Chapter 7

Students shuffled sluggishly along the hallway, glued to the wall as they slowly filtered into the music room, intermingling conversation flowing through the cool air. Lorelai hung beside Lenore, sipping on a coffee as she scrolled through her phone, while the werewolf played with the straps of her backpack.

An early morning chill clung to the corners of the music room, voices echoing from the high ceilings, while sunlight cast patterns on the rich floors filtering in from the floor to ceiling windows. Lenore looked for a seat; Lorelai only glanced up from her phone to follow her towards the front as most seats had been taken.

As Lenore slumped down, she dumped her dark backpack between her legs, students whispered to another, and shuffled away from her, only a couple didn’t move away, but even they shifted nervously. Lenore scratched at her hands and crossed her arms over her chest weakly as she tried to sink into her chair.

“Ignore them.” Lorelai whispered in her ear, offering her a soft smile, which wavered at the edges, before glaring at the people whispering about Lenore. Her subtly shaking hand came to brush Lenore’s, but it didn’t stay long, just a comforting graze.

Ms Capri pushed off her desk, and took centre stage, hands clasped in her lap, thoughtlessly fiddling with the rings on her fingers. “Today…” she began, and Lenore found herself leaning forward before could think. “We’re going to learn about music beyond the mechanical processes. We will learn how it can bewitch the mind.” She spoke firmly, resolve echoing from the corners of the hall. “I’m going to a play piece for you; we’ll discuss it afterwards.”

She cinched her skirt up, before gracefully settling down by the piano. Her back stood straight, and fingers lay lightly on the keys. She breathed in deeply; it was muted, but Lenore heard it closely, like it could’ve been feathering against her neck. Her jaw tightened. Ms Capri’s fingers pressed down on the keys, focusing blindly on them.

Lenore’s fingers bleached, wrapping tightly around the blunt underside of the chair. The sounds which played around her, the faint whispers, roar of autumnal wind, shift of chairs; they all fell away. She stared at her teacher, focusing purely on the rich tones which sung from the piano, laced by a mournful echo which resonated even once the notes had fallen silent in the air.

It seemed to slink through her ears.

An emptiness hollowed Lenore’s chest, watching as her teacher peeled back her defences, allowing an immovable sense of grief to fill the air. It took her over, but even then, she couldn’t pull her eyes away. Her grip tightened further.

The notes grew faster, harder and Miss Capri moved with them, features tightening, leaning forward, and back with each press of the monochromatic keys. It grew wilder, but even then, it failed to be messy. It rapidly twisted upwards, ascending towards its crescendo, which began with a jarring slam of the keys. It grew deeper, each note wavering, and hung trembling in the air, fading out only be replaced again. It seemed to wrap around Lenore’s very bones.

Then, it slipped away into silence, and everyone sat quietly, entranced beyond words, before moments later, Lenore broke it. Her bandages hands clapped together, staring solemnly at Ms Capri, and Lorelai followed suit, then so did everyone else.

Applause roared through the hall.

Miss Capri looked down at her hands, laughing softly, almost shyly—a breathless sound, which puffed past her lips. “Thank you.” She rose, again taking centre stage. “Now, can anyone tell me what that meant, what I was trying to get across?”

An awkward silence, strung with tension, filled the room; Miss Capri’s expression faltered subtly, and she swallowed harshly. Lenore’s stomach sunk. As the teacher opened her mouth to speak, she beat her to it. “Grief.” She responded, and her voice carried the heaviness of understanding.

Ms Capri smiled and gestured to Lenore. “Yes, very good Miss Yuson.” Lenore’s chest swelled with pride, and her face grew hot. “Could you elaborate?”

“Um, sure… it felt like yearning, a desperate attempt to catch something you used to have.” She explained, and the teacher’s eyebrows rose in surprised, lips parted, before nodding. “Succinct…”

After Lenore’s response, a heated conversation flared into life, an argument of overlapped voices, which called out answers in an illegible cacophony, ideas, theories which furthered Lenore’s answer. Miss Capri was quick, keeping the debate tempered but fuelled in equal measure.

