The Other Hailey

2| a thing called identity

    "We have a new student here, it would be nice if you all took a moment to welcome her. Hailey Marshall?"

No, not this, please.

Okay, it's not what it looks like. I'm not a shy person. I can walk up to the front of the class and give a speech, or a presentation. But this is different. There's something just wrong with the students at Brick Way High, considering the fact that I've been receiving death stares —vengeful, red eyes, literally— from every corner I turn. It's honestly flabbergasting. I mean, what did I do?

Despite being called up by the plump, middle-aged teacher in front, I stay in my seat. My fingers subconsciously start to drum on the edge of my desk. Even the warm sunshine streaming in through the classroom windows does nothing to calm me down.

With "Hailey Marshall's" silence, the whole class quiets down, waiting for the "new girl" to introduce herself. And with that silence, I grow more anxious. Suddenly, the only thing I can hear is the calm breeze moving the trees planted in the school's garden, and the squirrels jumping from one branch to another.

"Hailey Marshall?" The teacher peers through her glasses as she scans the faces seated in front of her.

She's probably not going to stop until I stand up. Gripping my pencil in one hand, I slowly get up to my feet, and all heads turn in my direction, worse, glares. People's faces turn into pure disgust the moment they set eyes on me. Despite this, I swallow and speak up.

"Hello. I'm Hailey Marshall..." I pause to think. "And it's nice to be here."

Snickers and chuckles reverberate through the room.

"Mrs. Sanders, are you really going to let her do this?" A boy says from behind me.

"Yeah, I mean she's clearly supposed to be in a psychiatric hospital at this point." Another says few seconds later.

"Like the hell? What's wrong with this girl? Coming to school, acting like a different person?"

Noticing the horrid look on my face, the teacher quickly speaks up. "Quiet down everyone, and flip your textbooks to page 43, we begin the class now." She looks to me, pulling her lips into a smile. "You can have your seat, Hailey."

The moment my bum connects with the wooden chair, my knee starts to jerk.

What the hell just happened?

My anxiety is through the roof after that small interaction, and no number of exhales and inhales are enough to stop the consistent jerking of my knee. I find it hard to concentrate in class as an hour pass, and I barely hear the bell when it rings. Sighing when I look down at my book which has nothing written on it, I slowly start to get up. Slowly, because I want everyone to leave before I do. I cannot face them after that embarrassing, weird introduction.

The class empties under six seconds, and with one last glance at the teacher, I strap on my backpack, scurrying out the door before she gets the chance to stop me.

Once I reach the hallways, I frantically start searching my pocket for my phone. I need to call someone, because I don't feel safe in here. It's like I'm trapped in one of those psychological thrillers, where the main character slowly loses their mind until the very last moment when they die. And at this rate, I'm sure I'm headed for a plot twist where a teacher stabs me to death.