LIFE WITHIN THE HALLS
Sandra
Monday, February 9th, 10:25 a.m.
Having read countless articles about Bel-Air's 'high class' school, I found myself in disbelief as one of the privileged, dressed in their uniform—a white shirt tucked into a short green skirt, with the school vest on top, a tie beneath it, and completing the ensemble with a pair of Mary Jane heels.
The school principal, the same one who had escorted me to the classroom for my test, concluded his speech in the assembly hall. He mentioned a few rules and stressed the importance of quality teaching and learning, highlighting ways we could strive for improvement.
The hall, with its expansive white tile floors, accommodated approximately three hundred seats, each filled with applauding students.
Amidst the applause, the principal called upon the school founder's granddaughter onto the stage. This prompted a wave of cheers to fill the hall as she, wearing a blazer on top of her uniform with a tag, made her way to the podium.
My goodness! There she was! The beautiful brown-skinned girl! I recognized her from the school's television advertisement.
"Good morning, fellow students. I'm Victoria Hill," she spoke with the same confidence she exuded in the school's ad. "As we gather here, we not only mark the beginning of another academic year, but also celebrate a significant milestone in our school's history—the 30th anniversary of its founding..."
I sat beside my new friend, Gideon, in the first row in the hall. His tap on my shoulder drew my attention away from the stage. "Victoria is so boring to listen to," he murmured, casting a subtle nod towards the stage. "I'd rather chat with you instead."
The way he spoke about her made me realize he didn't exactly hold her in high regard, or they both didn't.
"What do you wanna talk about?" I asked, matching his tone.
"Um... the math test. How was it for you? I mean, first day in a school, then boom, there's a test," he said. That was literally the second time he had asked me about the test.
"It was okay," I gave him my earlier reply, and his gaze drifted back to the stage.
Honestly, the idea of tackling a math test didn't sit well with me. I hadn't even wanted to write it, but options were limited. Admissions had closed before I could apply, leaving me with only two choices: take the test or defer admission to the next semester.
"Let us honor the past while embracing the future with optimism. Long live Hill Academy! Long live Bel-Air! Long live America!" Victoria ended her speech.
I fidgeted in my seat, the loud, cheerful noise in the hall blurring in my mind as I watched droplets fall from the gallery above. I tried to ignore them, but the drops taunted me, slowly staining my black, straight hair. Then, I felt a warm sensation on my forehead. I reached up to touch it, only to let out a loud shriek. "Blood!"
An uproar ensued as a girl in a cheerleading uniform tumbled from the gallery, sending shockwaves through the hall. Two students hurried to examine the body more closely, and one exclaimed, "The head cheerleader is dead!"
Dead? There were no visible signs of injury, so what could have caused her death? And why was blood coming from her nose?
In the midst of the chaos, the principal took charge. He directed the handling of the deceased body and urged us to remain calm.
I stood there in shock, staring blankly at the dead body placed on a gurney.
The principal urged us to calm down and return to our classrooms. Some hurried out in panic, while others, with faces showing they had accepted life's harsh realities, bore the news of the death with apathy.
I left the hall with Gideon, my mind consumed by thoughts of the head cheerleader's death.
"I don't know how Daniel is going to take the death of his girlfriend," Gideon said.
"The head cheerleader was Daniel's girlfriend?" I asked.
"Yeah, they started dating a week before the semester break," he replied. "I wonder where Daniel is. He told me he would come to the assembly hall after checking up on one or two things, but he didn't show up."
"He might be in class, where else?" I assumed.
Daniel must be devastated. I knew all too well the pain of losing someone dear, even if they were far away.
I stopped walking and turned to Gideon. "What do you think caused the head cheerleader's death?" I asked.
"I'm not sure. Let's wait for the autopsy report," he replied.
"That reminds me," I said. "I quite remember it was in the news that a girl committed suicide in this school two years ago. Were you friends with her?"
"Yea... no," he stuttered.
"Yes or no?" I pressed, wanting to get to the bottom of things.
"Don't stress, Sandra," he replied, looking away. "It's your first day at this school, so don't let overthinking ruin it."
His words only fueled my curiosity. There was something Gideon was hiding from me.
