Children of the Elements

Chapter 2-Why Does This Interview Feel Like an Interogation?

Principal Browner's office is small. Like, closet small. For a rich school with a buttload of gifted students, you'd think they have the funding to get bigger offices.

I'm ninety percent sure that Principal Browner's office was a storage closet at some point. It even smells like cleaning supplies.

There are three chairs in front of her desk, and so closely pressed together that I doubt an ant could squeeze it's way through them without getting crushed.

My knees pushed against the front of Principal Browner's desk, which was pretty much the size of a nightstand. Behind that was a swivel chair, and how it fit there, I had absolutely no idea. It didn't even look capable of swiveling around very much, considering how tightly it was pressed against the back wall.

The dim light wasn't comforting either, with a simple lightbulb on the ceiling. It cast deep shadows across the room, and the shadows were so thick I wondered if I could reach out and feel one.

I must've been to caught up in thinking about the office's layout that I missed a question, because Alesha, perched in the chair on my left, nudged me in the shoulder.

I blinked a couple times and asked in a tone that could be described as rude, "What?"

Principal Browner raised one dark eyebrow at my confusion and I watched, weirdly fascinated, as her eyebrow almost reached her hairline.

I didn't know that was possible.

I repeated my question when the principal didn't say anything. "What?"

She pursed her blood-red lips. Judging by how dark her hair is, how pale her skin is, and how her lips are tinted a color you could only say looked like blood, I had the fleeting thought that my new principal was a vampire.

She adjusted the severe bun that was stretched so tight, her eyes lifted up slightly, and said in a slow, even-though-you're-in-a-gifted-school-you're-so-stupid voice, "are you looking forward to going to Seattle Academy of the Gifted?"

I gritted my teeth. "Yes Principal Browner. I am very much looking forward to attending SAG tomorrow. Thank you for the opportunity to educate myself in this fine establishment." I tried to respond in my most passive-aggressive voice.

Luckily, Browner didn't seem to catch it and did a funny snarl thing with her mouth that looked like she was trying to smile.

I wasn't as fortunate with Nick and Alesha, though. From my right, Nick kicked my foot under the desk, and to my left, Alesha shot me a warning look.

I sighed.

Why do I have to go to this stupid school anyway?

A little voice in my head chimed in, "because the state of Washington requires you to, duh."

Why does my little brain-voice have to be so logical?

"Miss Cabrera. Are you feeling okay?" Browner asked, but from the disinterest laced into her words, she didn't seem to care if I was throwing up all over her desk. She might've even welcomed it to have an excuse to get a new one. Either way, I must've pulled a sour face thinking about this school I'm forced to attend, that's why she asked.

I attempted a smile. "Just peachy, thanks for asking."

But to be honest, I was getting a little agitated. This room is so small, with minimal light, a scary lady sitting three feet in front of me. The shadows seemed darker. They stretched out, almost like they were reaching towards me.

I jiggled my leg nervously and pulled a pencil out of my pocket.

Nick and Alesha glanced knowingly at me. They know I get anxious and they know how I act in the beginning of an anxiety attack.

I looked up at the plaster ceiling, twirling my pencil through my hand. It weaves in and out of my left hand, thumb all the way to pinky. And bring it back.

Over and over.

Faster and faster.

Spiraling. The questions keep coming. The words keep going through my head. Quicker then I can fully acknowledge each one individually.

I'm powerless. Thinking to much and not thinking at all.

Nick and Alesha make some excuse to conclude the interview but I don't hear it. I faintly register that they are talking to me, guiding me outside the school. I know I'm moving, but I don't feel it. 

All I see are the shadows. Thrusting toward me, stretching and writhing. Angling toward me, so solid and close they're almost tangible.

Alesha quickly thrusts the door open and light pours in. Warm, afternoon sky. The shadows slink back to the walls as I bask in the sunlight.

This was a little longer of a chapter! Yay! Hope you enjoyed it even though I doubt anyone is actually reading my book! Oh well, that's ok. Please leave comments if I make a grammar mistake or something and vote if you like it! Have a good morning/afternoon/evening/night!
                                         —Grace