Hopelessly Drowning

Chapter 14

The first thing I saw when I walked into the classroom was the large wooden desk pressed up against the windows on the far side of the room. It was messy, covered with stacks of papers and books. The file holders on the desks were filled with sheets of paper, crumpled and folded into the metal wire. The only remnant of order was the labeled turn-in bins that were overflowing with stapled packets haphazardly stacked in a pile.

Behind the desk, sitting in midst of the explosion of ink and white was a tall thin man who I assumed was Mr. Whitman. His face was long, creased, and worn with time. His hair was short and brown, threaded with silver. His head was bent down to look at the paperback book he was holding, seemingly unaware of everyone else in the room.

I turned away from his desk, to survey the rest of the room, my heart speeding up when I saw the bunches of people scattered all around the room. There were teens sitting on desks and chairs, bodies angled towards one another. Backpacks were strewn everywhere, lying on desks and thrown carelessly under chairs.

The buzz of conversation in the room finally hit me and I could feel myself begin to become overwhelmed at it all. The many presences around me only made me more skittish and anxious.

I limped forward on my crutches, keeping my head down as I walked by my classmates. I could hear their conversations pause for a moment, the silence only serving to worsen my anxiety. Then they started up again, their tones now hushed and low. 

I maneuvered my way through the sea of desks and chairs, careful not to slip on stray backpack straps. I made my way to an empty seat near the back windows. Carefully leaning my crutches against the wall behind me, I collapsed into my seat, my shoulders sinking in exhaustion.

I pressed my hand up against the glass of the window,  tracing the shapes of the barren trees outside and relishing the sharp chill that the cool glass went up my arm. I caught a glimpse of my faint reflection in the window. A faint pair of my own dark eyes stared back at me, dim and tired above dark purple smudges that stood out starkly against abnormally pale skin.

A sharp ring pierced the air, making me jump in my seat and flinch away from the source of the noise. The ringing finally ended to the sound of squeaking chairs and the shuffling of backpacks. The many conversations that were once taking place in the room had come to a halt, the silence only broken by the occasional whisper.

"Alright class, I hope you had a good weekend."

Mr. Whitman had put down his book and was now standing behind his desk, his eyes roving the classroom as he spoke.

"Today we will continue reading the beginning of Lord of the Flies and you will turn in your final drafts for your paper on How To Kill a Mockingbird that you were supposed to finish over the weekend."

I heard loud grumbles from around the class, as people shuffled to pull out creased books and battered computers.

"Let's run attendance before we begin," he said, ignoring the sounds of protests coming from his students.

I swallowed as I realized that I wouldn't be able to just slip into the class undetected. The sliver of hope that I would have been able to be invisible, gone through the day completely unnoticed, was dashed. As Mr. Whitman began to read out the names, I began to fidget in my seat, sinking lower and lower as each name was read out. I bit my lip harshly, the coppery taste of blood filling my mouth and momentarily distracting me.

"And we have a new student! Class, Elizabeth will be joining us for the rest of this year. Elizabeth, would you please stand up and introduce yourself," Mr. Whitman smiled, his eyes scanning over the room until they landed on my hunched figure in the corner.