“Very good everyone, but we can pick this up later, but for now, I want to hear someone play. Now, it doesn’t matter if you’re a modern Beethoven, or not. I just want to hear it.” She said, and the room fell silent quicker than you could blink. As Ms Capri paced around, everyone avoided her eyes, until she came to the head of the hall, where an unlucky student accidently met her eye.

It was a girl sat beside Lenore, one of the few who hadn’t shifted away, and her expression took on alarm as Miss Capri moved to gesture her up. Lenore’s chair scraped against the floor. She stood stiffly, tall, and silence hung tightly in the air between them.

“Yeah. I’ll play.” She said. The student beside her mouthed, ‘thank you.’ It earned a tilted look from Miss Capri, who gestured for Lenore to follow her towards the piano.

Her heartrate ran in her ears, thudding loudly in her chest as she grew closer to the piano; she sunk down quietly. Ms Capri’s presence loomed close behind her, breathing steadily. It helped Lenore gather her nerves. Her teacher, who smelt strongly of a fruity, sandalwood perfume, which feathered at the edges of her senses, leaned down, and braced herself against the piano. Her warm breath feathered against Lenore’s neck.

“Your hands.” Her fingers brushed Lenore’s. “Are you sure you can play?”

Lenore shifted away and nodded firmly. “I’m perfectly fine.”

Miss Capri breathed out heavily, pursing her lips; she stepped backwards and crossed her arms over her chest. Lenore settled her fingers on the cool keys, and breathed in deeply, getting an unwanted dose of her teacher’s perfume.

She began to play; she moved with less grace than her teacher, movements rushed, twitching across the keys with an animal-like edge. She didn’t play anything tear jerking, instead a certain sharpness settled in the notes. A blanket of warmth settled over her chest.

Lenore’s breathing rasped, clawing up her throat as the stitches shifted in her skin, cuts on her palms stretching as she moved quickly. As something simmered away in her mind; she almost moved too quickly for her hands to keep up. It didn’t stop her. Notes clawed through the room, and she slammed down the keys, speaking like the voice of thunder.

It fell silent. She didn’t allow it to slowly fade off, but suddenly halted instead, jarring enough to put Lenore’s own teeth on edge. Ms Capri rested her hand on Lenore’s shoulder. She flinched when applause filled the room.

—————

Class had moved slowly, at a snail’s pace, and she couldn’t focus, instead sitting impatiently, foot bouncing against the floor the entire lesson. She ignored Miss Capri’s teaching, opting to fiddle with her sleeves, and dig her nails into her fervently itching palms instead.

When the bell rang, shrill and aggravating, she stood up and pulled her backpack against her shoulders. She didn’t waste time and quickly made her way towards the door.

“Miss Yuson.”

Lenore cursed under her breath, and stepped back from the doorway, allowing students funnel out, some giving her sympathetic looks.

“So desperate to leave?” It held a tone of teasing. Lenore spun on her heel, and she found Ms Capri leaning against her desk, hands folded over her chest, regarding her with unconcealed curiosity.

Lenore didn’t respond. She dropped her bag down and crossed the room towards her teacher. “What is it?” It came sharper than she meant it. She breathed in deeply and repeated it—softer.

“Your TA sessions. I checked your timetable; does after lessons and archery work?” Miss Capri said, seemingly unaffected by the young werewolf’s snappy disposition.

“Do I have a choice?”

“No.” She chuckled warmly, pursing her lips as she looked at Lenore fondly.

“Then, why did you ask me?” Lenore asked.

“Well, I was hoping you would be cordial.”

“Neither of us want this. Stop.”

Lenore rolled her shoulders, and stuffed her hands in her pockets, but before she could step back, Miss Capri stepped closer to her, looking up at the taller woman. She grabbed Lenore’s forearm, who stiffened in response. “I’m trying to help you. Why are you making this more difficult than it needs to be?”

“Why are you trying to help me?”

