Weiss
I don't manage to get to Miss Goodwitch's classroom until after the day ends. Inside my mind is a whirling storm as I trudge down the vacant hallways, my feet thundering with every step. The rare light flickers like dying breaths, futilely attempting to hold on to life, even as its brethren fall to the darkness. Cold air brushes against my bare legs, goosebumps rising in retaliation.
Finally, I come to the classroom. My hand rises towards the pale wooden door, but moments before impact I find that I cannot push forward. My legs feel like they've lost all will to go one, my mind is begging me to change my course, and my chest is being crushed under the weight of the air around me.
I close my eyes, and breathe in. Cool, calming air crashes into my lungs, settling my body back into its normal operation.
Come on, I think. Get it together. You're a Schnee, not some layabout who panics at the first sign of trouble. Opening my eyes, I raise my hand up to the door, and this time I hit it. Three brief, sharp knocks smash through the silence, and I weave my fingers together, awaiting a reply.
I don't have to wait long. The door clicks and then swings open, revealing the irate face of Glynda Goodwitch, my math teacher/torturer. It takes her a minute to recognise me, and I feel my lips slip into a frown. Quickly correcting it, I stick out my hand.
"Weiss Schnee," I say, hoping to avoid any further delays. She takes it, warily, like it's a loaded gun that might go off at any moment. "I wanted to speak with you about my math test?"
Her eyes sharpen as who I am sets in. Her grip grows firmer, and she gives me a short nod. "Come in."
I smile, and walk in, shutting the door behind me. The room itself is no lighter than the hallways, save for a yellow lamp on Goodwitch's desk, providing a beacon for the two of us as we make our way through the class.
"Sorry about the light," she says, taking a seat behind her desk. "It's a new energy saving measure."
"It's quite alright."
She pulls out a drawer, the old wood shrieking as it grinds against its rails. Out from its depths comes a blindingly white stack of paper, harsh as the midday sun on a snowy mountain. "Weiss Schnee…Weiss Schnee…" she says as she flips through the pages, before laying one in front of me. It's mine; my name is near the top, inked in bent script. I slowly pick it up by its edges, taking care not to wrinkle the page. My eyes dart around its surface, searching for the double-digit number that will decide all.
Sixty.
Sixty percent.
That's…
That's barely passing!
My eyes careen upwards, meeting Goodwitch's in a clumsy display of panic. "This—this can't be right!"
"I'm afraid it is," she says, prying the paper out from my two dead hands. She flips it over, turning the… better side away from me and exposing the soft stomach of the beast. Her finger hovers over the final question. "I wanted to talk to you about this one…"
My breath hitches. The silver eyed girl had… talked to me about that one. Was that dolt the reason my mark is so low? I was going to strangle her!
"—your answer's correct, but your work isn't."
…What?
"Miss Goodwitch, what are you…?"
She sets the paper down and meets my eyes, peering into my soul as if she was firing bullets from her green depths. "Weiss, I know Ruby told you the answer."
I squint my eyes. "Ruby?"
"The girl sitting in front of you, with the red hoodie?"
My mind searches through its records, and still comes up empty. I lightly shake my head.
"Silver eyes?"
"Her!" I shout, filling in the gaps of my recall of the girl. Red hoodie, short, silver eyes. Gleaming silver eyes, full of liquid moonlight. What an odd colour…
"Her, yes." Goodwitch sighs. "Weiss, if I were to make a recommendation, I would suggest you drop down to dash-2 math—"
"No!" I slam my hands on the desk and shoot upwards, the chair shrieking in complaint as I push it behind me. "I can do this!" I have to do this.
She sighs again. "That's what I thought." Her hands push together, her fingers intertwining within each other. "So instead, I suggest that you find someone who can help you. Someone like Ruby," she says, her green eyes softening to overgrown grass. "She's one of my best students."
An undignified snort falls from my lips, tumbling into the room like an animal, driven mad by its own desires. "Please, that girl? How old is she, sixteen?"
The grass sharpens into poisoned thorns. "Fifteen. And currently sitting at ninety-eight average."
The bottom of my mouth briefly loses its connection to my brain and falls open, against my direct order to do otherwise. "Ninety…eight?" I breathe, blinking several times as if it would clarify her statement.
The right corner of her lip twitches upwards, almost imperceptibly. "Ninety-eight percent. Ninety-five in science."
A picture of the girl in question gains focus within my head as we speak, the photo lab of my head realising that 144p was not, in fact, enough detail. It's odd, I cannot remember what I answered for most of the those questions, yet I can still easily recall Ruby's hood, the way the light glinted off her teeth, the mouse-like squeak she gave when I first noticed her, or the way that my face was reflected within those deep eyes of hers, with my scar missing.
I let out a quiet sigh, and harden my graphite gaze into diamonds as I turn them back to Goodwitch. "I'll meet with her," I say, nodding. Glynda gives me a soft smile.
"I hope she can help you."
