That's Progress

Wednesday, September 30th 2018

I slumped down on the chair, it letting out a creek as I pushed my whole weight against it. It was only Thursday and yet I was so ready for the weekend, despite the work that it would obviously entail for me.

A boy walked past, his bag hitting me in the face. A shrill of laughter echoed around the supprisingly empty room as he noticed the shock it had caused me. The nameless figure turned to his friends, pointing at me and re-enacting the situation. One stood up and began to walk to me but quickly darted back as our teacher entered the room. I looked unfazed by the situation that would usually disconcert so many, but I felt nothing. I was just resigned.

I pulled my book from my bag, slamming it down on the table, but not before a small slither of white paper could flutter to the floor. I picked it up, well aware of what it would say.

'7 am tomorrow. Behind the sports hall.'

Any other girl in the school would be thrilled to have a note like this fall out of their chemistry book. Not me, however. For me, it was just another day on the job.
I didn't recognise the cursive handwriting danced across the paper and I found myself scanning the room, guessing the person it could belong to. I turned my head to the back of the room, my eyes dancing across the potential suspects until I felt the burning stare of my chemistry teacher on the back of my head. Slowly, I swiveled my head back around, never daring to meet his eye.

Female, I assumed by the intricacy of the lettering, and definitely not one of my usual clients: too neat, almost as if they had being debating over it for a while. That was always nice: to see a new face. The new ones always held the biggest secrets. I smiled to myself, folding the paper in half and stuffing it into my bag because it could raise the attention of anyone else.

I massaged my temples, tipping my head backwards in the process. At least I knew that tomorrow would be exciting.