"Go clean the blood from your hair," he said, pointing towards the washroom before departing, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
After tidying up in the washroom, I made my way back to class. I had a bit of a struggle with the dryer, its operation was completely different from the ones I was used to.
Upon my return to class, Gideon was there, sitting quietly. And the others? They carried on with their own stuff, seemingly unaffected by the head cheerleader's death.
"Sandra Wilmer?" The girl from the school's ad approached me. Oh, right, Victoria Hill.
I nodded, and she continued, "You're welcome to our class. I'm the class president."
Wow! Founder's granddaughter, class president. I bet many girls envied her.
"Here's your locker card," she said, handing me a card with my name and serial number on it. "Just show it to the card reader on locker 08, and it will open automatically."
"Thanks," I replied, tucking it behind my phone.
Soon, I got caught up in the class tradition of welcoming new students. I introduced myself—sharing my name, age, and passion for reading.
Victoria then asked the class to introduce themselves to me, and I nodded along, maintaining a friendly demeanor. One by one, they stood up, sharing their names and a few tidbits about themselves. While some spoke with ease, others seemed hesitant, as if they were being forced to do so. Nevertheless, everything went smoothly until it got to the last student's turn-the only girl with glasses.
Before the girl could utter a word, Victoria's face contorted in pain. Her eyes rolled back, and she collapsed to the floor, her chair clattering loudly behind her.
The sudden commotion silenced the room, all eyes now fixed on Victoria's crumpled form.
"Is she okay?" someone whispered anxiously.
I watched in horror as a guy, probably a member of the school's Red Cross team—from the tag on his chest—reacted quickly, rushing to her side.
Victoria slowly regained consciousness after some time, blinking as she tried to focus.
"Are you okay?" the Red Cross guy asked.
She nodded weakly, her hand reaching to her forehead. "I think so," she murmured.
With the help of the guy, she managed to sit up on her desk.
I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding, grateful that the situation hadn't been more serious. I then turned to the girl with glasses. She had taken her seat already, so I had to take mine too, without getting to know her name.
The room grew quieter. I noticed my classmates engaged in two particular activities: some, like me, were reading books, while the rest, like the girl with glasses, were on their phones.
Just as I turned to another page of Gillian Flynn's "Gone Girl," the wail of the siren shattered the calm, followed by a message;
"Hello, students. The school board deeply laments the events of today..."
Continuing, the voice added, "...tomorrow, February 10th, there will be a tribute at the school backyard in remembrance of our dear head cheerleader."
At 1:00 p.m., the bell rang. According to the school rules outlined by the principal, the regular closing time was half past one. But, because it was the first day of a new semester and also a test day, the schedule had been shifted.
As my classmates started to trickle out of the class, I closed the novel I had been reading and stashed it in my bag. Gideon's troubled expression caught my eye, his movements quick as he slung his bag over his shoulder and headed toward another guy's desk.
I didn't intend to eavesdrop on their convo, but his worried face stirred my concern. The only snippet I managed to catch was, "Are you sure you haven't seen him?" he asked, and the guy shook his head.
Gideon left quickly without bidding me farewell. He was looking for someone, maybe his best friend Daniel? I hadn't seen him since breakfast.
"Ain't you going home?" Victoria's voice startled me.
"No," I replied as I got up. "I'm actually on my way out, class prez."
"Call me by my name, I prefer that," she insisted, and I nodded in agreement.
"Can I... um... ask you something?" I shifted on my feet.
"Sure!" She gestured for me to continue and then apologized, "I'm sorry, I should have taken you on a tour around the school."
This girl had no idea I had read and watched videos about every corner of the school on YouTube.
"Oh, no problem," I said. "What I want to ask is not about the school, it's about you."
"Me? What do you want to know about me?"
"Uh..." I tilted my head, "why did you collapse earlier?"
"I was... um... feeling dizzy. I didn't sleep well last night," she explained, avoiding direct eye contact with me.
I faked a wide smile, doubt gnawing at me.
Victoria couldn't lie convincingly. Though her explanation made sense, her behavior suggested there was more to her collapse. I had a lot of questions for her.