Livid.

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Livid
/liv-id/
adjective
dull blue; dark, grayish blue

~~~

  Needless to say, they weren't late to class again.

  Calum and Thora played the role of decent students, going to classes, copying notes, writing down the homework assignments and pretending they would do them. They went to school, did their work, came home, and smoked. They didn't care about being late to any of their classes but one- third period, eleven o'clock.

  Mr.Irwin came to detention as he'd promised, only instead of just checking that they were there, he stayed for the entire hour and taught them what they missed. He spoke softly and relaxed, doing his best to explain to them. Thora tried to play along, asking questions when she was supposed to. Calum just glared daggers at him.

  The next day, Mr.Irwin came again. He helped them complete their homework and made sure they stayed on track the entire time. They had to explain the difference of symbolism and imagery, and even though Mr.Irwin claimed it was too easy an assignment, Calum didn't know whag to write. Thora spewed out a bullshit quarter of a page comparing the two literal definitions, and Calum scribbled on his paper, pretending to write. They gave the papers to Mr.Irwin when they left.

  "How do you grade them?" Thora asked, genuinely curious, but mostly just wondering if she should've doodled like Calum.

  "I don't. My teaching assistant does. You see, I'm not very good at reading."

  It was supposed to be a joke but neither of them laughed. They were going to fail this class whether or not they showed up.

  That night Calum got high, really high. He screamed. Something about shadows and knives. They fell asleep late. Came to class the next morning, all eyebags and grim attitudes, and went to Mr.Irwin's class, with plans to leave immediately after. It wasn't a whole hour but it felt like a day. What he was teaching sounded interesting, but neither of the deliquaints had enough energy to listen and hear what he had to say.

  If no one answered his questions, Mr.Iriwn would cold call, and at one point, he called on Thora.

  She told him she didn't know, with a few choice vocabulary words that definitely weren't on the list, and he told her to stay after class.

  It was just so. Thora watching longingly as Calum left, actually having a conversation with Luke, and though it didn't seem very interesting, Thora would've preferred it to being stuck in the room with Mr.I.

  She sat on the top of one of the front row desks, and he leaned against his own desk, frowning at her. "You're not in trouble," he announced, as if she was worried about it. "I just wanted to talk."

  Thora recalled earlier in the week, Mr.Tomlinson trapping her in his classroom, just the two of them alone.
  "I don't want to talk."

  "And that's why we have to." Mr.Irwin didn't see her squeezing her eyes closed, or the way she clenching her fingers around the side of the desk. "'You can close your eyes to the things you don't want to see,'" he recited, "'but you can't close your heart to the things you don't want to feel.' I get the feeling you're feeling a lot of things you don't want to feel right now."

  Breathes through gritted teeth. "Is that a quote? Let me guess- Aristotle?"

  Thora knew nothing of quotes and nothing of Aristotle, but it sounded deep and Aristotle seemed like a good guess.

  The teacher laughed lightly at the guess. "Close. Jonny Depp."

  He moved his hands in his lap, and Thora squirmed lightly. He wasn't touching her yet, but she wasn't a fan of unprecedented touches. She had no reason to be this way besides some rude comments she'd gotten and some incorrect assumptions people made about her, but besides Calum, she didn't care for people touching her without her permission.

  Mr.Irwin didn't touch her though. He just sat quietly, and waited. "Talk to me. What's going on, get it off your chest."

  Thora felt her chest being compressed inwards, her tongue stumbling over itself. "It doesn't matter," she scowled, forcing herself to cross her arms defensively.

  She expected him to argue with her, but instead he just nodded. "Fine then, if you say so. At least come here and give me a hug."

  If it were Mr.Tomlinson, that sentence wouldn't be quite so inncocent. But it wasn't Mr.Tomlinson.

  So Thora got to her feet, and walked into her teachers open embrace. He was still seated on the edge of the desk, with his legs slightly apart, so she had to go in between them to hug him. He had long arms, that wrapped around her and squeezed tightly.

  It felt nice. Reassuring. Thora felt like if she wanted to, she could cry, but she found no reason to.

  But when she tried to pull back, he remained holding on to her. "What have you been doing?" he asked, his voice going from relaxed to tense in milliseconds.

  Thora tried to yank herself out of his grip, but her held fast, on arm pressing her back closer to his chest, the other grabbing her other hand and forcing it behind her when she tried to push him away.

  "Let go, or, or-"

  His face was completely horror stricken. "What did you take? What did you do?"

  She could barely hear his words, his actions speaking far louder. He was holding her against him, her bare thighs hitting against the edge of the desk as she struggled against him. She wished she kept a knife in her pocket, like Mikey. She wished Calum were her. She wished she could spray paint Mr.Irwin's stupid face red, so he'd look like what she was surely looking like now, as flustered as a fire truck. "Let go of me, or I will scream so loud-"

  Then she was released, and her look of defensive fear and anger was met with one of absolute disgust and horror. "What the hell?" He hissed. "What the hell?"

  "What's wrong with you?" she accused loudly, grabbing her backpack to have something to hold. "What the fuck is wrong with you, grabbing me like that-"

  "Have you been smoking?" he cut her off. "Have you been smoking weed?"

  Her feet were cement and her legs were putty frozen in place. "What?"

  "Why- how- why would you smoke weed? Do you realize how dangerous, how it can affect your health-"

  "Wait, you're upset about weed?"

  He stopped. "Of course! It's dangerous, you can't-"

  "I'm going," she announced, turning and running out of the classroom.

  "Wait! Don't-"

  The little bell over the door rang and the door squeaked as it shut on it's own, the girl with black lipstick and a red face disappearing from the classroom.

 

 

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