Miss, Do I Know You?

35 - Wednesday, March 10

Perpetually out of step with the clock, I had the misfortune of living my life a few minutes, or an hour, too late that day. I was late for almost everything. Martha had caught a cold, leaving me out of bed and at work before the crack of dawn. I was struggling to keep my eyes open during the lessons. Lunch came and went in a blur, one where I didn't even remember tasting my food.

The day had greeted me with a muted pastiness. I was tired. Not the type of fatigue that comes from a late night out or a bout of insomnia, but the deep-seated weariness that accumulates over a span of multiple suns and moons.

Perhaps it was the ceaseless thoughts, or the shadowy doubts that prowled my waking and resting hours. The confusion, the uncertainty. Whatever it was, it seemed to have cast its net like a spider, binding me in its invisible fibers, wearing me down to the bone, and dragging me down further by the second. My head was a paradox in itself—floating, as if buoyant with helium on one end, and laden with the weight of lead on the other.

Consciousness in that instant felt like a chore. Every muscle ached to stir, to shake off the drowsiness. Only the ongoing quiz kept me rooted to my seat. But eventually, I couldn't resist surrender any longer and rested my head on the desk, allowing my eyelids to close and devour the darkness.

My dream was dense and foggy, incomprehensible landscapes and conversations. And then, a sensation of plummeting—endless, unhindered descent, until an abrupt halt jerked me to awareness. I found myself in an empty classroom, silent if not for voices on the other side of the windowpanes.

I was on the verge of slipping out when Alex entered, papers nestled under one arm and a cup clasped in the other. "Sleeping Beauty finally stirs," she remarked with a barely-there smile. "I was starting to think I was gonna have to kiss you awake."

"Shit," I whispered, passing her the paper I had fallen asleep on. My eyes kept darting to the clock, trying to focus. "I'm sorry."

"Only you would leave a drool stamp," she muttered while setting the cup on my desk. "Relax. I spoke to Rogers. You're off the hook for PE."

Exhaling softly, I let a sliver of my escalating unease escape. My gaze was drawn to the warmth of coffee below, but it was the warmth of Alex that I really sought, especially right then. Merely to sense her nearby—a need that had grown increasingly pronounced lately. The ambiguity between us was torturous at times, yet I lingered entwined in hope.

With a furrowed brow, she eased into her chair. "You're starting to worry me, Kay. Mendez told me you slept all through his class."

"I'm fine," I mumbled dismissively. "Just one of those days."

Her eyes flitted over my paper, and her expression grew even graver. "And you didn't even finish it..."

"You're well aware that I know it all already."

My words were met only with a frosty stare. "You'll retake this next week. But what's going on?"

"I'm sorry, okay? It's been difficult to focus on school lately."

"Maybe we shouldn't have stayed up so late last night." Alex lowered herself into the chair, dragging her fingers along her face. "Am I a distraction?"

I offered a rueful smile, sucking some air through my teeth. "You are quite hot in your teacher mode. Especially when they're misbehaving, and you have to yell—"

"Mikayla, don't talk to me like that. I'm serious," she interjected. "Do you think I'm a distraction?"

"Not the government name," I said with a slight smirk, despite the peculiar tension weaving through the space between us. "There's no one here. And with you looking like that, can you really fault me for being a little distracted?"