Fictional Story |
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I waited there, outside the Staff Room. I stood not far from the door, whistling a soft tune while looking around aimlessly. This was meant to be misleading. I had an aim. There was a question that had been bothering me for months. Now I was searching for the answer. I looked at my watch. Six fifty-three a.m.. It was almost time. From the direction of the car park came the first one, walking along at a relaxed pace. He swung his arms as he walked, and I could swear that he was doing it deliberately. The tension in his muscles was evident, if you knew what to look for. Every movement he made was a calculated attempt to seem normal, an attempt to hide the way he truly felt. As he approached, I greeted him, wondering what his response would be. "Good morning, Mr Turner." "Morning," he said. Again, I could sense a stiff, agitated undertone to his voice. Although this could have been because of his slight Scottish accent, I doubted this was so. He made a feeble attempt to smile, and ended up baring his teeth at me, as if in anger. "Aren't you supposed to be in your Form Room?" He was trying to steer me away, trying to empty out the area, so he and his kind could perform the tasks that they normally did at this time of the day. I recounted my well-prepared excuse. Apparently, my English teacher had wanted to see me first thing in the morning, something about an overdue coursework essay. Again I waited for his reaction. He did a good job of concealing his surprise, but I knew. I knew that he was wondering why a Teacher would invite someone there, at that time. More of them came. Some greeted me, while others just glared. All of them seemed to be irritated by my presence. So, at precisely six fifty-five, I gave them the pleasure of seeing me leave. Except that I didn't leave. I walked around the French room, and stood on the other side. The windows were covered, and that was both a blessing and a curse. Although I wanted to see what they were doing, I was glad that they couldn't see me. Lord only knows what they would do to me if they found out that I knew. Five minutes later, I had my confirmation. Something strange was happening inside there. I rushed to my Form Room, not sure if I really wanted to know what it was. * * * At first break, I overheard two of them talking. On my way to the English classrooms, I was stopped in my tracks by a single sentence, uttered just loud enough for me to hear. "How did it go this morning?" I turned my head slowly, and saw two Teachers, with their backs turned towards me. They sat under the shaded smoking area, one of them sipping a cup of coffee while the other held a cigarette in her hand. "I was late, you see, and missed it." "Ah. I wondered where you were - you really should have tried to make it on time. Anyway, it went quite smoothly. We are certainly getting better at it." A brief pause, and then, "I worry sometimes." "Yes. We all do, but it has to be done if we want to reap the benefits." "True, true. But don't you think that the students might wonder, and they might find out?" "We have to avoid that, at all costs. Such things are not meant to be known by them." "Yes. Of course." I almost laughed to myself there. They called this avoiding it at all costs? They were being about as secretive as an advertising campaign. Anyone could have heard that conversation, and found out their secret. And then she got up, turned around, and looked right into my eyes. At that moment I wished I never found out about their secret, I wished I was living a normal, ignorant life. I wanted to turn away, but I couldn't break the eye contact. And then she smiled, and a cloud of smoke emerged from her mouth. It rose slowly, and rather than being dispersed by the gentle breeze, I could swear the smoke particles were moving together, forming up into some kind of sign. A few seconds later, it was quite clear. A thin, wispy, skeletal face, with two large, hollow eyes. The spell was broken, and I was able to turn around and look at my watch. I was late for maths. * * * Three days later, I was seated at the round table inside the Principal's office. Mr. Taylor was there, and so were two other teachers. They looked at me, not so much angry as disgusted, as if what I had done was not only illegal but immoral as well. "It has come to my attention that you have being using the school computers to post information on the Internet, information that is most certainly untrue, and is harmful to this school's reputation. This is in clear conflict with the Protection of Places of Education Act of 1977, which states that one must not create 'propaganda that may discredit a school in the eyes of possible donors and/or clients'. Have you anything to say in your defence?" I had never heard of this 'Protection of Places of Education Act', but I decided to remain silent. "No, I do not." "Then it has been decided, by myself and the deputy heads of the school, that you will receive a suspension. You will not be permitted to enter the school premises at any time of day, for any reason, for the next two weeks." I stood up, pushed my chair in, and walked out. Part of me was pleased that I hadn't received anything harsher, but part of me still yearned for a chance to find out the truth. I knew that I would be unable to continue watching them, because they knew about me. The suspension was just a warning, a message that said, "We know that you know something, and we don't want you to know more." As I walked out of the room, I heard them laughing. AUTHOR'S NOTE: Based on a true event... |