The walls were steel and cold, enclosing me into the small and pact spaces of the corridors. I have never been afraid of small spaces, but right now, I was feeling claustrophobic. I felt as if I was a prisoner, taking her last walk to the courtyard.
My Escort's pace was quick and never faltered. Her steel façade never breaking, her boots clicking on the ground in time to my heart. It seemed loud in my ears, and even though every teacher I passed had their backs to me, I felt they heard my heart's frantic beating, as they all turned on my passing.
Their stares were like hot coals in my back. I felt the pain behind the stares, not the heat, and this made me shiver. The girls gasped and the hall went silent as they saw who it was I was following. The new girls didn't know, they haven't seen Mrs Edgings before. The followed me with their eyes. I froze.
Mrs Edgings didn't even say a word. No one did. I was frozen to the spot with god knows how many eyes on me. Yet no one said anything. No teacher yelled at me to keep moving, no student taunted me for being below the average in Mcceath standards. Nothing.
You didn't have to be a Genius to know that something was wrong.
“Bye, Ocyne.” Someone whispered, and suddenly the hallway was filled with a the chorus of goodbyes, growing louder and louder, girls trying to there farewells heard over everyone else. The doors opened and in from the classrooms came more girls, all joining in.
“Ocyne,” Mrs Edging whispered, and even though it was barely audible all voices hushed. “It's time to go.”
Nothing the girls did helped my racing heart. Why was everyone saying goodbye? Did they know something I didn't? My feet wouldn't move.
It was like the message only registered into my legs and everything else was numb. They moved on while my heart, my soul, everything I was, was left in the hallway, along with the other girls who was staring at our retreating figures.
As we got to the headteachers office my escort walked in, and the door flopped shut behind her. I stared at the door for a second. Did I want to go into that room? Like last night, how I had the need to call my parents, I felt I couldn't go in that room. If I went into that room my world would change. I couldn't deal with that. Could I?
Soon as the worries came, they were gone. My reason overpowered my imagination for the first time in my life. It suppressed it, stopping me from thinking of the worst possible reason the school's law Counsellor was beckoning me to the headteachers room.
Oh, god, did I mention something in my stories I shouldn't have? Was I getting sued?
I shook my head, unable to clear my thoughts but realising I had stood staring at that door for too long.
I walked into the office and saw my headteacher, Mrs Hearst (Or as we were allowed to call her-Catherine) with tears in her eyes. My heart flipped uncomfortably. I felt this was a 'sit down' moment, and stopped myself for comforting Catherine, instead, I moved the blank paper onto the coffee table and sat down on the sofa, waiting for someone to speak.
"Oh, Sea! It's terrible!" Wailed Catherine, using my nickname as she sobbed. She knelt down beside the sofa, and leaned over the side to hold my hand.
"What, Catherine is trying to say-" I looked up, I hadn't even realised Mack was standing, waiting in the corner for a chance to speak.
"It's your parents." Catherine carried on. I found it amusing, I always said Catherine and Mack would make a good couple, and here they were, finishing each others-
YOU ARE READING
Don't Tell Him He's In Love With A GeniusTeen Fiction
Ocyne Liyla is one of the world's favourite authors. Her life is a secret, unknown to even her most enthusiastic fans. Why is this? Because Ocyne Liyla, named top ten authors in literature, is 15 years old. Attending a school for the intellectually...