Chapter 54

Rowena

So Eric was on the list.

It shouldn’t have bothered me. I shouldn’t have had a care in the world about it. Eric was my brother and nothing more; anything that happened between us was just a mistake, a momentary lapse in judgment brought about by his three years away from home. The distance between us had simply made us confused, and soon we would just look back on it and cringe.

And yet, despite all of this, I felt crushed over the thought of Eric going on a date with whichever beautiful cheerleader chose him.

I hated that I felt this way, truly, but I couldn’t seem to make it stop. I didn’t want Eric to participate in this event, and I certainly didn’t want him to go to a dance with a cheerleader as his reward.

It should be me, I kept thinking to myself. No one else. Just me.

No matter how many times I tried to make myself stop having these thoughts, I just couldn’t stop. I felt dizzy, almost delirious over it. How was it that this silly event, nothing more than a friendly competition between schools to drum up excitement over the championship, had me feeling like this?

I frowned to myself, scribbling furiously in my notebook as all of these thoughts whirled through my mind. I was in class, but it hardly felt like it; I hadn’t taken a single note or focused on a single thing that the professor had said all morning.

Instead, I doodled meaningless shapes on the page; it wasn’t like me, to be doodling in class rather than paying attention, but I couldn’t help it.

I just felt… too out of it to pay attention to my studies.

“Rowena? Rowena!”

The sound of the professor’s voice caught my attention, causing me to jerk my head up. At some point during my frantic movement, my water bottle fell off of my desk and onto the floor with a loud, metallic clang that caused the eyes that were already on me to narrow with judgment.

I blinked, looking around dazedly. Everyone was staring at me, waiting for me. Meanwhile, the professor stood at the front of the class with his arms folded, tapping his foot impatiently.

With my cheeks flushing what was quite possibly the deepest shade of red known to man, I quickly bent down and retrieved my water bottle before clearing my throat.

“S-Sorry,” I said, swallowing. “Um…”

“We’re waiting for your answer,” the professor growled.

I quickly glanced at the chalkboard behind him, but I couldn’t make any of the words out from where I was sitting toward the back. I could, however, see what appeared to be a diagram of the retina; and so, too embarrassed at this point—and too dazed, for some reason—to ask for clarification, I quickly blurted out the first word that came to mine.

“Cones and rods?” I called out.

It was the most logical thing I could think of at the moment, seeing as how strangely dazed I felt; the cones and rods were part of the ocular receptors. Yes, that had to be the correct answer. I recalled that the professor had been teaching us about the eyes, because we had a paper coming up on the relationship between vision and combat ability.

And yet, no sooner had the words left my lips than there was a sharp ripple of snickers throughout the class. The professor narrowed his eyes at me, angrily gritting his teeth. I felt my face heat up even more, my heart pounding faster than it possibly ever had.

I guess that wasn’t the right answer.

Slowly, he raised his hand to quiet the class. “How quaint,” he said, licking his lips before continuing, “you’ve successfully pointed out two of the receptors of an ocular cell. But that wasn’t what I asked for.”

I swallowed hard. “I-I’m sorry, professor,” I stammered out. “Wh-What was the question?”

Another wave of chuckles made its way through the room. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat as the professor shook his head at me.

“I don’t repeat myself in this class,” he said, nodding his head toward my notebook. “And perhaps if you didn’t spend the entirety of class doodling, you would know that.”

I felt sick. I looked down at my notebook, at the manic array of shapes and letters, and felt my stomach twist even more. I might throw up, I thought to myself. I knew, then and there, that I had to get out. Quickly. Before I embarrassed myself yet again.

“S-Sorry, professor,” I stammered, standing unceremoniously. Without a word, and with the eyes of the others fixed upon me, I hurriedly gathered my things.

The professor said nothing as I shoved my things into my bag and scurried past him, but he didn’t need to. I could already feel the judging stares of both him and the other students, watching me until I was fully out the door.

It wasn’t until I was halfway down the hall and heard the heavy lecture hall door click shut, echoing in the empty corridor, that I finally let out the breath I had been holding. It came out in a shudder, and as it did, I felt my vision begin to blur and darken around the edges as though I might pass out at any moment.

“Ugh,” I muttered to myself, slowing my pace and pressing my hand into the wall to steady myself. I stood there like that for a few moments, wavering where I stood, until my vision returned.

It was only then that I realized just how hot I felt; far more than the usual heat of embarrassment, a feeling that I had grown accustomed to after years of being bullied. No, this was different.

Maybe I hadn’t slept well, I figured; maybe all of this mess with Eric was finally getting to me.

I didn’t know. But I did know that I needed to sit down, maybe drink some water, try to calm down. Yes, that would help.

Once I felt steady enough to walk again, I pushed away from the wall and made my way down the hall, then around the corner toward the stairwell. It was quiet now, seeing as how classes were still in session for a while longer, so I sat on the top step and dug through my bag for my water bottle.

Sighing, I pressed the cold metal to my neck, feeling a slight shiver run down my spine. I used my free hand to wipe away the beads of sweat that had begun forming on my forehead, and breathed deeply—in through my nose, out through my mouth.

God, I was hot. I glanced up, frowning, to see if there was a thermostat nearby—maybe the heat had been turned up.

But it was then that I heard the sound of light, quick footsteps approaching, followed by a shrill voice coming from behind me; a voice that only made me feel even hotter than before. It was the last voice I wanted to hear, and for a moment, I hoped that this was all just a nightmare.

It wasn’t, though. It was real; Heather was coming to wreak more havoc on my trainwreck of a day.

“Well, well. Looks like your fifteen minutes of fame is finally coming to an end.”