CHAPTER 2 ; School
1134 Words
"Clara, breakfast is ready!" Anastasia's voice rang out from the kitchen, laced with the familiar urgency of her daily routine.
Already awake, Clara lay on her bed for a few extra seconds, staring blankly at the ceiling. A knot tightened in her chest—the remnants of the dream still haunted her. With a deep breath, she shook it off, sat up, and dragged herself downstairs.
"Good morning, Mom," she said, her voice soft and tired as she slid into her seat.
"Morning, dear," Anastasia replied briskly, planting a kiss on Clara's head before grabbing her bag. "I'm heading out early. There’s a lot to do today. Don't forget your chores. I made tea and eggs. Enjoy, sweetheart."
"Okay, Mom," Clara replied, forcing a small smile.
She waited until the door slammed shut before exhaling in relief. She glanced at the clock—8:20 AM. Perfect. The keys she had lifted earlier from her mom’s bag glinted in her pocket. After a quick breakfast, she attacked her chores with mechanical precision. The entire time, a plan brewed in her mind.
By 8:50 AM, she was out the door.
The street was quiet. She reached the meeting point in five minutes and waited with anxious anticipation. Her fingers drummed against her leg. Her eyes darted from side to side.
Then, a car pulled up.
"Oh, Claudia! Good morning, dear," Mister Martin said cheerfully, stepping out of the car with a welcoming smile.
Clara smiled back politely and slipped into the car. "Good morning, sir."
He shut the door and climbed in beside her. "How was your night?"
"It was okay, sir," she replied quietly, her hands folded tightly in her lap.
He nodded, then turned the ignition. "So, any school in mind?"
Clara paused, choosing her words carefully. "One about thirty minutes away from my house."
Martin raised an eyebrow, curious but didn’t press. He drove in silence, the soft hum of the engine filling the quiet.
Thirty-five minutes later, they arrived at a school nestled between trees and old fences.
"Green Field High... This one?" he asked, glancing at her.
"What’s the time, sir?"
He looked at his watch. "9:38 AM."
Clara nodded slowly. "Yes, sir. This is the one."
Martin studied her. "Why exactly thirty minutes away?"
She hesitated. "My trekking capacity."
It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the full truth either. It was all about timing—a gap wide enough to slip in and out without raising suspicion.
Martin looked skeptical but smiled. "Well, I can always drive you."
"Thank you, sir," Clara said gently, "but I’ll be fine."
---
Inside the principal’s office, Mister Martin explained her background. The principal leaned forward, hands clasped tightly.
"She’ll be on probation. If she proves herself, she stays. If not... we can't compromise our standards."
Clara stood quietly beside Martin, her heart pounding.
"Classes begin at nine, end at three. Welcome to Green Field High, Claudia Martins," the principal said, offering a firm handshake.
Martin bought her supplies and left her with the homeroom teacher, who led her into a classroom buzzing with morning chatter. As Clara stepped in, the noise faded. Dozens of eyes turned to her, scanning, judging.
"Class," the teacher called out, "this is our new student, Claudia. Make her feel welcome."
Some students smiled. Others scoffed.
"Back to math," Mrs. Andrew said, breaking the tension. "Introductions can wait."
Clara slipped into a seat near the back. As the teacher spoke, she listened intently, jotting down notes with focused precision. Her face remained unreadable, but inside, she was both excited and terrified.
---
During the break, she was nearly done with her assignment when a girl muttered nearby, "Claudia... what an ugly name."
Laughter rippled through the group. Clara glanced up, locking eyes with the speaker, then returned to her notebook.
"Not cool," a boy muttered under his breath.
He stepped over. "Hi, Claudia," he said warmly.
She looked up, eyes curious but guarded.
"Don't worry about them. That was Betty and her gang. I'm Eric."
She gave a small nod.
"You're quiet, huh?"
"What am I meant to say?" she asked sincerely.
Eric chuckled. "I guess nothing. But... if you ever need help, I’m here."
"Thanks, Eric," Clara said softly, standing to leave.
---
In the cafeteria, Clara was halfway through her sandwich when another insult came.
"Claudia! What an ugly name!"
The room erupted in laughter. Clara slowly looked up, expression unreadable.
"Prettier than your face," she replied coolly.
The room fell into stunned silence. One person snorted. Everyone froze.
"Who laughed?" Betty demanded.
Fingers pointed to a girl in the corner.
"Danielle? You dare mock me?"
Danielle raised her hands. "I didn’t laugh. I swear."
Betty’s glare was icy. "Meet me after class."
Danielle sighed, whispering, "I’m finished."
---
At dismissal, Clara noticed Danielle smiling strangely as she walked off. It wasn’t joy. It was... empty.
"Weird," Eric muttered as he accidentally bumped Clara’s bag. "Oops. Sorry."
She didn’t flinch.
"Why is everyone afraid of Betty?" she asked.
He lowered his voice. "People say she uses spells. You mess with her, weird things happen. You fail tests, say dumb things in class... even squeak like a mouse."
Clara said nothing.
"See you tomorrow, Clara," Eric said, slinging his bag over his shoulder.
---
Outside, Mister Martin was waiting.
"Hey! How was school?" he asked.
"Weird," Clara muttered, climbing in.
"Told you it would be," he said, chuckling.
They drove in silence. His eyes occasionally flicked to her.
"Remind me again... where exactly do you live? There aren’t any houses near where I dropped you."
Clara turned to him, her gaze distant. "Don’t worry. One day, you’ll know."
She opened the door, then paused. "Thank you, sir," she said quietly.
He smiled, watching her run off.
---
At home, Clara retrieved the key she’d set to fall after a delay. She changed clothes, ate quietly, and fell into bed, drained.
Anastasia came home late. As she leaned against the window, the key slipped into her bag unnoticed. She opened the door, checked on Clara, and headed to her room.
Clara didn’t stir all night. Not even once.
---
Meanwhile, at Danielle’s home...
"Hello, Danielle," her mother greeted, watching her daughter shuffle into the kitchen.
Danielle gave a strange giggle. She didn’t say a word. Just giggled and grabbed a slice of bread.
Her father looked up from his paper. "She seems... unusually happy."
Danielle kept chuckling, the same eerie smile frozen on her face.
She didn’t speak again. She didn’t explain. She just laughed until she fell asleep, still smiling.
Her mother stood in the hallway, staring at her bedroom door with growing unease. "What’s wrong with Danielle?"
Her father exhaled slowly, concern deepening on his face. "I don’t know," he said. "But something is definitely wrong."
- Writer
