Short Passages

The Worst School Day Ever!

There is always at least one day that is labelled the WORST SCHOOL DAY EVER for everyone, in which they feel as though they were slowly decaying on the inside. It's that feeling you get⏤the one where you feel like everything is turning out the exact opposite to the way you would wish for events to turn out. A day that is so inexplicably terrible, you wonder what you have ever done to deserve such cruel treatment. Well, my miserable recount might make your bad days seem almost magical.

My first class was Art, and so there was a bundle of excitement as I pondered on what we'd do this class. But it wasn't the subject alone that had a grin plastered on my face. Ms Levar was probably everyone's favourite teacher. With her springy blonde curls a mess around her smiling face, her ocean eyes shining as she captured us in one of her favourite heart-melting stories, her cheeks dusted rosy pink on her clear pale skin tone, and flecks of coloured paint always decorating her clothes, hands and occasionally her face. She had one of those bubbly personalities and pureness in her heart that outshined even the sun. She'd walk through the door always late, apologise profusely before hurrying us to grab the appropriate materials without telling us what we were about to do.

But the adult who walked through the door wasn't late. Those blue eyes weren't shimmering, instead they were pools of darkness and steel. Looking like they pierce through you and see into your very soul. That man certainly wasn't Ms Levar. His figure tall, raven hair groomed back in perfection, lips pressed together in a thin white line. Under his arm was a stack of neat folders, and a stick. He walked in with purpose, each step making a solid clicking sound throughout the room. He didn't spare a glance at the students who stilled as they watched him drop his folders onto the table with a loud thud, silence stiff though hard as it travelled through the classroom.

A trembling, unsure voice spoke on top of the silence. "Um, sir? Are you sure you're in the right⏤"

"Silence." The brave boy clamped his mouth shut, now looking like he was scared for his life. "Did I ask you to talk?"

Not risking his words, the poor boy shook his head, visibly shaking under the man's pointed gaze. The man only picked up a black marker and moved to write on the whiteboard.

"Class, my name is Mr Placid." He proceeded to write his name in perfect calligraphy on the whiteboard with a black marker, it's suffering squeaks sounding loud in the silence of the room. "I will be taking over today as Ms Levar is sick." He spat out the word sick as though it couldn't be said any other way. Everyone seemed to turn statuesque when the right teacher's name fell from his lips. Oblivious to our reaction, he continued on in his low voice that seemed to demand authority. "We will be doing a test, separate the desks and yourselves. Test conditions now apply."

A test? We never had tests, outside the ones that the school made sure we completed. But even then, Ms Levar had well-prepared us for them. This test, we never had coming.

Instinctively, I rose my hand. "Sir."

It was only after the word left my mouth, when I realised what I was doing. Instantly regretting my actions. But it was too late to take it back when he turned his steely gaze to me, and lingered.

I forced on a confident facade and pushed the words out, trying and failing to keep in the small trembles rocking my body. His eyes... there was not the slightest hint of warmth in those cold, icy eyes. "With all due respect, Sir, Ms Levar hasn't notified us of any more tests."

"That's because this is a test I've organised myself." I could've imagined that tint of annoyance that laid in his tone. His face remained a calm cold, a sort of icy fire burning around him and stifling the oxygen of the room.