The class was quiet for the most part. Whispers spread throughout the students when they saw the mask. Only ones who didn't have discipline needed the mask, being thrown in shame and humiliation. The teacher called out for the student in question. Her raised arm pointed towards the girl next to me, the shock clear and her gentle features. She was trembling, her shaky arms barely able to raise her body up from her desk. Her flowing dress skimmed my shoes, the cloth getting painted with dust. When she walked up the isle of desks, the students closest went quiet, the teacher slowly getting impatient with her slow movements. She told the girl to get walking, the mask was waiting for her. The mask in question was on the board, its smile gleaming and its eyes glaring. I remember the last student who had the mask, his outburst pierced my ears. His tears flowing down his face while saying something. I don't know what happened with him, only that he needed the lesson. This girl must also need the lesson so I will not question why. She finally met the teacher up front, the shadow consuming her. I don't know what her emotion was. She was silent and accepted her fate. The teacher spoke, yet the words didn't sink into me. Every student in the class watched as the teacher finally went silent, grabbing the mask, moving to show the girl. The light hit her face, I could finally see streaks of dried tears and her gentle eyes foggy. Finally the teacher put the mask on her, leaving only the girl's body showing. The class burst into laughter, a requirement of the mask. Finally, she left the classroom, the lights seem to be dimmed. Later during that day I could see her climbing the stairs to the top floor, my floor. I don't know why she was climbing the stairs, but I could see people laughing from below. Half her body was in shadow, her dress flowing from behind her. The mask never seemed to affect her movements, yet she felt different. I laughed, from atop the stairs and the response was immediate, she paused in her step. I saw her posture change and her shoulders slouch. Yet she kept walking up the stairs. Her dress once again skimmed my shoes and I could hear her slight sobs.
I wonder what happened to her after that.
