*TW: self-harm*
The door to the art room was closed.
"Okay, I'll walk in first." I whisper to Olly.
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah, if he gets pissed I'll just tell him it's your fault." I giggle.
He just rolls his eyes. I take a step forward and open the door to the conference room quietly. We sneak inside and begin to walk to an empty table at the corner of the room. No one seemed to notice us. We were almost there, when a loud voice boomed.
"Excuse me?" a man says behind us. I turn around slowly, just awaiting for the moment when I get punished.
"Yes?" Olly speaks slowly.
"You are late! On the first day! Wait...both of you together hmm? Were you having-" he begins but I cut him off.
"NO NO NO NO, oh my god no!" I say, my cheeks flushing with a bright color of red. I look over at Olly, and his were far worse than mine.
The class room filled with laughter, and I just wanted to cry, but I held back the tears.
"What's your name?" he asks us.
"My name is Oliver Bradly and this is Elena Johnson."
The man scratches his beard, deciding what to do.
"Mmm, okay. Go sit over there." he points to a table in the back. We nod and run over as fast as possible. When we sit down, I heave a heavy sigh.
"Oh lord, I'm glad that's over." I whisper to Olly.
"He scares me." he whispers back. I giggle at him and turn to the instructor.
"My name is Mr. Alan and I will be teaching this art class."
Olly nudges me, "Really? This is more like the army." I laugh at the comment while Mr. Alan continues.
"This class is quite easy, just follow the rules. Number 1, always be on time." He shoots us a dirty look, but we ignore it. "Number 2, do as I say. Number 3, no funny behavior. If you follow those rules, your time here will be very well spent."
He turns to the board and writes:
Supply-getter:
Passer-outer:
Turn-in-person:
Picker-upper:
"These will be the jobs I will assign you who volunteer. So first one, who wants to be the supply-getter?"
I look at Olly then shrug. I slowly raise my hand, and Mr. Alan nods and writes my name on the board. He asks for volunteers for the other jobs too, but I don't listen.
"Elena." Mr. Alan says, snapping me out of my daze.
"Yes?"
"Would you go get the supplies? They are downstairs on the second floor, in room 202. That's the storage room." he tells me.
"Sure." I shrug then get up.
I start to walk out into the hall when I feel a tap on my shoulder and swing around.
"Hey." Olly smiles at me.
"Oh hi, what are you doing?"
