As soon as I sat, I heard Brian and Clavin’s names called over the loud speakers. Behind me, someone whispered ‘snitch’. Did all the students know what happened? Could my day get worse? Probably.
At the end of each class, I turned in my textbook along with any homework and explained that I wouldn’t be back. Some of the teachers glanced at my face sympathetically before nodding and taking the books. I figured word had spread through the faculty regarding the reason behind my abrupt departure. Although the students seemed to side with Clavin and Brian’s actions, the faculty did not. Neither of their lives wouldn’t be the same here.
My stomach began rumbling during third hour. When the lunch bell finally sounded, I sighed. I never got to eat dinner the night before and in my rush to leave the house, I’d forgotten to eat breakfast.
Ignoring the stares in the hallway, I headed toward the cafeteria noting the presence of additional teachers. Bodyguards. Nice.
In line, I piled on as much food as they would let me. Being poor meant I didn’t need to worry about paying, but they still limited me on what I could take. The sympathetic lunch ladies didn’t stick to the rules today though. A bruised face earned me a double scoop of mashed potatoes.
With a laden tray, I made my way through the sea of filling tables. Conversation quieted as I neared some tables and escalated again after I passed.
Close to the table where I usually sat, I saw Brian and Clavin unobtrusively speaking to a group of girls. Their gazes darted my direction, but they didn’t move to approach me.
Before I could decide what to do, Mr. Jameson approached me. He had a tray of food in his hands as well. “Mind if I sit with you?” he asked.
Sit with the principal or risk more Brian and Clavin quality time. I really didn’t have much of a choice.
“Not at all,” I answered quickly.
Together we walked the rest of the way to the table. The table of isolation. No one approached us the entire lunch while I thoroughly enjoyed my food.
Mr. Jameson kept a light one-sided conversation going. He didn’t mention ‘the incident’ nor did he ask to which school would be transferring. He rambled on about his love of winter and snow. I appreciated his effort, since his presence allowed me to eat in safety, and nodded or made non-committal noises when needed.
As I forked the last bite into my mouth, his demeanor changed. He stopped talking and just watched me, his expression hard to read. I glanced around us looking for what may have caused the change. Most of the other students had finished eating and left the cafeteria, including Brian and Clavin. Everything seemed normal to me.
Curious, I glanced back at him. “Is there a problem Mr. Jameson?”
He didn’t immediately answer me. Instead, he reached across the table and lightly touched my bruise, shocking me.
Before I could react, he asked, “Who did this?”
I froze, cold spreading through me on the tail of dread. I’d talked to him about what had happened in detail just a few hours ago. But his sudden memory lapse didn’t concern me. His voice did. It softly echoed as he spoke sounding as if two people said the same words at the same time. One was Mr. Jameson’s voice. The other was deeper, quieter. And it didn’t belong.
His finger stroked my bruised flesh once more, without inflicting pain, before he withdrew his hand. I stared at him, not knowing what to do. First, some kind of phantom monster chases me and now my principal is talking as if he’d possessed. Unrelated? Definitely not. I thought daylight provided safety.
Opening my mouth to ask who I was talking to, my English teacher interrupted me. She approached the table with a rapid lick of her heels on the tiled floor her eyes on Mr. Jameson. She frowned at him several long moments before addressing me.
“I’ll walk you to class, Tessa.”
I kept my eyes on Mr. Jameson as I stood so I didn’t miss the change. He seemed to deflate ever so slightly his shoulders tilting forward in a minute hunch. Then he blinked twice and looked down at his food as if lost in thought. I didn’t hesitate. I fled with my English teacher.
For the rest of the day, I watched everyone around me. I knew my peers perceived my actions as weirder than normal, but I couldn’t help it.
Something had taken over Mr. Jameson for a minute. If not for his voice, I never would have known the difference. Its ability scared me. It could be anywhere, in anyone. But what did it want? Other than to know who bruised my face... And why did it care? Why had it chased me last night?
Thinking over what Gran said on the way to school, none of this made any sense. Why did we need to hide from it at night if it could find us during the day?
Uncertain, I watched and I listened. I didn’t see or hear it. But I did run into Clavin again.