PANIC ROOM • KENJI KON

II. Snape, Snape, Severus Snape

Chapter Two: Snape, Snape, Severus Snape

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Pounding against the door is what woke Eva Rocker up one Wednesday morning. It was the day after her fight, and she had yet to be called to the vice principal's office, but this cruel wake up was all she needed to know that the time was now. She rolled out of bed and to the ground, her leg being caught in her blankets as she tumbled down, colliding with the ground, her leg still in the air.

"Shit, are you okay?" Kai asked from her side of the room. Her voice was thick with sleep, and she sounded like she was already falling back asleep underneath the pounding of the door. "Will you get that?" She mumbled into her pillow.

Eva grumbled as she stood, limping over to the door. Swinging open the heavy door, she came face to face with that week's dorm parent, Mrs. Melendez, a ninth grade maths teacher.

The first thing out of her mouth was an apology about the excessive knocking— which wasn't out of the blue for her (not the apology nor the knocking habit)— and the second was the most polite invitation to Mr. Morrow's office she had ever received.

She was notified of it, he told her, twenty minutes earlier and had walked from the faculty dorms all the way to the student dorms, just to inform her of her appointment. Eva groaned by default: it was way too early in the morning for this.

For someone who refuses to get out of bed any earlier than half an hour before class, it was a damn miracle she had gotten dressed and down to the front office an hour before class was meant to start. Yeah, she wasn't exactly in a good mood for one reason or another.

Mr. Morrow's office was at the end of the hall on the right hand side, directly across from the principal's office, Mr. Berger. The room was an ugly shade of tan, with dark splotches around the window, shaded by thick grey curtains. His desk conquered the better half of the room, with a giant leather chair where he sat, and two chairs that were quite uncomfy opposite his side of the room— Eva had sat in both, and clearly, the taxpayers money was not going into comfortably seatery for students. The desk was as pristine and untouched as usual, probably sterile enough you could perform surgery atop it, or eat a cube of lasagna off the top without fear of contamination. That's how Mr. Morrow's personality came across, too. He was such a neat freak, he became the butt of dozens of students' pranks throughout the years.

Mr. Morrow gestured to the chairs across from him, telling Eva to sit. She took the left chair, crossing her legs as she did so.

"Miss Rocker, you have not been in my office in three weeks," he began. "I was just starting to believe you had sobered up from your troublemaking ways."

Subconsciously, she tapped her chest, feeling the juul hidden inside her sports bra.

"I cannot say I'm surprised you've returned, in a fight, no less."

"I—" Mr. Morrow held up his hand, and Eva instantly stopped talking.

He faced his computer, and began typing as he talked. "I have already talked to Miss Donovan, and she is being taken care of. Now for you."

Eva held her breath, fiddling with a loose thread that was coming off the belt loop of her jeans.

Here she was, getting in trouble for a fight she didn't start, all because a girl got jealous. Distrust runs deep in Jayla's veins— in her boyfriend above all else.