“You have potential. More than anyone else I’ve seen, more than Wednesday. I asked around, you have the highest exam scores in your year; your English teacher only sung your praise. I think there’s more to you than meets the eye.” Ms Capri responded, squeezing Lenore’s arm to punctuate her words, which earned a forceful breath from the student.

“You should stop thinking about that.” She muttered, craning her neck away from Miss Capri, staring into the room, at anything but her.

“Why?”

Lenore ground her teeth together, curling her hands into fists, which paled her scarred knuckles.

“Why, Lenore?”

At her name, she snapped her head to meet Miss Capri’s honeyed gaze. She placed her hand over her teachers, and firmly, but gently pulled her hand off her arm; a warmth left with it. “Just leave it… for your own sake.” It wasn’t a threat, or a promise, and it didn’t sound harsh… just sombre. “I’ll do the sessions. Today, yeah? 3:00pm?”

“3:00pm.”

—————

Lenore stared up at the chalkboard, pen scratching absentmindedly against paper as she noted down the writing on the board—she had no clue how Orloff had managed to write, considering his… situation; she dismissed the thought with a shake of her head.

Beside her, Lorelai slouched, leaning against the table, occasionally grabbing one of Lenore’s scattered notes, scrawled with almost illegible writing, and folded them into paper aeroplanes, which had begun to pile up on her side of the table.

As Lenore pushed her paper to the side, Lorelai snatched it, humming to herself as she folded it into yet another aeroplane; Lenore smiled fondly, although tried to supress it, and let out an amused breath. Moments later, after she had finished with the page of notes, she flopped against the table and groaned boredly.

“When is this fucking lesson going to be over?” She mumbled into the wood.

Lenore checked her wrist, her watch read, 11:31. “Half an hour.” She responded, earning a heavy sigh from her friend.

Orloff, in his glass tank, rolled towards the front upon finishing his laps around the classroom; his weak voice, muffled by water rung out, cutting through the whispers. “Today, we’ll be learning about the biology of werewolves, and their connection to the moon.” He said. Lenore’s stomach sunk.

“Most people believe werewolves can only be considered dangerous during full moons, but that isn’t quite right. In some cases, if they’re prompted to, they can transform during other times of the month, though that isn’t that case for all of them. More commonly, alphas are known to be capable of transforming whenever, but there have been cases where other wolves have transformed and lost total control.” He explained.

Lenore shifted uncomfortably in her seat, casting her eyes downwards, towards the messy notes which covered the desk. She folded them up.

“Outliers like these are very rare, none who attend Nevermore, it’s unknown why they happen, but it’s likely a genetic mutation. It’s been known for them to try and control their nature, which drives them mad, leaving them alone, or locked up,”—Lenore’s pen shattered, sending plastic onto her desk, and ink staining the bandages on her hand. It dripped from the split cartridge, onto the clean paper of her unused notes.

She stared down at the shimmering ink smudged onto her fingertips.

—————

Lorelai’s laughter rang loudly, shamelessly throughout the hallways as she threw the paper aeroplanes, allowing them to sour through the air, with Lenore running after them, crunching them in her grasp mid-air. She gathered more, unable to put them away before the siren would throw yet another.

Lorelai reared back her arm, throwing another, which slithered through the air, spinning in a loop as it flew. Lenore lunged forward, and her fingers wrapped around it—her chest slammed against something. A warmth seeped through her blazer sleeve.

She blinked, once, twice, before realising who she had run into; Ms Capri, crouched down, collecting her papers which had spilled, and a reuseable coffee cup, which lay on the floor in a pool of coffee. Lenore kneeled down, quietly helping the teacher collect the sheets as her face burned with embarrassment.

Coffee met her nose strongly, making her face scrunch up slightly as she smelt strong coffee, the subtle scent of almonds, vanilla and chocolate, along with cream. She grabbed the cup and pressed the lid back on. She stood up, and while staring at the floor, she offered her teacher the paper.

