Red Hair, Black Soul (Red & Black #1)

11 | Doomed

On Monday, I don't see Makena, nor Jed. I don't share any lessons with any of them, which is a relief. I'm not sure I'm ready to face the two after my little performance on Friday. I'm positive that once they see me, they're going to ask questions. People always react this way when they get to know I like music. Ms. Brownstone badgered me for a week after she got to know I used to play the piano. She tried hard to get me to play something to her. Once she even came to our meeting with a portable keyboard and tried to coax me into playing something. I had to cause a small scene to make her understand my adventure with music is over.

And I bet that once they had heard me sing, it's going to be hard to convince them about it.

It's also my Mum's first day at work. I don't really see her throughout the day, and even if I do, I pretend that I don't. Fortunately, due to our lack of resemblance, no one has figured out she's my Mum yet. The only things connecting us are the golden colour of our eyes and our impossible to spell surname. I guess it's only a matter of time before someone connects the dots and nails us, but the later, the better. Being the teacher's kid is never kindly looked upon. I guess in high school it's even worse. And the last thing I want is to be referred as the Biology teacher's daughter who tried to kill a student on her first day. I'd rather be called Red or a Carrot, thank you very much.

As to my Monday meeting with Ms. Brownstone, it's quite uneventful. Not that normally it's filled with bomb explosions and extra effects. But since nothing exciting has happened since the last time I saw her, I don't have much to tell her. We talk about my first week at school and my feelings about it. She asks me if I've made some friends, and I tell her about Makena. I don't mention Jed's topic and leave him nameless when she asks about the 'boy I pushed down the stairs'. She's not angry with me for not coming here last Thursday. When I tell her I went for a coffee with a friend instead, she nearly beams with joy. I guess she's happy to have a new topic to dwell on. I bet that from now on, the next topic after: How are you? is going to be: How is Makena? I won't be surprised if one day, she asks me to take her with me to the next meeting so that she can meet the person who's managed to befriend me. A reminder photo of us included.

That's why I don't say a word about ditching with Jed or him bringing me coffee. If she reacts this strongly to the news about me finding a female friend, I'm afraid she would pass out if I told her I actually conversed with a male who wasn't my brother or father. And it's not like I'm planning on forming any kind of relation other that the compulsory meetings at the Wednesdays World Literature classes, so what's the point.

Speaking of the World Literature class...

Tuesday comes and goes and before I know it, I'm faced with the necessity to attend Mrs. Scottinson's lesson again. I enter the classroom early, taking the seat in the penultimate row. I don't like sitting in the very back since I noticed the teachers tend to pay an extra attention to the occupants of the furthest desks. The ones in the middle don't get noticed so much. Keeping my head down, I busy myself with doodling in my notebook. With relief, I notice both seats on my left and right being occupied by people other than the last time. That means there's a slight chance that I won't have to interact with Makena or Jed if I bolt out of the classroom fast enough. A strange mix of relief and grief sparks up inside me. I'm not eager on talking to Makena after Friday, but on the other hand, I kind of missed her. I haven't seen her for five days now, and I lacked her cheerful presence. It's strange how soon a loner like me can get used to the company of another person. It's a feeling I'm not used to and it makes me feel insecure.

I'm so lost in my thoughts that I almost miss the bell. As usual, Ms. Scottinson doesn't appear in the classroom right away, so I go back to my doodles. Only this time, I raise my head a little and scan the classroom discretely. There's no sight of Jed or Makena in front of me and I'm not brave enough to turn around. I'm halfway done with my drawing of a very surrealistic parody of my brother when the door to the classroom slam shut, followed by Mrs. Scottinson's voice.