Post by Camila Reyes on Sept 2, 2014 23:55:39 GMT -5
A wet ‘slap’ sounded through the empty classroom. Sapphire orbs seemed to bore into an ugly, green slab mounted on the wall. The only other sound in the room besides the slow ticking of the analog clock was the faint sound of music coming from the headphones of a young woman, who was slapping a dirtied yellow sponge against the green surface. There was a scowl pulling at the corners of her fair lips; of course she had been put on board-cleaning duty. She had been snapping at the teacher and her fellow students in the middle of class. Of course, this was after she had been awoken from the naps she had to take during the day because of her horrid visions at night. She had been getting more sleep since the battle, which was good, but she needed a good dose of alcohol to help her get rid of the spots of crimson and the screaming voices that invaded her dreams. The very thought made her shiver and change the song quickly; the one she had been listening to was not matching her mood at all. After a few more songs, she settled on one in particular, which she could relate to. She chuckled dryly to herself, continuing her task while softly singing the words to herself.
“‘Look who’s digging their own grave’, that is what they all say. ‘You’ll drink yourself to death.’ ‘Look who makes their own bed, lies right down it and what will you have left? Out on the front door step, drinking from a paper cup, you won’t remember this…’”
After a few moments of working, the young woman placed the sponge back in the bucket, avoiding the gray droplets that sprung up from the plastic basin. She wrinkled her nose a little bit, looking up at the board. She let out a loud, exasperated sigh; of course, the top of the board was the dirtiest and that was the part that she could not reach. The brunette glanced around, looking for something to use as a stool of some sort. The only chair without a desk attached had wheels, and there was no way she was going to break her neck cleaning the board. So, the young woman dragged a desk in front of the board and climbed on the flat surface of the desk. She wiped the chalk residue off and hopped off, yelping when she hit the floor. She let out a few curses under her breath and pushed herself up from the floor. She struggled to push the desk back to where she had retrieved it from. She wiped the back of her arm across her forehead, trying to mop up the sweat that had gathered there. She was just glad she had decided to put her frizzy, brown hair in a ponytail. It’s hot as hell, she thought, striding over to the desk where she typically sat for class. She swiped up her water bottle and chugged the rest of it, letting out an unladylike burp afterward and tossing it into the trashcan from where she stood. She frowned when she missed and stalked over to throw it away.
The young woman heaved a sigh, placing her chin in her cupped hand. If she had not been such an idiot, she would not have been saddled with this stupid job. She was grateful, though, that it was only one day of cleaning chalkboards. She looked at her hands, which were covered with white powder, and shook her head. She was about to walk over to the bucket when she heard footsteps behind her. Immediately, she tensed, whipping around to see her assailant. She quickly adopted a defensive stance, her knuckles blanching as she clenched her fists. The wild look in her dilating pupils made it clear that she was both afraid and ready to fight. The trembling of her body, though, was an indication that adrenaline was pumping, but she wavered to do anything with it. After her initial reaction of apprehension, fear, and readiness to fight, the young woman seemed to compose herself, letting out a soft breath. She took a good look at the person who had stumbled upon her cleaning the classroom and sighed softly, scratching the back of her neck. After a moment of confusion, her eyes snapped back up and her eyelashes fluttered as she spoke.
“Chandler, don’t do that! There’s been a lot of bad changes around here. We’re a lot more jumpy than we-”
The young woman’s head and eyes shot up again, trying to properly register what she was seeing. She narrowed her sapphire eyes and stepped toward the young man who looked an awful lot like someone she once knew. There was one discrepancy, though; he was wearing a prefect badge. Chandler would not be caught dead associating with the prefects. Well, at least, the Chandler she knew. It was possible, though, that this was a different person entirely. After all, she had nearly mistaken that poor Galloway kid for Deven, so who was to say that she was not going to make the same mistake. She huffed, scratching her cheek a little and walking closer to the new person. The least she could do was introduce herself, even if it would feel uncomfortable because the person resembled one of her fallen comrades.
“Ah, I’m sorry for all of that prattle earlier. You just… look like someone I once knew. Sorry about that. My name is Camila. Camila Reyes actually. What’s yours?”
