When I woke up, the world was quieter. Not silent- just... softer.
I blinked slowly, adjusting to the morning light pouring in through the pale blue curtains. My chest felt tight, my eyes heavy and swollen from crying in my sleep. My body ached, but in a dull, distant kind of way- like the pain had pulled back just enough to let me breathe.
My mom was curled up on the narrow armchair besides my bed, one leg tucked under her, her cheek presses into her palm. Her head tilted slightly towards me, and I could see how uncomfortable she must must have been all night- still in her yesterday's clothes, her hand resting near mine, like she'd been holding it only let go once I'd fallen asleep.
She looked exhausted. Fragile, even. There were dark circles under her eyes, and a faint line between her brows that hadn't been there, that's something new. She started to look like this is a few months ago. When I had an accident, she was also terrible but not this terrible. Is it. Did I cause it. I was busy thinking about myself and did not think about how my mother is doing. Plus, she works overtime. She didn't like to work at night, but now she does. And in that moment, something cracked inside of me. I was being selfish, thinking that am the only one going through a tough time. I'd been shutting her out for almost three years now, hiding behind locked doors, snarling every time she mentioned school, or 'being strong', but looking at her I realised something. She hasn't given up on me. Not once.
I stared at her for a long time. I didn't move. I didn't cry. I just let that feeling settle in my chest- guilt, love, gratitude. And maybe... maybe the tiniest flicker of courage. That evening, after a long day of silence between us, I found her in the kitchen making a lunchbox for herself to take at work. She was ready to go out, without saying anything. I wanted to talk. I wanted to tell her how much I love her and apologise about the way I was behaving, but words got stuck in my throat. She looked at me and said nothing but flashed a warm smile right at me.
After a few weeks of seeing how my mom was, really broke me down. One night, when I went to get water from the kitchen. I caught her crying. This raised my curiosity and guilt at the same time. What was happening, should I go to her and tell her everything is going to be okay. But how when the selfish, ungrateful me doesn't accept the things she does for me. I've been reflecting on my own thoughts, thinking about how full of life I was and the words my mom used to say. Maybe she is right I got to get my life back. And since it's the beginningof the year. It won't hurt right.
Saturday afternoon, I found my mom folding laundry in the living room. She's still at home, thank God probably this is the right time to talk to her about my decision.
"Mom?" I said quietly.
She looked up so fast, it started me. "Yes?"
I hesitated, then took a breath "I... think I want to go back to school."
For a moment she just stared. Her mouth parted, but no sound came out. Then- like the clouds broke- her face lit up with the warmest smile I'd seen in months.
"Are you sure?" she whispered, he eyes glassy.
I nodded slowly. "I'm not saying it's going to be easy. But I don't want to hide forever."
She dropped the shirt in her hands and pulled me into a hug so fast I barely had time to react. Her arms wrapped tightly around me, and I could feel her body shaking slightly as she whispered repeatedly, "Thank you... Thank you, baby..."
By the next day she was already making lists. Fresh notebooks, a backpack, a scarf etc. and I saw a tinted sunscreen. Sunscreen, really where would that sit? In my disfigured face. But she later let me choose everything for myself. She didn't rush me nor push. She just made sure I felt ready. Weeks passed. The day came. My senior year. The final stretch. It's just one year, nothing will go wrong. Or that's what I told myself.
As I walked throught the school gates, it felt like the world pressed pause- like the air itself was thickened and every breath took twice my effort. Everyone stopped what they were doing just to stare at me. Was I too noticeable that it's my first day, that am new after a long time. My footsteps slowed against the pavement and for a moment, I swear even the birds stopped chirping. My heartbeat thundered in my ears like an alarm I couldn't shut off. I couldn't tell if it was fear, or shame, or something in between- but it gripped me so tightly I almost turned back.
But then I pictured my mother. The way she smiled when I said I'd try. The way she folded my scarf carefully the night before, like it was armor. I couldn't disappoint her. Not now. The scarf hugged my face gently. Wrapping around my face only revealing my eyes, they are one of my body parts that's still intact and the same. I adjusted it over and over again making sure that only my eyes showed. The part I wasnt afraid to reveal.
I walked across the courtyard keeping my eyes low, letting them peek just above the fabric. I could feel the stares already- people turning, whispering, pausing mid-sentence. Every step felt like I was walking deeper into a fire. But I didn't stop. I kept my head down not wanting to look at anyone, but their shoes until... CRASH.
