Monday.
Possibly one of the worst days of the week.
Esme barely slept a wink last night. He was all she thought about, until the early hours of the dawn.
By the time she was able to sleep, she could already hear her mother calling from downstairs to get ready for school.
I can't do this. Not today. Please God not today.
She covered her head with a pillow as she closed her eyes.
She tried to fall back asleep but it was impossible, the throbbing in her leg had woken her up.
Slowly she pushed the pink covers aside and grabbed her crutches. She slowly limped her way out of her room and across the hall, her crutches made that awful squeaking noise when she stepped on a loose floorboard. She could still see it was dark outside, approximately 4 am. Classes started at 6 am sharp.
She entered the bathroom and closed the door behind her. She had remembered she wasn't allowed to take a full shower to avoid wetting her cast. So instead, she grabbed her face towel and started to soak it with soap and water as she sat at the edge of the bathtub. She gently scrubbed her arms and right leg. When it came to cleaning the left leg she took a pause and closed her eyes, afraid that the soap and water might sting. She opened one eye and started to clean around the cast, a sigh of relief escaping her lips in realization that the pain was slowly subsiding. There were still some reddish scratches on her skin from that fall, but nothing time couldn't heal.
She was fully dressed in her school uniform an hour later.
The walk to school takes 15 minutes but, with her condition it took her an extra 10 minutes just to get there. The sky was murky with clouds that day as strong winds blew past the small town.
She had finally arrived at her destination. The old school was in sight.
She quickly entered the cavernous hallway that held the stale patina of time. The silence of the long corridors told her that classes had started.
She found her classroom. Esme had a feeling this day would not go so well.
The teacher was dictating when she gingerly scurried to her seat.
"Turn your history books to page 205. And remember. . . ."
The teacher took a pause as she looked at Esme's leg.
Her craggy face contorted into a sly smile.
"Tardiness will not be tolerated . . . whatever the excuse may be."
The last sentences were drawled out with contempt.
Esme winced.
She quickly took out her large textbook and turned it to the required page. Her classmates were still staring at her with an odd look she didn't understand. She quickly averted her gaze and concentrated on her book.
Mrs. Kenway was the name of their History teacher.
Esme rarely disliked being around people. But Mrs. Kenway was an exception.
Esme loved history. But she dreaded each day she had to spend with Mrs. Kenway's what was it called again? Oh of course, disciplinary methodsof teaching.
If they were at sea, Mrs. Kenway would be the captain and Esme would be the hapless member of the crew that would be forced to walk down the plank for mutiny.
It was not because she was rebellious, far from it actually. She was a very obedient child and cared deeply of what others needed and wanted from her. The truth of the matter is that she simply had her own ideals and was one of the rare few adolescents of that decade who actually wanted to share her thoughts and ideas to people who were older than her. In those days, if you were younger and didn't want any trouble, sit down and keep quiet. But of course these things did not apply to her in any way. She didn't want to be tied down, most of all she didn't want to end up a conformist. She was a young woman with goals and dreams. Some would say she is naive, but her innocence is what shields her from the harsh and high demands of society. No one can properly judge her and say she's that or she's this, because they don't take the time to actually hear what she has to say. And thus she learned to keep her thoughts to herself. Why should she waste her words on people who care not to see the world in another's eyes? But beneath such strong will and mind, is a soft and gentle core. Easily hurt and easily bruised, which can come at a price.
The history lesson seemed to drag into infinitum. The monotonous voice of Mrs. Kenway resonating into the dreary classroom. She found herself staring out the window.
The sky had turned into an odd shade of grey. Its clouds contorted into a horrible rictus as they gathered in the centre, clearly a sign that a storm was coming.
She surreptitiously took a glance across the classroom. All her classmates were busy with their books while Mrs Kenway wrote on the chalkboard.
Underneath her History book was her journal. She took it out and turned to an empty page.
