Hello! So as promised here is chapter two. This one kinda starts into more details. Hope you like it! Once again I will post the next chapter next week.
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Finally I heard the satisfying click of the lock as it opened after about ten failed attempts. I opened the door shoved in my books, slung my dark pink, leather jacket over my shoulder and grabbed my nondescript, black lunch bag.
I purposefully wandered around the school for a bit and pondered how I always seemed to find the same hallways. My meandering eventually brought me to the lunchroom; my table (empty as always) clean and waiting.
I could smell, as I walked by, the lunch lady's latest effort to cook (if you could even call what she does cooking) something edible.
Despite the slop being less "made in house" and more "made in outhouse" the same people lined up everyday to fill their platters and complained afterwards about quality. That's why I brought a lunch. I couldn't remember ever buying, and for that I was grateful.
I plopped down on the cold seat and dumped out the contents of my bag. A turkey sandwich, peach juice, a banana and yogurt, without a spoon. Damn.
I picked up shoes squeaking as they approached and passed then a quiet thump across from me.
"You alright?" I looked up to a familiar man in a brown suit.
"Yeah, my mom just forgot to put in a spoon." I replied to the teacher, waving my yogurt at him.
"Ah, fork it all! All I can offer is a spork." He passed me the pronged spoon with a smirk as though celebrating his cleverness.
"How very knife of you. It truly bowled me over. I will try to give it back to you spoon." I smirked back.
"Heh, anyways, I was meaning to ask you: how did you answer those questions?" He asked, now serious. It was as though he could flip a switch from fun to business.
"I don't know," I answered truthfully, taking a bite of the sandwich.
"Okay... because I don't even know how I came up with them let alone knew the sum myself."
I felt a spark of hope. Perhaps, just perhaps he was like me, maybe he wasn't quite sure of his identity either. I always felt that there was something more about me that was hidden. Something that I was missing.
"Alright, you are going to think I'm mad, but, sometimes I'm not even sure who I am. I know my name and my story but the fact that it's so clear troubles me. It just doesn't fit. OK. Tell me I'm crazy now."
"No."
"See- wait what?" I sat up straight and put down my food.
"I don't think you're crazy... Because I feel the same way. And I think it has something to do with this school."
The lunch bell then rang and the principal started to shoo everyone out to class. I was pulled up and pushed into line with everyone else, swept away by the crowds of students. I tried to look back at the mysterious teacher but it was futile. Instead I was forced to only wonder what he meant.
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