My shoulder slammed into someone else's, hard enough to knock my books to the ground. I staggered backward with a gasp, my scarf shifting slightly.
"Oh my God," one of them groaned. "Watch where you're going, freak."
I froze. I know this voice from somewhere.
Oh no! Melissa.
The gang leader of the BGW(Bad Girls Worldwide). The so-called rich princess of the town. Melissa wasn't just rich; she's the kind of girl who walked into a room and made it her kingdom without even trying. Her parents are the untouchable elites, well second untouchable elites as people say. They are polished, powerful, and praised by every adult with something to lose. Her parents are business owners. She wears luxury like second skin- handbags worth more than a semesters tuition and shoes that never touched mud. Her hair always perfect. She has icy blonde hair. Her skin was fair and smooth, with subtle that screamed 'expensive skincare'. Her eyes are piercing blue, like winter frost- clear, sharp. Her nose pointy and delicate. Her lips always glossed with nude or soft pink. Melissa's posture was flawless.
I slowly crouched to pick up my books, trying to pull my scarf back in place without drawing attention. Just as my fingers touched the corner of the notebook, a shiny, pointy, glamour heel landed on top of it- kicking it across the ground.
"Oops," Tasha, one of Melissa's minions snorted, not even pretending it was an accident. "Didn't see that there."
And again Tasha, the daddy's delicate doll. The wolf in sheep clothing. She acts clueless but she's not. That's her power move. People underestimate her- and she liked it that way. It made it easier to twist things around and come out looking innocent. Her pout could win over any teacher, and one sniffle could turn the entire classroom in her favour. At home she is said to be the pampered princess she is. Her father treating her like a fragile crystal. The well so known international doctor, is her dad's occupation. Tasha had long, ash brown hair that she usually tightened with pink ribbons. Her eyes were a soft hazel, round and glimmering, always widened. Her lashes long and curled. Warm- toned skin with a natural blush to her cheeks. She has small, upturned nose.
I froze for a second, watching the pages flutter as my notebook skidded to a stop by the edge of a trash bin.
The trio laughed.
"Wait... mm," Tasha looks down at me.
"Are you a new student here, that doesn't surprise me. I mean look at you. But let me warm you while it's still early. I don't care why you came to this school, so if you know what's good for you, I would stay away from guys in this school, no matter how ugly they are, especially my man," Melissa said and walked away.
What the... Is this girl serious. It's my first day here and all she could think about is a guy. Who is that crazy guy that would date her, probably crazy as her. Birds of the same feature flock together. I hope he regrets it soon. I would be fed-up by just looking at her. I picked up the papers that were scattered on the floor. My papers were bent, smudged, stepped on. I hurried, fingers fumbling, heart thrusting- just as I stuffed the last sheet back inside my folder-
THE SCHOOL BELL RANG.
I flinched. I was late. Panic twisted in my gut. I clutched my papers to my chest and looked around. Nothing looked the same. The school had changed- walls painted, new colors, rooms reshuffled, halls renamed. My memory from middle grade was useless now. I turned a corner, then backtracked. Every classroom number felt out of order. By the time I finally spotted the right room number -3B- my palms were slick with sweat, and my heart had already sunk to the pit of my stomach.
I cracked the classroom door open as I slipped inside, trying to make myself invisible. My hands were trembling slightly as I clutched my books to my chest. I hope- prayed- no one would say anything. But as soon as I stepped through the threshold, the room quieted. Just slightly. Enough for me to feel it. Eyes flicked towards me. Some didn't bother hiding their stares. Then my eyes flew to a particular person, Tasha. Oh no. Why did I have to be in the same class as her. As if that was not enough Charlote was sitting nearby, the last gang member of the BGW. The third row, in the second pair of seats. Seated like they owned the place. I searched for the influencial devil, but she wasn't there, thank God but her shadows were.
There were only three empty chairs left. The tables were joined together to seat in pairs. The first empty seats were in the first row at the back of the class; there was no one sitting on the two joined tables. The third seat was in the middle row, one chair ocuppied by a red- haired guy. Without thinking twice, I rushed to settle there to avoid being stared at only for the guy to shoove the empty chair with his foot, his body language sharp and unmistakable. He didn't look at me, but his message was clear. 'dont sit here'. And the whole classroom busted in laughter. The rejection burned against my skin. I swallowed hard and turned away. Embarrassed, I walked towards the alone, Isolated chairs and sat down, my scarf still in place. I carefully arranged my books on the desk.