"We shall conclude this lesson class, with your next week's assignment. . ."
Mrs. Kenway's beady grey eyes landed on Esme.
She had been doodling flowers on her diary and on an impulse wrote his name down, when a shadow of a figure got reflected on the paper's sheet.
Oh no.
"I believe our young Ms. Platts is distracted from our class today."
Esme could feel the stares from her classmates dig into her back.
The teacher's voice was seething in sarcasm.
Esme looked up, filled with cold fear. There was a sadistic smile on Mrs Kenway's face.
"What have you been writing, dear child?" Mrs. Kenway asked feigning reassuring benevolence.
"I-I" Esme was fighting for words.
Without warning, the teacher snatched the diary from Esme's hands and walked up to her desk.
Esme closed her eyes in silent prayer. Please don't let her turn the page, please God.
She opened her eyes and felt tension melt away. The teacher had stayed only on the page she was drawing on.
Thank God.
She watched as the teacher slowly made her back to where she was sitting.
"You're lucky I let you have this back." She said as she thrust the journal back into Esme's hands.
"But do tell me dear child, aren't you a little young for daydreaming?" Mrs. Kenway asked with an arched eyebrow.
Esme tried to muster an answer but failed. Instead, she lowered her head and kept her eyes on the floor.
"You should know better than to daydream about boys, child. What was his name again? Oh yes, how silly of me to forget. Carlislewas the name is it not?"
Esme closed her eyes as a wave of humiliation swept over her.
Mrs. Kenway walked back to her desk.
"I shall expect by next week to no longer see that journal of yours in my class. Lest should we go to extreme measures. I do not want to see your parent's disappointment in your behaviour. Do I make myself clear?"
The entire classroom had their eyes on her, as she gave a quiet nod.
"That's a good girl, Ms. Platts." Mrs. Kenway said with a smile so contrived, it almost looked painful to look at.
Later during recess.
She was seated at the far left corner of the old cafeteria. She meticulously chose the place that was the farthest from her classmates. She just wanted to be left alone, for a while at least.
She was eating a slice of pie when two of the girls from her class passed by.
"You mean he's that handsome doctor who was taking over for Dr. Peterson?" A short red-headed girl said as she took a quick glimpse at Esme.
"I don't care if he's a doctor or if he's handsome, she should be ashamed of herself." A tall blonde replied, her voice filled with contempt.
"Why Suisie Mae, you shouldn't say things like that." The redhead said.
"What? It's the truth. He's much older than her, how could she possibly conceive of such an idea?"
They both turned as they noticed she had been listening to their conversation.
"Let's go." The blonde said as she walked past Esme, looking down at her.
For the first time, food had lost its taste. The aftertaste that lingered in her mouth made her sick. She fought back a tear as she looked across the room.
She realized for the first time that she never quite liked the color of the walls of the cafeteria. They were painted a stale kind of blue. It made the atmosphere feel heavy and mandatory. She felt like the walls were closing in on her. She was beginning to get dizzy as she stood up and limped with her crutches out the door.
She couldn't take it anymore. She just had to get out of there.
Those girls. . .
The way they looked at her. . .
Esme climbed a steep 3 flight of stairs on the way to the old abandoned section of the school. Perspiration covered her face at the last step she took.
She wiped her face with her hand as she took in a breath. She never felt more alone in her life.
She took a seat on one of the stair's steps and leaned against the ancient and decrepit pale blue wall. Esme didn't want to go back down there, not with them lookingat her like that. She felt like some sort of animal that was caged and presented to the ruthless public, throwing peanuts at her as they pressed their snotty face through metal bars.
All she could do now was hope that their teasing would last for only one day.
And that's ifshe gets lucky.
A/N: Here's Chapter 3 for you guys out there :) Thank you so much for all the reveiws, I love them all. Remember story suggestions are welcome :) keep reveiwing! they make me blush with happiness :D stay tuned for chapter 4 :)