The clock made the sound of a single tick as it struck halfway through the hourly round, the shorter hand patiently pacing it’s way toward the nine. It was about all Cassia could do as she sat at her usual desk, the third row of seats second left of the wide classroom window.
Outside the sky was pure azure, more saturated than it ever had been the past few weeks. Large puffs of clouds textured of pearl-coloured cotton floated through the sky, big in their presence though leaving plenty of space for the blue. The glowing sun left Cassia’s olive skin kissed with warmth, soft from the earthly hug. In comparison, the dimness of the classroom stood no chance.
In its own right, the room was not at all too shabby—her Latin teacher Mr. Blake was quite the movie enthusiast, having the walls completely covered in film posters, from top to bottom; with feature films such as Star Wars to Harry Potter to movies she’s never even heard of. It made the room feel cozy, as Cassia remembered her own poster-covered bedroom, covered to the point any visitor would question if walls even existed in such a place. So as much as she disliked Latin, this classroom wasn’t the worst place to sit in for an hour first thing in the morning.
With that being said, waiting for a class that seemed it would never start sure was a bore. Not only was Mr. Blake nowhere to be seen, neither were any of her classmates. No jingling of keys bouncing against a stomach as it hangs from their neck, no sharp clicking of womanly heels nor the squeaking of teenage sneakers.
Even if at least one of her classmates shown up, she’d have something/one to be entertained by. Cassia was neither shy nor outgoing and didn’t find much trouble in one-on-one human interaction with her acquaintances. Socializing was merely an event she let herself take part in, even if she wasn’t looking to engage in it. Through her three years of high school it quickly occurred to her that, in order to get on people’s good side, all you have to do is: a) listen, and b) ask questions about them. For the most part, this wasn’t a complicated task, as she’s found the stories people tell to be quite interesting in contrast to the dull day-to-day life she lives. This predominantly consisted of going to class, having lunch with her group of half-friends-half-acquaintances (people whom she enjoys their company but only speaks to since they’re in the same class sort of deal), then leaving school right at the bell to pick up her little brother, watching over him until her father arrives from work.
Like the disorganized cluster of posters on her bedroom wall Cassia has learned to find comfort in her current routine. Though today felt awfully different. Not only was it quite mysterious of a fact that no one was around, but an eerie question that begged to be answered that sent Cassia slight chills against her bare arms; but the breeze flowing through the classroom window was also warm and welcoming, like a friend greeting you with a light yet meaningful embrace. A feeling hard to explain, Cassia felt the outside calling to her, as if this breeze really is her friend, throwing pebbles at her window and begging her to play. A playful urge that was hard to resist.
Her chair screeched across the dusty floor. She threw on her school bag. As she made her way across the room, standing under the doorway, Cassia peered back into the lonely classroom. Whatever happens, she has a strong feeling today’s decision won’t be something she’ll regret.
With the very few lights on in the vicinity, the hallways were quick to give Cassia horror movie vibes. The building, thankfully, was built with plenty of tall windows and a surrounding courtyard in the middle allowing for natural light to brighten the halls, the glow highlighting specks of dust floating through the air. Nevertheless, Cassia’s concern for both herself and everyone else (though mostly herself) grew larger and larger the more she strolled carefully down corridors.
As she was about to execute her plan of ditching the school, with the entrance just a few paces down the hallway, she realized it’d be morally right for her to make sure she wasn’t simply missing a school assembly or event or some other scenario she hadn’t thought of. Rarely missing a day of class, it’d be embarrassing in her eyes to be the only one missing out.
Looking for signs of life, she made sure to peer through any classrooms with little windows on the doors, standing on her tiptoes to get a better view; and each time was the same. The lights would be off, making it harder to see, though as Cassia squinted through the glass she took note of how tidy every room was. Chairs carefully tucked, no litter or books scattered about, chalkboards bare of words. None of the rooms were unlocked, either.
Cassia continued her round around the school, keeping her ears open for any sound indicating someone was around. She acknowledged how different the atmosphere was when the school was barren. Being so used to the sound of lockers slamming shut, students shouting at their friends from across the hall and endless chatter, the building was currently a completely different world than what she was used to. It made her want to continue exploring almost as much as frightened her, with a constant paranormal feeling occupying the reactor in her gut.
Trying to open each door she could find, the only one that actually made do were the bright baby blue doors to the arts sector of the building. Entering inside leads to bright colours along the walls of student-made paintings, daring in palette yet carefully chosen to not clash against each other. Posters of the students’ up-and-coming dance shows, plays, open mic performances were stuck onto the colourful bricks. Student work displayed in glass cases showcased the finest of works, from intricate clay sculptures of fantasy creatures to unique hand-painted shoes. It was a bit unfortunate, seeing work so wonderful smothered by the dark, meeting the eyes of nobody.
