Chapter Twenty Eight: Lost

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I hadn't realized that the bell had rung until I noticed everyone around me was standing up out of their seats and exiting the classroom. I quickly gathered my books and made my way to my next class. 

I had already reached the science building when I realized I was going the wrong way. It was a Tuesday, not Friday. I didn't have Biology class now, I had History. 

I made an awkwardly abrupt turn and headed back, retracing my footsteps back to the main building, where Mr. Wilson's History class was. By the time I arrived, I was late. The door was shut and I could hear the loud and booming voice of Mr. Wilson lecturing the class.

With some hesitation, I pushed open the door and entered the classroom. Mr. Wilson spun around, and frowned at me.

"Miss Rousseau, can I help you?"

It was only then that I noticed that every single one of the students staring at me was from the year below me. I felt my cheeks flare with humiliation as I backed out of the room. 

"No, sorry, um - wrong classroom. Sorry, sir," I muttered. 

He gave me a slightly smug smile. "A little lost today, are we, Allison?"

I laughed out of politeness, although laughing was probably the last thing that came naturally to me at that moment. "Yeah. Sorry again, sir," I said, and left the classroom. Once the door was shut I bounded away down the corridor, confused thoughts whirring around my mind. I was sure I had History class now. What was wrong with me today?

"Allison?"

I spun around once more, to see Mr. Wilson gently shutting his classroom door shut. He walked quickly to catch up with me.

At first I thought he was going to give out to me. Mr Wilson usually had no problem publicly shaming his students or handing out detentions like there was no tomorrow. But today, something was different.

"Hey, Allison, are you alright? You seem a bit off today."

I nodded my head so eagerly it was surely blatantly false. "I'm fine," I told him. "It's February and I still don't know my timetable," I laughed. 

He smiled at that. "I've had the same timetable for fifteen years, Allison. I'll never know it," he chuckled, his hand scratching at the growing silver in his dark hair. "But really, it's not just me who's noticed your behaviour recently."

I felt myself growing smaller in his presence. "Behaviour?" I repeated, confused.

He hesitated. "Some of your teachers have expressed concern for you these past few weeks. I know it's your final year, and there's a lot of stress put on students to do well in this school, but you've always been so diligent and so hardworking- and I'm sorry to say that your recent grades are showing a serious lack of any kind of work at all."

I wasn't sure what to say, so I just nodded along at his words.

"What I'm trying to say is this - in all my years as a teacher - all 28 of them - when good, clever, capable young women like yourself begin to deteriorate in their schoolwork, it's because of one of these two reasons: 1. There's something seriously wrong going on in her personal life, or 2. She's gotten herself a boyfriend. Now, seeing as I have yet to see you prancing the corridors, hand in hand with some oaf on the wrestling team, we have to assume here that you're suffering from reason number one."

Mr. Wilson sighed a little, and then I felt his hand on my arm. 

"Allison, is there something you want to tell me?" he asked. 

I shook my head. "No," I said. The lie came naturally to me. 

"Well, if there is, you know where to find me. Even after school, or after class, or whenever - I'm always free for a chat," he grinned. "Okay?"

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