VENEFICA

[01] This Is Where Your Story Begins

"Elora," the man called out. "You're late..."

Elora stood up straight, fixed a part of her brown hair that managed to come undone from her braid and brushed the dirt off herself. "Not really, Mr. Ednill," she replied with a shrug, picking up the bag that she threw onto the floor just moments before. She effortlessly swung one of the straps over her left shoulder. "You see, I arrived 1.493 seconds before you did. Therefore, technically I was in the room before you and cannot be counted as late." She made her way to one of the empty desks in the second row and grinned victoriously.

"I won't count it this time, but don't push it, Elora," replied Mr. Ednill. His eyes showed no emotion, and his expression was stern. "We don't want to repeat what happened last year."

Amid the distraction, Claire quietly took her seat next to a petite girl in the back of the room. The girl's short, dark brown, and curly hair seemed to glow in the sunlight that peeked through the window.

"What happened last year?" Claire muttered in wonder.

"She hit thirty-two late last spring. Ten of which were for attendance, twelve were homework, six were classwork, and four were field trip related," the girl responded, "I'm Mystic, by the way." She stuck out her hand for Claire to shake. "And judging from your lack of knowledge of who Elora Cole is, you must be the newbie," Mystic smiled. "Also, you're in Abelle's seat."

Claire nodded her head and politely shook Mystic's hand, "I'm sorry, I'll move then." She awkwardly picked up her book bag to prepare to move. She didn't know who this "Abelle" was, but she also didn't know how forgiving Abelle would be if she stayed in this seat.

"I'm-" Claire began to introduce herself to Mystic when Mr. Ednill's thick cough cut her sentence short. It signaled that the class was about to start.

Mr. Ednill, despite his strange lengthy stature—some kids would describe him as a spaghetti man—was the kind of teacher that most students never thought twice about. He made it clear that he believed the relationship between teacher and student was education-oriented. In his class, there was a particular order to uphold and maintain at all times. Rumor has it that if you dared to visit during his office hours to discuss anything other than the current lesson, the chair where you sat would literally spring and fly you out of the room.

In a loud, austere tone, he called Claire up to the front of the class.

Afraid of what would happen if she disobeyed, she carefully made her way down from the top row seat and to the large cherrywood desk next to Mr. Ednill.

"I bet you were all wondering who this lovely new student in our homeroom is?" Ednill asked the class. Everyone groaned simultaneously. It wasn't because the student body did not welcome new students, but more for the fact that Mr. Ednill had brought up the arrival of a "new student" on the daily for the entire previous month. The class was obviously sick of hearing about it.

She knew that they weren't wondering who she was, yet Mr. Ednill couldn't help but lecture on. "She transferred here from the coast of the Pacific Ocean, isn't that right?" He looked to Claire for a response.

Claire nodded her head in agreement and smiled at the class. They all stared back at her blankly. "Yes, that's true, I-" she began, yet was stopped in her tracks by a loud bang. Each head in the class turned to face a boy stomping into the classroom, grumbling to himself with his gaze locked onto the floor. He furiously made his way to a seat in the front row. His face was flushed red. His teeth gritted together tighter with every mumble he managed to squeeze out.

"You're late, Niccolo." Ednill spat out the name "Niccolo" like a curse. The stern look he had with Elora just moments before appeared once again. This time it was for Niccolo.