Chapter 3: Janitor Closet Blues

5K 68 33
                                    


I heard an alarm going off. Slowly my hand searched for it to shut it up. I haven't had a peaceful sleep in a while, and I wanted it to last. But then my hand felt the cold tile. I shot up.

I checked the time and breathed a sigh of relief, ten minutes till Bio class ended, meaning I still had time to chill. Unfortunately, someone was in the stall next to mine. Again with my bad luck. I was past hoping, so I assumed the worst; it was either Jock #1 or #2.

Thinking this, I knew there was one option if I wanted to get to History today. Get out of the restroom and run.

I quickly packed up all of my items, the bloody bandages, my history notebook, and the first aid kit. I slowly unlocked the door, successfully unlocking it without a sound. Then I looked under my stall door for any feet; I didn't want to go through all this work just to get pummelled. When I saw none, I almost rejoiced.

Then as silently as possible, I crawled under the stall door, dragging my belongings with me. Standing up, I quietly walked out of the restroom. Once I was out, I sprinted to the closest exit to dispose of my bandages.

Exiting the building, I ran to the alleyway on the side of the school and lifted the lid of the nearest dumpster. Throwing my used bandages in, I closed the lid and ran right back into the school.

The bell rang.

I immediately gathered myself up and ran down the hallways. Ignoring my screaming body, I skidded to a stop at the entrance to my History Class. Taking a deep breath, I opened the door and entered.

As per usual, I was the first one here besides the teacher. Some kids were still packing up, but I didn't mind. I just walked up to the desk, furthest away from everyone else, and sat down.

I looked around the classroom, taking in the weird history junk on the walls. There were some photos with writing of some kind, but I couldn't be bothered to read it.

The teacher, Mr.Brunner, was a nice guy who was really passionate about anything that happened before him. I almost found History enjoyable with how animated he talked about it. But sadly, in my history class were the worst people I could be paired with—the popular clique. I don't mean a small group either; virtually, the whole class is filled with jocks, playboys, playgirls, and cheerleaders. Some went into both categories. It didn't matter, though; they made the one class that could've been the most enjoyable, my most dreaded.

Thankfully they couldn't get away with much because Mr.Brunner had the sharpest eyes I've ever seen on a teacher. Which isn't saying much but let's just say that he caught someone throwing a note to someone during a test while he was concentrating on his own work. To add some bonus points, Mr.Brunner knew who threw it and who received it, and I didn't even see him look up from where he was writing.

But even though Mr.Brunner caught most of these populars actions, he didn't see all of it. You would think that these guys would use their brains to think of a way to study better, but no, they use this odd cleverness to mess with me.

I've learned to get used to it. Still, this overpowering force that I avoided in the hallways was impossible to avoid in class.

I sighed as the warning bell rang. I counted down the minute until the beginning class bell rang.

When it finally did, I was off by a second and grumbled into my hoodie. Even though the atmosphere was suffocating, I still enjoyed watching my teacher teach. He did goofy examples and sometimes played out a famous scene in a story.

But when class was over. That was when I needed to watch out.

The bell rang.

I needed to get out fast. I grabbed my history notebook waved, goodbye to Mr.Brunner, and sprinted to the classroom doors. That's when everything fell.

His LifelineWhere stories live. Discover now