Matilda's life had turned into a nightmare when she realized that no one else had seen the handsome boy she had been seeing every day for years. He always dressed in black, and she soon discovered that his family, school, and friends were not who he...
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Part 13: CONFESSION
"What are we going to do with this?"
I stared at the whole chicken lying in front of me, flanked by sharp cleavers arranged in order of size from smallest to largest. The girl sitting beside me looked at me and then slapped the chicken's rear with a laugh.
"We're going to chop and cook it," she said, fiddling with the organs of the chicken in front of her. Her finger entered one end of the animal and came out the other. I crinkled my nose.
"Why are we doing this? Are the students the ones who cook?" I asked, watching as she gently wiped her white hands with a wet wipe.
"Of course not," she said, locking her green eyes with mine. Her hands were white, but her face had a bronze hue. Like me, she had her hair done in a ballet bun. There was no trace of makeup on her face, or if there was, I couldn't distinguish it.
"We're taking this class to learn what we can do in tough times, including cutting and cooking chicken," she said, grinning at the chicken in front of me.
"By the way, my name is Flora," she said, extending her hand to me.
For a moment, I remembered where her hand had just been and thought that a mere wipe with a wet wipe didn't seem very hygienic. Trying to smile politely, I did not shake her hand.
"Camellia, I don't think a wet wipe is sufficient for hygiene," I said, pointing to her hanging hand.
"Yes, you're right," she said, retracting her hand.
"Hard Times," that was the name of the class. Our teacher was a short, plump woman with curly hair. She had been yelling at us and had been showing for twenty minutes how to cut the chicken.
"Does that cleaver suit you?" she yelled, making me jump. When I turned my eyes to Ms. Lamb, I saw her small eyes on me. As my gaze drifted to the large cleaver in my hand, I slowly set it aside. By then, Ms. Lamb had come to my side.
"Camellia, try the smaller one," she said, and I looked at Ms. Lamb dumbfounded.
"Sorry, okay," I said, taking a smaller cleaver and continuing to dissect my chicken.
When the class finally ended, I rushed into the lavishly furnished girls' restroom. Flora was with me. After washing and rinsing my hands for who knows how many times, I dried them with a paper towel.
"Do you want to put on some lipstick?" Flora asked, applying her dark brown, nude lipstick to her lips.
"I'm good, thanks," I said, shrugging my shoulders.
While she continued applying her lipstick, I noticed in the mirror that the eyes gathered there were turning to me. The girls were looking at me strangely, and I couldn't understand the anger in their eyes.