Cassia took tentative steps down the hall, treading ground that was surprisingly unfamiliar to her; the classes she took led her toward the other side of the school, as opposed to being inside the sector or walking through it to her class. And besides, the last time she was here frequently was ninth grade visual arts.
Stepping toward the art studio, Cassia wriggled the knob of the front door until she found it making a tiny click sound. It was open. She could barely believe her ears. With a combination of pure excitement and curiosity rushing inside her she threw open the door and jumped inside the room, barely acknowledging the noise she’s made as the door collided with a nearby metal locker. The sound echoed into the room, a large airy space with easels and long wooden desks scattered about in no specific way. Tall windows let in streams of dim sunlight and art supplies were neatly tucked away in a long bookshelf, acting as a divider between the space.
Not too long after stepping inside, Cassia witnessed sounds of objects crashing together, ones her vision could not catch as they took place behind the shelves. The floor vibrated beneath her running shoes as a large clanky thud erupted from the other side of the room, followed by sneakers squeaking across the tiled floor. She was definitely not alone.
At first, Cassia felt a hitch in her breath, instinctively ready to call out to the something/one, in hopes it would be friendly and respond back. But it quickly occurred to her that if she’s learned anything from Friday The 13th or Nightmare on Elm Street, it’s to not call out to the predator. Even if you think they could possibly be good.
Whether it was natural instinct or action caused by her sureness of being trapped inside the plot of a cheesy horror flick, Cassia got down on the ground, crouching as she grabbed the first thing her hands could catch: a small yet heavy metal paint can. On the label was written “blood red” as the tone, and she muttered a prayer of hope that this would be the only source of red she’d see.
She inched closer toward the sound, using the conveniently-placed art shelf as a hiding place from the something/one. Cassia stood up confidently, paint can clenched in her hands like a baseball player ready to play the next pitch. Just then, a panicked voice rang out: Who the hell is there?
Cassia jumped in surprise as she met the widened grey eyes of another student, whose strawberry blonde curls bounced as she let out a small gasp. Neither of them were familiar to each other.
You know, calling out to strangers isn’t exactly a good idea.
Sorry, what?
Nothing.
I’m allowed to be in this room, I just got startled and I didn’t mean to knock over—
Why are you here?
I have first period spare, so I’m usually in here. I paint.
The girl pointed to a canvas sprawled on the ground. Though unfinished with paint smudged from the fall, Cassia was impressed with the amount of detail the picture—a sunflower field stretching through hills, with a few flowers in the foreground taking main focus.
Oh. That’s strange.
The fact that I paint, that I’m here, or that you’re interrogating me as though I have anything to do with you?
No one’s in the building today. Except for you and me.
What do you mean?
You ask an awful lot of questions.
Shouldn’t you be in class?
Like I said, there’s no one there. And everywhere else. They’re all gone. Capisce.
There should be class today. How else would we have gotten inside the building?
That’s true, but everywhere else is locked. Except… my classroom… and this one.
You’re creeping me out.
If you don’t believe me, come see for yourself.
Fine. Let me grab my things.
And so the duo left the art studio, Cassia silently slipping the paint can back on the shelf when the girl wasn’t looking—Evelyn, she learned was her name. They passed through the blue double doors and back where Cassia previously explored, pointing out the vacant, locked classrooms. She was a little less paranoid now having a companion, though it begged for even more questions like, is it coincidence that I’ve bumped into someone? and is anyone else around? She then wondered what Evelyn was thinking, noticing the way she bit her bright pink fingernails and dragged behind in her pace.
They soon came across Cassia’s Latin class, door left open the way she left it. As Evelyn peeked her head inside, Cassia took a moment to ponder, leaning against the dark brick wall.
At this point, nothing was stopping her from leaving; all she needed to do was walk through those front doors and bam, she was to do as she pleased. The idea of freedom never felt more exciting, and she was eager to embrace it.
There’s no teacher, Evelyn said. Or students.
I know.
And it sure is nice out.
Yeah, it is.
We have the right to leave. It’s been over fifteen minutes.
A smirk grew on Evelyn’s face. It was an expression of rebellion that took Cassia by surprise.
I wonder where you heard that.
Somewhere.
Cassia felt a hand take hold of her own. It was softer than she expected. As she glanced at the blonde, she noticed the light freckles sprinkled across the bridge of her nose. The air filled with laughter, and the sound of feet dashing through the halls echoed.
ʚ sloom ɞ 