Why do I do this to myself?
I coughed, blowing over a dust-covered book and checking the title. Nope, this wasn't it. Moving to the next book, I did the same, only to feel a burn in my nose and sneeze like a patient with allergies. My skin was itching non-stop, and my mouth felt like I swallowed a bowl of dirt.
But I couldn't stop. It was the first phase of my punishment no matter how unfair that was, and I had no say in it. Though I was also grateful to him for heeding to my pleas and not making me go to the dean.
I hadn't told anyone about it yet. Of course not my mom, and not even my friends. They were already extra worried regarding the past events that circled around me. They even went as far as hunting down the guy who uploaded the picture and possibly started the rumor, and going to his house at midnight to have him remove it. But it was done way before they arrived, and for some reason, the guy appeared terrified out of his wits, like he had seen a ghost or had death chase him down. He never said what happened, but he did apologize. Perhaps, his guilty conscience finally spoke up and won. Though not sure about the scared part which was strange.
I breathed deep to let out a sigh only to realize I inhaled a lungful of dust. A fit of cough shook my entire body, and I gagged in the process. God...
Pulling my shirt over my nose, I continued my search for the requested— wrong, ordered books in the abandoned part of the college library. I wondered why they cast this room aside when there were still books in it. But then my eyes fell on the torn piles of books in the corner and unusable furniture. They made it into a store room for forgotten things.
Poor books.
After a twenty minutes search and a bath in grime, I finally had the five books in my hands.
With one last sneeze, I hurried out of the room and ran back to the professor's office while having people eye me weirdly. I didn't have the time to investigate since I already spent more than allotted. It was ten minutes at most whereas I used twenty. Not my fault though. The books in there weren't catalogued. Or in good shape.
Reaching the dreaded lair, I knocked on the door and opened it. "May I come in, Professor?"
He sat behind his desk, his large body taking up the entirety of the leather chair in an impeccable posture exuding confidence and control. One hand pressed against his ear as he spoke into his phone while the other rose, putting up one long finger in a signal for me to wait.
I did as told and stood there, discreetly scratching my arms and neck so as not to appear ill-mannered. But I couldn't help the sniffle which made him finally look up, dark eyes scanning me in an once-over and ceasing somewhere beneath my face. His brows dipped infinitesimally, but I couldn't read the emotions in his face—if there was any, anyway. Although, the subtle way the corners of his lips curled in the next moment, I knew exactly what it was. Satisfaction.
I followed his gaze, and my eyes almost fell out of their sockets. My bare skin was all red and swollen from when I scratched at it. Not just that. My white shirt was now brown from dust stains in places. I probably looked like I just stepped out of a war zone.
But what had me confused was that the professor was satisfied to see me like this. Why?
Whatever it was, it was gone as fast as it came, leaving me even more puzzled. Now, I felt like I was imagining things all over again.
Breathing deeply and clearing my head, I approached him with a smile. "Here, Professor" I sniffled, sliding the books across his rich, dark wood desk.
He glanced at them and back at me, and slowly reached out, pushing the top four books with his index finger back towards me. "Return these," he said.
"What?" I blinked.
His lips thinned, his broad shoulders rising up and down in a dangerous sigh. "Do I, in any way, appear likely to repeat myself?"
I swallowed, shaking my head. "N-no."
The man scared me to my core, but I couldn't help noticing the way his finely-tailored suit accentuated his broad shoulders and muscled biceps, or the way his neatly groomed hair was combed back like a gentleman's. But he was anything but a gentleman. At least, to me. Yet, why did my fingers itched to glide them through the silky, smooth length of those dark strands?
He watched me stare at him for the few milliseconds before his eyes narrowed, snapping me out of my trance.
Oh my God! I was checking the professor out right in front of him!
"Ok. I'll go return them," I squeaked, feeling the burn in my neck, and gathered the books back into my arms, hurrying to the exit when he barked another order.
"Get cleaned up."
"Yes, Professor." I threw my answer over my shoulder before running out of his office and back into the forgotten library, and then straight to the washroom.
Once I was fresh and finished executing his commands, did I finally take a breath of relief. I couldn't fathom what was wrong with me. Why did I feel so bizarrely around him? Like my emotions were confused on which direction to go. Or was it another shortcoming in my system left by that night?
"Ana, where have you been the whole lunch hour?"
I jolted out of my thoughts before turning on my heels to find my friends approaching me in the washroom.
"We've been looking for you everywhere," Samara said, looking into the mirror and fishing out her lipgloss from her purse to reapply.
I frowned. How come I didn't sense them coming? I always did before.
I didn't get to wonder because Talia took a hold of my shirt, frowning herself. "What happened to you?"
"Nothing. It's just grime. Mr. Valerious—"
"Mr. Valerious?" she cut me off, her eyes widened with concern. "What did he do?"
"Relax, Tal." I eyed her, not getting the reason behind her paranoia regarding the professor. "He didn't do anything. He only gave me a task to fetch him some books from the library."
"Really?" She narrowed her eyes at me. "Why are you so dirty then?"
"That part of the library was abandoned. That's why."
"He sent you into that room? They use it for trash." Samara threw in her comment from the mirror.
"Yeah. But the place still has so many books."
"Unusable books," she pointed out.
"You don't know that," I shot back. I was trying to assure a worked-up Talia, but she was making it hard on me.
"Didn't I tell you to stay away from that man?" Talia questioned, her tone strict like the one my mother used when she scolded me about something.
"Why are you so afraid of him?" I asked. They had no history in the past that much was confirmed from their behavior. But for some reason, Talia was always tensed whenever he was in the vicinity even though she refused the fact.
She blinked, as if she finally realized what she was doing. At this point, Samara too stopped fixing her makeup and stared.
"I-I'm not." She laughed nervously bouncing her gaze from me to Samara. "I just want you guys to be safe."
I sighed. Maybe she was just a mother hen always worried. Another reason I didn't tell her about my punishment. "We are safe, Tal," I told her. "We're in college, and that's our teacher, not a killer."
Her face paled, and she swallowed before pulling herself back together and smiled. "You're right. I'm just being paranoid for no reason."
Samara pointed at Talia. "For a second there, you had me thinking the guy was the real devil."
"Sorry," Tal apologized, shaking her head. "Smack some sense into me the next time I do that."
"Gladly." Was Samara's immediate answer, making us burst into laughter.
"Let's go. We're getting late for class."
***
The rest of the day was going well until the final class arrived which belonged to Professor Valerious. He was, of course, a menace to everyone throughout the entire class. It was pin-drop silent, specially without the Blazes present. As much I heard, the gang was suspended for three days for beating up another student. As for Sheldon, he was given three days' leave to recover.
Though what didn't make sense was that none of them mentioned my name. Even though I wasn't at fault, Sheldon seemed determined on accusing me wrongly, and I didn't trust the others to defend me after our conversation. Or even if they did tell, no call came from the office.
Could it be that Mr. Valerious informed the dean about my punishment from him already? Maybe. Or else, why would they let me off the hook that easy? Although, I wasn't exactly let off the hook because judging by the way the professor's dark gaze found me at the end of the class, it was confirmed my punishment had just begun.
"Ms. Miracle, in my office. Now."
***
Stay safe!
Lots of love,
Mariyam