“Your blazer.” Miss Capri’s hand brushed against her clothed arm; her blazer had been wetted with coffee. She cringed at the feeling. Lenore quickly stripped off the blazer and folded it under her arm. The sleeves of her untucked, partially buttoned shirt were rolled up. As she twisted her arm over to hand her teacher the coffee cup, a thin, tapering scar on the soft underside of her arm revealed itself. It shined jarringly against her skin.

Ms Capri’s fingers hesitated to grab the cup, instead staring at the scar on her arm; Lenore placed her hand over it. The teacher grabbed her coffee cup, and the younger werewolf took a long step back.

“Sorry about that.” Lenore muttered, awkwardly playing with the straps of her backpack. Miss Capri offered her a smile, rubbing her arm as she passed by both girls.

“You alright there? You look like you’re about to have a stroke.” Lorelai asked, earning an unamused glare from Lenore, who proceeded to roll down her sleeves, and adjust her blazer in her arms. She stepped forward without words, but her muscles grew tight, and as Lorelai slung her arm across her shoulders, her expression faltered.

“Lee?” She asked, hand tightening around Lenore’s forearm, which had all the softness of a brick.

“Yeah?” She breathed out; it clawed up her throat painfully and came out raspy.

“What’s wrong?”

“There’s something…”

“What is it?” Lorelai pulled Lenore forward, hanging close to her as they walked through the hall; the lunch rush had started, and the werewolf’s heartrate had begun to echo through her ears.

Lenore flinched as they brushed past someone, and her footsteps faltered, pressing her palms against her eyes. “Nothing.” She muttered, snapping from her trance. “It’s just the full moon getting to me.”

Lorelai stiffened and dropped her arm away from the werewolf’s shoulders; they walked silently side by side as Lenore’s thoughts raced before her.

—————

Lenore shifted her shoulders, which had begun to ache from the tension strung through them, and snapped her fingers. The statue slowly creaked open, revealing a dark passageway—she turned her phone’s flashlight on. Lorelai grabbed onto Lenore’s backpack and allowed her to lead her down the spiralling staircase, down, and down, deeper into the school.

They stepped down into the Nightshades Library, portraits—old oil paintings, covered the walls, lined with dust—their eyes seemed to follow them as they walked. They moved under an arched ceiling, into the centre of the room. Lenore’s nose scrunched up, as it always did, the smell of musty old books, and dust stuck to the back of her throat.

“Oh, this is sweet… for a library.” Lorelai laughed; Lenore didn’t reply. She dumped her bag down, and approached the bookshelves, which were lined with dust, and brushed her fingers along the shelf.

“You aren’t a Nightshade; you’re not allowed here.” Bianca said from the darkness shrouding the corner of the room. Lenore sighed through her teeth, and her shoulders sagged. “Didn’t you hear, Barclay? The Nightshades have been disbanded, and anyway, I would’ve gone where I wanted regardless.” Lenore bit, and she didn’t even bother to face Bianca.

Bianca scoffed.

“Oh…” Bianca’s voice came lighter. Lenore’s interest piqued. She glanced over her shoulder, “Lorelai, you’re here.” Bianca played with the hem of her blazer.

Lorelai flashed her signature pearly white grin, and slapped Lenore’s back. “Yeah, Lee, promised to show me around.”

“You two are friends?” Bianca asked doubtfully, eyes darting curiously between them. “I didn’t realise you hung out with people…”

“Excuse me?” Lenore asked—a sense of sharpness coming to her voice. Lorelai subtly grasped her wrist, and shook her head, earning a glare.

Bianca, quick as ever, backtracked, “I didn’t mean it offensively. I- just, from what I’ve heard… you prefer your own company.” She clarified. Lenore hummed doubtfully under her breath, an anger simmering beneath her face, heating her cheeks.

“We’re childhood friends. You’re like yin and I’m like…”

“Yang.”

“That’s it.” Lorelai beamed—Lenore’s face softened against her own will.

“Friends?” Bianca gestured between them, subtle suspicion written over her face. “Nothing more?”

