A Tale of: Ravens, Scythes and Cherry blossoms

Chapter 4: Why everyone thinks I killed my maths teacher

I look up from the worksheet I'm going through, and see Miss Decimal's aura shift. It's got this weird blue outline, and that fills me with a strange sense of foreboding. She catches me staring, and narrows her eyes. I get back to question 8, sharpish.

My chest tightens suddenly, a strange adrenaline in my mind. It's kind of like someone has held my head under cold water. It's a mix of energy and instinct that flows through me way to eagerly to be a good sign. I peer back at my maths teacher, wondering what's happening.

Then I work it out, the blue outline is closing in on the rest of her aura, shrinking it. Miss Decimal clicks her teeth, pushing her half-moon glasses down her nose. I loom back, furrowing my brow, as it comes to me. I only see that blue glow when something very specific is about to happen.

I stand up, clearing my throat, as I push back the nerves to a practiced speech. It doesn't make the class's uneasy, amused looks any easier to address though. I really hope I'm right, otherwise I will be in so much trouble. But I've checked for sure now, none of them have the blue glow, just slowly strobing clouds, like a cat flicking it's tail.

"Sit down Hana." Miss Decimal snaps, glaring at me. I'm always awed at how the universe lines up people with the perfect surnames to the perfect jobs, ironically or not.

"Everyone, please go outside, quickly and quietly. Get your stuff, and wait in the corridor." I put my bag over my shoulder, as the class whispers, but some of them start to pack away, hoping they miss some class for whatever I'm about to do.

I hold the door, calming the patter of panic in their voices as they look at each other. I look at Layla, who nervously looks back at me. I nod subtly, and she sighs, packing up, and walking to stand next to me. Layla's social life is really going to help here.

"Both of you, sanctions, sit down!" Miss Decimal rises up, bristling.

Now half the class gets up, and stands in the corridor, more and more joining them. Layla's hand finds mine, and squeezes it nervously. I can feel her heartbeat, and see the clouds around her are grey, with coils of acid green through. Worry.

"Class! Now! CLASS! Sit back down this second!" Miss Decimal stands in front of me, almost spitting into my glasses. The blue is closing in now, almost fully eclipsing the rest of her aura.

I squeeze back on Layla's hand, as the last few members of the class file out, and watch nervously, some of them amused, over my shoulder. One of them pulls out their phone to start recording and live streaming. I'm not sure whether to feel touched or creeped out.

"Please sit down Miss." I say soothingly. It does not go well.

"What do you mean." Her eyes widen, and as much as I dislike her, I can only feel sorrow for what's about to happen.

"Please sit down." I tell her again.

"No." She shakes her head, looking desperately back at the posters of formulae, like they hold the key to immortality.

That glow means death is near. No-one else has a glow. They will not die, and whatever happens, it is best they don't see, and are as far away as possible. I'm death's blood relative, I'm immune to whatever could happen, and I take it upon myself to safeguard everyone until mum gets here. Miss Decimal was a good teacher, and a nice woman outside of the classroom, I'm sure. I just never experienced that outside my classroom.

The last person walks past me, and I turn to look solemnly at Miss Decimal. "Use your time to call your family. You're luckier than most." I'm not quite sure what to say. "Here." I fish through my bag, and find a stack of dog-eared pamphlets about passing on. I leave one on the desk, and shut the door. Mum will know where to go.

I look up to see a corridor full of hushed, afraid faces. "Go down the corridor silently. You are going to wait in the assembly hall. Ethan, and Thomas, go down to the office, and tell them where the others will be, and what is going to happen."

I'm pretty sure they have no idea, but it's better than leaving and letting this lot somehow mess it up, or do something stupid, like ask for my mum's autograph. Not saying anything about the ones she's signed before, or the one on my cork board on my wall at home. One of the benefits of being the kid of a celebrity. A very morbid, serious one. But still.

I always feel so jumpy waiting in an empty hallway, as the door flaps on it's hinges as the last person files out. It's like I'm loitering somewhere I'm not supposed to be, but i think that's just the eager-to-please, goody-two-shoes part of me.

I hear footsteps, on their own, and the school is suddenly very quiet. Hushed respect for the person who's about to come through that door. Leaving death alone with her daughter... In about ten seconds.