’s surprised to see me again.
“Why are you following me?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
There’s no response.
Come to think of it, she hasn’t said a word since saving her. Is she dumb?
“You don’t speak, do you?”
Again, no response.
“Do you know who I am?” I ask again.
She hesitates.
I get the answer to my question on her face.
A strange feeling settles in my chest. I step closer, closing the final gap between us… just to intimidate her.
That works.
She steps back suddenly, like she’s realised something.
Then I turn and walk away without looking back.
Something about her doesn’t sit right. Curiosity itches beneath my skin. I turn another corner then wait… until she passes by.
So I follow.
At a distance. She walks toward the administrative wing. Toward the principal’s office.
Indeed, she’s a new intake.
Two people are standing outside the principal office when she approaches.
The first I know clearly. Headmaster Bumblethorpe.
And a woman.
The girl runs toward them.
“Sera! Where did you go?” the woman asks.
Sera.
So that’s her name.
I lean against the corner wall, watching unseen. I have nothing to do after all.
Listening to their conversation, I confirm my prediction about her. She is truly a new intake. The first to hate it here aside from me.
It gives me a mixed feeling when she says she’ll stay. Disappointed and excited.
Then the woman shifts slightly, turning just enough for me to see her face.
My stomach drops.
Is that?
No.
That’s impossible.
I push away from the wall slowly.
But the closer I look, the more certain I become.
That’s mom!
Everything inside me snaps.
I turn away immediately, trying to contain my anger. Just then, I hear Sera say the most disgusting word I have ever known.
“Mom!”
- Writer