Lorelai laughed—a full genuine belly laugh, while Lenore stood beside her, her tall height, and long limbs suddenly looking awkward as she shifted around. “Nothing more.” Lenore affirmed. “Besides, Lorelai isn’t my type.”

Lorelai gasped offendedly, “um, rude, and fucking wrong—I’m everyone’s type.”

Lenore looked down at her, a humorous expression laid over features, making the usually carved, grave look on her face lighten into something softer. “Sure, you are.” She agreed half-heartedly. Lorelai flicked her cheek, making her face scrunch up.

“You just like women with problems, like yourself.”

“If that was the case, you would be my type.”

“Shut up.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Lenore saluted.

Lenore’s eyes trailed around the room, meeting Bianca’s eye, who wasn’t looking at her, but right beside her—at Lorelai; she tilted her head in subtle interest. “Do you know each other?” Lenore asked.

“We met last week.” Lorelai responded.

“And hung out at the bonfire.” Bianca added.

“After you abandoned me.” Lorelai sighed in mock hurt, clutching at her heart; Lenore chuckled dryly.

“You survived.”

Lorelai’s laughter settled into silence, a comfortable silence, even between Lorelai and Bianca; who seemed to be oddly at ease, especially considering what transpired only a few days ago.

Lenore’s phone buzzed. It broke through the silence.

“Oh, are those your other friends?” Lorelai teased.

“Would that be so bad?” Lenore scrolled through her phone. “I should head out… I’ll- um see you later.” She muttered. Lorelai squinted at Lenore, suspicion scrawled over her features.

“Later.”

——————————

Lenore’s head lulled back, against the wall, and she cursed lowly, under her breath; her heavy eyes closed, and she pressed her palms into her eye sockets, making her see dancing colours and shapes. She stood beside her English classroom, which she had just come from—relief had filled her as she left, before realising her TA session would take up the next hour.

“Lenore?” A soft voice asked; it came from her concerned English teacher—a young woman, in vampire years, who had glossy black hair which flowed down her back. “Miss.” Lenore addressed curtly; her teacher stood beside her, leaning against the wall.

“What’s troubling you?”

Lenore pursed her lips, and folded her arms over her chest, twisting to face away from her.

“Your TA sessions?” She guessed.

Lenore stiffened.

“Hm. I thought so.”

“Great. Everyone knows.”

“Yes. I’m afraid so.” She laid her hand on Lenore’s shoulder, gripping softly, prompting the young werewolf to face her. “Miss Capri asked me about you when she heard about your aptitude for English. I told her ‘aptitude’ was an understatement.” Miss Zhang dipped her head, catching Lenore’s eyes, and offering a soft smile.

Against herself, pride swelled in her chest, making her face burn fiercely; she sunk her teeth into her cheek, and looked away proudly. She thoughtlessly scratched at her bandages.

“You know your brilliant, there’s no way around it; you might not want to admit it, but your pride’s too fierce to disagree. Isn’t it?”

Lenore’s throat thickened. She opened her mouth, and then it fell closed with an annoyed puff of air.

“You have potential, don’t waste it. I know you’re smart enough to turn this situation to your advantage; you can’t allow your anger to stifle your chances,”—she tapped Lenore’s heart, then her forehead— “you must stop using your heart, and use your head instead. Be objective.”

Her head fell, and her eyes screwed closed for a moment, before tilting her head back up at her teacher; a certain weariness hung on her features. It was clear hadn’t been sleeping well. “It isn’t that simple.”

“Why?”

“You can’t understand.”

Ms Zhang’s expression sobered, her ageless beauty shifted; her brow crinkled, and her chin wrinkled as she frowned. “Understand what?”

Lenore sighed and shook her head.

“It’s a rabbit hole. It isn’t anything I want to discuss, either.” Lenore pushed herself off the wall and stuffed her hands in her pockets. Her arm was caught.

“At least let me walk you.”

Lenore nodded forward, gesturing for her teacher to follow, who fell beside her as they walked together.

—————

“Mm, my editor’s brutal.”

