You know that feeling when the world seems to stop and it's just you? Like everyone else is invisible but you? Or like no one really exists except for you?
Yeah, well I'm not feeling it. What I do feel are a hundred pair of eyes on me as I fly into the air. I'm not exactly flying but there is no way in hell my feet are on the ground.
I watch everything unfold in slow motion. A kid from a table stands up and points at me, Aaron Friar grins evilly, his friend holds his phone up, that crazy bird—Jeffery—flys into the window again, the geniuses shake their heads like they had seen it coming and Mr Henry bites his finger instead of his sandwich.
I shut my eyes and wait for the most embarrassing moment of my life to happen, which really sucks because I can't stop it from happening now, even trying to beg the universe is useless but I do it anyway.
Don't let me fall. Make everyone blind. Make them look away. If I'm going to fall than please land gracefully. Please land gracefully. Please.
But nothing comes to save me and I don't land gracefully at all.
No. I land on the large white tiles on my back, the air knocked out of my lungs and I groan. I've felt way worse than the stinging coming from my back, but the pain is still terrible and the back of my head feels like someone's just hit me with a frying pan. And then, when I think nothing can possibly make this worse, I remember the tray that was definitely floating above me. Assoon as I think of that, the sloppy but delicious pasta lands on my face like a bunch of worms in mud.
My mind goes blank. Like seriously blank. I start questioning if that really happened. I mean, maybe I'm daydreaming. I must be. This only happens in those stupid movies teenagers watch, not in real life. Wait, what if this isn't real life? Holy—did I snap my neck when I landed?
Damnit.
Suddenly the growing need for air builds up inside and relief consumes me. I'm not dead. Oh thank you god.
Lifting my hand, I brush off the pasta, feeling the oil of the red sauce on my hands and sit up, gasping for air.
It takes a second for me to realise that I'm being watched and then my eyes widen and there is nothing I want to do more than hide my face in my sweater and pray for the ground to just swallow me whole.
The cafeteria is quiet for two seconds straight, and then the thunder. Everyone is watching me and almost everyone is laughing.
My face burns up.
The humiliation is worse than the time I peed myself while doing the pain progression test in front of seven scientists. At least they understood why because I was fourteen and the sudden change from mild pain to excruciating in three seconds was bound to evoke something.
I bring my eyes up to see the freshman who I'm sure is the owner of the plate of pasta. The pasta sauce itself feels like gloss on my skin and not the nice kind. Eww.
I thought he would've been embarrassed or ashamed for causing the trouble, but what I didn't expect was to find him laughing.
"Oh god." He wheezes, "y-you okay there?" He asks, his eyes tearing up and voice sounding anything but apologetic.
It takes effort to resist glaring at him.
Well what do you think?
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Pretty Pheonix
Teen FictionBlair Justice, aka Agent Pheonix, had only known one home all her life, which coincidentally happened to be the most secret intelligence agency in the world. Life was good for Pheonix, no scratch that - life was fricking great. She travelled underco...