The teacher, Ms. Reeves, wasn't old, and she wasn't young either. I didn't know her, but you could tell from the way she looks and dresses. Her beauty wasnt loud not artificial either, her skin soft and warm bronze glow. She had style that was not flashy or trendy but timeless. She wore a blouse that was navy and a gold pendant with black pants that fitted her perfectly, exposing a little of her body shape. Ms. Reeves had a presence. An aura that you don't just notice but also feel.
"You must be the new addition," Ms. Reeves said dryly, adjusting her glasses like she needed a second look. "What's your name."
My voice caught in my throat. I managed to whisper, but raising my voice a little bit so she can hear me because I was sitting in the back. "...A.. Ark."
Ms. Reeves tilted her head, stepping away from the whiteboard. "Speak up."
"Ark," I repeated, a little louder than before. My voice cracked.
"What a weird name," someone said in the class and everyone laughed.
Tasha learner over to whisper something over to Charlote. Charlote turned her face to look at me and shaved me an evil smirk.
Charlote is blunt, dry and less talkative gang member. She is the one with less word but more action. The most scared of in school. She has that piercing aura in her. That I still don't get even now. I heard that her mother is an influencer that left her dad for a rich guy. Sorry for the gossip but I think that says alot about her. He father is a developing boxing couch. She lives with her uncle, which is her mother's brother. And rumor has it that her uncle got his wealth from bribing and killing people. Her uncle is known for making things, people or problems disappear just like that. Charlote is tall and thin, with model- like frame. She has jet- black hair, straight. Skin pale with cool undertone and she wore bold eyeliner that made her grey eyes look colder than they already were. She rarely smiled, but when she did, it was usually sarcastic just like now. She had a sharp jawline, thin lips and a narrow nose.
"Why's her face wrapped like that? Is she going to rob a bank," Charlote blunted.
Like I expected that. That smirk was really about this. Ms. Reeves didn't shut them down. In fact, her eyes lingered on me, then narrowed. "Ark, remove the scarf."
That caught me in suprise, didn't mom explain this to them, shouldn't they know my condition by now. My chest tightened.
"I... I'd rather not."
"Classroom policy is that no headwear or face coverings for religious reasons," Ms. Reeves said, arms folding. "Are you claiming a religious exemption?"
The whole class shifted. Whispering. Watching.
"No," I whispered.
"Then remove it," she snapped.
"She probably thinks she's special," Tasha said, fake coughing into her hand. "What's she hiding under there, a third eye?"
Laughter rippled across the classroom. I stood frozen. I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me. I could feel sweat breaking along my spine.
"She should at least introduce herself properly." Tasha chimed sweetly. " If she's going to be in our class." The same devil that spoke nonsense right now is talking about introducing. Oh, how corning does Tasha think she is.
"Yeah," someone replied. "Show us your face. It's rude otherwise."
Ms. Reeves looked at me like she was waiting-dairing me. I shook my head, voice barely audible. "I'm not ready."
"Then if you're not ready you are disturbing the class. Kindly leave the classroom, you can come when you're ready."
I nearly collapsed into the floor, eyes burning. The laughter was getting worse, some were whispers. I gripped the edge of my chair, nails digging into the wood, and I stared at my desk until the lines were audible.
"What're you waiting for?"
Just when I was about to stand up, a sharp knock on the door. Three precise tabs. The room went silent. The door creaked open and in stepped a man with an almost bald scalp, with little hair on the each side of his head, Principal Darien Vale. He whispered something into Ms. Reeves ear, and she twitched her eyes to look at me shaking her head.
His belly curve softly beneath his neatly pressed white shirt. How jacket unbuttoned, navy blue. His little, graying hair was combed neatly.
"Good morning class," he said, voice steady, calm but sharp. "Ms. Reeves, may I interrupt?"
The teacher blinked. "Principal Vale, I-"
He politely raised his hand to command the teacher to stop talking and looked to me.
"I'm here to clarify something. Miss Wrenley is permitted to wear a scarf or any facial covering. That permission comes from me. There is no need for questions. That is her choice, and her right. Anyone who challenges that, will be speaking to me directly," he added, looking at the teacher.
Tasha's hand twitched as if she wanted to comment. He raised his brows.
"I would keep those hands and questions to myself."
He walked towards the door, he turned and added, "I expect this classroom to be a place of learning. Not judgement."
With that, he left, the door closed clicking shut behind him. The silence he left behind wasn't heavy with fear- but awareness. And a silver of protection I didn't know I needed until it was given.