the girl in red

xiii. ain't it fun

Friday, December 19th, 1975

Lafayette, Indiana

Dimitra quickly found out that school was not her friend.  That notion had finally clicked in her head when she'd walked into room 102, the social studies class, and practically made eye contact with historical figures plastered all over the walls.  None of which she even remotely knew, except for the one with Hitler and Stalin in the back.  She didn't like to look at that one, though.  She frowned and made her way to the back of the room, taking a seat at the first open desk that Jeffrey pointed to.  Luckily enough he was in the class - maybe he could save her from some of her misery.

Only five minutes in, and that hope was shattered.

"Today we'll be talking more about the American Revolution and about some of our founding fathers," Mr. Boyd said from the front of the room, looking around with his ruler in his hand.  "Jessie, can you please choose someone to name the founding fathers."

A girl at the front of the room turned and looked around, holding up her thumb in confirmation.  Multiple kids raised their hands high, some even gripping at their elbows for support as she continued to look.  Her eyes, deep brown and wide, met Dimitra's and she grinned as if an idea had struck her.  Dimitra slunk down in her chair and grimaced, screwing her eyes shut - tight - when the girl finally spoke.

"The new girl in the back.  With the red hair.  We need to make sure she's caught up," the girl, Jessie, said before turning back to face Mr. Boyd, who merely grinned.

"Great idea.  Umm..."

"Dimitra," she croaked out, finally opening her eyes.

"Dimitra!  Can you name all the founding fathers for us?"

The clock seemed to slow, the ticks muddling together with the obnoxious hum of the heater and the squeak of chairs as kids moved around.  The floor seemed to drop from under her, leaving a pitch-black void that pulled at her ankles and made her grip on the desk tighten until her knuckles were bright white - if it was even possible for her skin to get any paler.  She sucked in a breath and finally looked up, her eyes meeting those of Mr. Boyd.  Nearly every student had turned to look at her, their eyes burning deep holes into her skin and tearing at her brain and her throat.  The breath she'd taken suddenly rushed from her body and she finally spoke.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I don't know."

She sucked in another breath, her chest rising high, and screwed her eyes shut as if it would make all the stares stop.  It didn't, and she could feel it.  She could feel them increasing in intensity as gentle whispers fluttered to her ears.  Whether they were a product of her own vile imagination or real, she couldn't yet discern.  She didn't think she wanted to, either.  Either option was undeniably bad - either she was insane or she was getting whispered about.

"You...don't know?"

"I was not raised with the same curriculum as American schools, sir.  We did not learn about America before the start of the Cold War."

"Oh.  Interesting.  Jessie, please call on another person," Mr. Boyd said, his brows pulled together.

Dimitra reached up and dragged her hand over her face, leaning against it.  She posted both her elbows on the desk and rested her chin on them, her fingers splayed across her face and just covering her eyes.  She rubbed them red and sighed, her breath still warm against her muggy skin.  Jeffrey leaned over from the desk to her side and tapped her shoulder gently before leaning back, his eye staying on her as he moved.  She lifted her head and turned to look at him, not attempting to cover the frown etched on her face.