Chapter 1

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Today, just like every year, our school is having a work day. It is the middle of the current school-year, and we are all just getting back from winter break, starting the second semester. I'm in 12th grade, attending Westfield High School. I'm only 17, meaning I'm one of the youngest people in the class; almost everyone else has already turned 18.


Just like we would any other day, we are going to grab our things and go to class. We already had all of our exams, so today is about wrapping up everything we have learned so far in the year, and possibly starting on some new material. For us high-schoolers, we are in basic English, Math, History and Science classes.


Except today is different. Not having been told why, we have to go to our home-room, which just happens to be one of the worst rooms in the school; the music room. It's right next to the gym and has no windows, so it smells of musical-instrument spit and old, sweaty socks.


After walking to the school, despite it being winter and nearly -10 degrees outside, I continuously pull at my small cardigan, trying to wrap it closer to my body if at all possible. I find a piece of paper taped on the music room door: 12th Graders. I pull open the large door and step inside, going up the three steps and into the classroom.


As I mentioned before, I'm only seventeen years old, so I spend most of my time drawing, reading, writing or listening to music, or as my mother used to call it, "zoning out".


Just like usual, in case we have a substitute teacher, I observe the things around the teacher's desk. The usual teacher is Mrs. Kovak, and her jacket is not sitting on the chair like it would be if she were here.


She has a large winter jacket, nearly reaching to the bottoms of her knees, and there would be no use in lugging that large piece of material around the heated school. I.E. if her jacket is gone, she is gone.


Now, I begin to examine the pieces of paper on the desk. I find a printed email from Mr. Addams, the school Principle, placed neatly on the keyboard. I pick it up and begin to read:


"Boys, I should warn you that this class can be a bit rowdy if they do not feel like doing anything. Of course, more recently than not, you all would have been seated where they currently are, so you most likely understand what I am talking about when I say that you need to keep them entertained. I have placed a couple of assignments that you can have them do on the chair."


I stop reading for a few seconds to look at the chair. Indeed, just like Mr. Addams said there would be, there are multiple worksheets that we will be assigned. I debate grabbing them now, but to whoever these "boys" are, it would look weird to them that a student was rooting through the teachers' things. I turn my attention back to the email, continuing to read.


"Just have everyone sit where they normally would and the rest is up to you. If you want, you can let them talk quietly amongst themselves or not let them talk at all.


Good luck,


Mr. Addams"


Wow, he really doesn't like us, does he? Mr. Addams has a soft spot for me, though. He used to be really good friends with my uncle; they went to this school together. Little did he know he would end up becoming the principal.


Re-examining the note to ensure there is nothing I missed, it suddenly hits me. If Mrs. Kovak is not here to teach, who is teaching us? Who are those "boys"?

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