“Yeah, I gathered that.” Miss Zhang replied dryly, a hint of teasing humour on her features.

Lenore rolled her eyes, a subtle, crooked smile curved at her lips. She pushed open the heavy library door, and held it open for her teacher; she walked into the library and Lenore followed, door swinging shut behind her.

“You’re talented; it’s simply her job to be brutal. It makes you your—”

“—best. I know.”

Miss Zhang bumped her shoulder playfully.

“You taught me that one. I had no idea you thought I was talented when I first came here. You were particular.”

“Still am. My new students hate it.”

“Eh, they’ll learn.” Lenore shrugged.

“They will. I doubt I’ll ever see another Lenore Yuson, though.”

“Careful, don’t inflate my ego too much.”

“You earned it. I wouldn’t praise you if you didn’t deserve it.”

Lenore breathed out slowly; the uncanny feeling of the blade sunk into her chest finally shifting. It gave her breathing room.

“Well, Lenore. That’s us done. I’ll pass you along to Miss Capri now.” She gestured over to the music teacher, who sat in the classics section, by the window, twisting a strand of curled hair around her finger. She stared at them with an unreadable expression.

“Tomorrow, Miss.”

“Tomorrow.” She squeezed Lenore’s shoulder, offering Ms Capri a wave as she walked away.

“Miss,” Lenore greeted, wearing a more relaxed expression than usual, only undertoned by a touch of her usual unnerving tension. She dropped her bag down, then slumped down onto the chair.

“Miss Yuson.” She replied shortly. “I didn’t realise you were so close with Ms Zhang.”

“She’s a good teacher; I’m good at English. Simple.”

“She is?” Miss Capri asked, a certain stiffness in her tone.

“She is.” Lenore’s words came sharply; her face scrunched, it wasn’t in her usual endearing away, but a snarl, which pulled at her entire face. She tilted her head at Ms Capri. “Is there a problem? If you’re annoyed about me bumping into your earlier, that doesn’t mean you have to take it out on her. I assure you; I didn’t mean to knock into you.”

Miss Capri took on a look of surprise. “No. It’s been a long day. I apologise.”

“Oh, okay.” Lenore leaned back in her chair, tapping the table mindlessly. “What happened to your bandages?” She brushed against Lenore’s bandages.

“Oh, yeah.” Lenore chuckled wryly, almost awkwardly. “I- uh, broke a pen.”

“Oh, really?” Ms Capri pursed her lips to force away a smile.

“If you can believe it.” She commented.

Miss Capri laughed softly, under her breath, and she played with her rings as her laughter faded away into the quietness of the library. Her soft expression followed after. She shifted in her seat.

She slid a stack of papers towards Lenore.

“What are these?” She thumbed through the papers as her fond expression shifted into something more expressionless, the tension creeping closer.

“First year homework. Mark them and correct them as needed using the answer booklet.” Ms Capri said.

Lenore raised her hands over head and cracked her knuckles. She slipped her headphones on and started her playlist. She began marking them; it might’ve been quick work, but it was boring, and the stack of paper didn’t seem to lessen.

Lenore hummed alongside her music, hand moving quickly as she contentedly worked through the homework; she understood why teachers had TA’s now—as simple as it was, it would still take easily an hour to mark. The music playing pushed away the boredom eager to claw at her mind.

She found a familiar name—Tomoe. Her rhythm of read, tick or cross, correct, or comment faltered; she took more time, and smiled to herself. His writing was neat, loopy, and he scored near full marks, only marked down on stubborn technicalities. It seemed like he was balancing archery and work well.

Lenore stacked her work on the finished pile, and once finding it was the last one, she threw her head back, stretched, and arched her back, out of her seat as her stiff body cracked, shirt riding up. Ms Capri stared at her but quickly looked away upon seeing she had caught Lenore’s attention.

She slid her headphones off. “I’m done.” She checked her watch. “Time’s up, too.”

Miss Capri slowly nodded; her hair a halo of frizzy curls; she pushed her hand through it. Her lips were tightly pursed. She twisted her rings, which were shiny from how often they were moved.

