The ways we lost him(completed)

Chapter 17

Our guidance councilor stood at the front of the room, her hands clasped tightly together as she grinned at us. I felt my nerves spike up as she zoomed in on me.

"Dalia! My favorite student, such a quiet girl!" My face went red as I heard people snicker behind me. I looked down at my desk hoping she'd ignore me. She didn't.

"What year are you in now, my dear?" She questioned and I looked up, my eyes wide with fear, almost pleading her, yet she grinned back in ignorance.

"Final year."

She clapped her hands enthusiastically. "Yes! Of course, which means in three months you will all be braving final exams and then, off to college!"

I sighed in relief as she finally took her eyes off of me. But it only got worse from there.

"Come here child." She motioned me up towards the front of the class. I looked at her in shock, deciding maybe if I pretended I couldn't hear her she would pick someone new.

No luck. Her steely gaze was directed at me, with a burning resistance. She wasn't going to give up either. I pondered over why it seemed like she enjoyed making me panic.

Begrudgingly I got out of my seat and walked to the front of the class. I was slouched down, my eyes trained on the tainted tiled floors in front of me. They were once new and sleek but had been stained over age, a dark hazy brown.

"Okay!" She exclaimed as I stood beside her, jumping back as she almost yelled in my ear. I heard the echo of laughter fill the class and I knew I had caused it. I wished the ground would swallow me up, or rather that I had stayed home today. I wouldn't face this kind of thing if I had. I'd still be engulfed in darkness and wrapped in blanket, listening to the outside world in a blur outside my window. I could've watched Netflix, and eaten rice cakes, yet I was here subjected to this.

Wasn't there an unspoken rule for teachers, not to pick out your quiet students? Where did that apply then? Not here, it seemed. I could see the English teacher skeptically eying us from the corner of my view.

"Dalia's been in your class for how long, almost six years?"

"What's this about?" A guy called from the back of the room, his blond hair in a tousled mess on his head.

She snapped her fingers. "What can you tell me about her?"

I felt my chest began to close, cutting off my supply of oxygen, yet this worried me less than the words coming from her mouth. The awkward silence that followed was excruciating and I wondered if this was the twisted point she was trying to make.

"She likes books, and old CDs from the fifty's. " Luka's response came, as she gave me a reassuring smile from the front of the row.

"And she obviously has reasons to detest you. Oh and she likes dogs, she has one called cat."

The blond guy snapped forward.

"You called your dog 'cat?'"

Angie whirled around a grin on her face, "that's the most interesting thing you've picked up from this class?"

He shrugged in nonchalance. "Now I'm intrigued."

The guidance counselor grinned happily. "Okay now that I've identified her friends, you two are not allowed to answer. Now the rest of you, what do you know about Dalia?"

"She likes to give her pets weird names." Came his awaited response. It met a dead stare and he let out a small awkward laugh.

The silence I had been fearing followed. I slowly raised my eyes to meet those of my class, piercing and staring right at me, right through me. It was as if I was an exhibit in a museum, or not there at all. I cringed, as my vision began to sway gradually, color filling my vision.