“Are you alright? I can stay, help out more if you want.” Lenore offered.

Ms Capri stiffened, like she was about to shake her head, before her clear exhaustion won over, and she slumped forward. “Would you?” She muttered hopefully.

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” She sighed. “It’s these Orchestra forms. I haven’t gotten them all back. I need to sort out who can play what.”

“Let’s list out who plays what, and I’ll chase up the forms tomorrow.”

Miss Capri nodded, and offered Lenore a smile, which was returned softly—barely there, mostly a nicety. “Okay.”

Lenore lined the paper into boxes, pen scraping alongside a ruler, and her sweeping scrawl of handwriting which looped, and tilted soon began to fill the page; she copied down names from the forms she had been given.

“What instruments can you play?” Ms Capri asked.

“Electric violin as you know, piano, electric guitar, and I can make my way around an acoustic.”

“Multi-talented, hm?” She mused.

“Hardly. Just… restless.” Lenore admitted, pen hand faltering. “I just like having something to fill my time.”

“Don’t like being left alone with your thoughts?” Miss Capri probed. It didn’t fall on deaf ears; Lenore knew what was doing. She let it happen and simply puffed out a breath. She leaned her jaw against her fist and cast a glance up.

“Yeah.”

“Nor do I.” Ms Capri admitted quietly. “Especially during full moons. It brings back—”

“—Memory’s.”

Lenore met her teacher’s eyes with a softened expression; a subtle understanding grooved into her features. “It reminds you nothing ever stays buried.” She muttered.

“Doesn’t it just.”

Lenore and Miss Capri fell into a silence taut with tension, and questions; it wasn’t uncomfortable, though. It was clear the conversation wasn’t finished, especially with how Ms Capri would glance over, and tense her jaw like she was about to say something.

“What do want to say?” Lenore asked.

“Why do you avoid the other students?”

Lenore dropped her pen, and leaned forward, catching her teacher’s eye. “I have my sanity tested daily by Lorelai. I don’t need a bunch of runts who think they’re better than everyone doing that, too.” She replied boredly, like it was common knowledge.

“That’s what you think of the fellow student body?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s a little hypocritical, don’t you think?”

Lenore smiled bitterly and puffed out a half-amused breath. “Just because they’re too cowardly to bully me doesn’t stop them from talking shit.”

“Why do you help them then?”

“What do you mean?” Lenore shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

“On Prank Day, Enid, Wednesday, Tomoe; even today.” Ms Capri listed off. Lenore sunk in her seat, tossing glances everywhere but at the teacher.

“Common courtesy.” She muttered.

“To help people you hate?” Miss Capri pressed.

“Why do you care so fucking much?” Lenore snapped; she breathed in deeply, calming herself. “I never said I hated them, either.”

“You alluded to it.”

“No. You’re just putting words in my mouth.”

“Am I?”

Lenore didn’t reply and sunk her teeth deep enough into her cheek for blood to bitter her tongue. “Answer my question. Why do you care so much? I mean you’ve been asking around about me.”

For a moment, Ms Capri’s shroud of calm faltered, and she looked almost sheepish, heat curling around her ears. She spun her rings hurriedly. “You remind me of someone I knew.”

“Did you manage to piss them off everything time you two spoke, or am I just special?” She bit.

Ms Capri’s eyes glossed over, and she looked down. “No. I suppose you’re just special.”

Lenore shoved the forms forward, and pushed herself up; she pulled her bag over her shoulder. “I’m going to go.” Her shoes tapped against the wooden floor—she paused momentarily, and looked over her shoulder, “how do I remind you of whoever they were?”

“They had too many skeletons in their closet, and buried secrets.”

Lenore turned back around, eyes fixed forward—her stomach sunk, then twisted; her throat thickened, and the familiar burn of bile rised up her throat. “Later.”

“Goodbye, Miss Yuson.”

—–

Hi, sorry this took so long. This month’s been busy, and I haven’t had the best motivation. Happy Halloween to anyone who takes part.