Sophie's PoV:
Reaching outside, the pale iridescent hues of the sun stream down, illuminating my skin, without actually providing any warmth.
But that's just the weather of November, where the giant pulp of light decorates the sky for ornamental purposes only.
I set my bag beside me, taking out my notebook and a basic black pilot inked pen.
Sighing in anticipation, I await for the thoughts to strike my mind. What do I want to write about?
Several moments of utter disdain and indecisiveness pass achingly slow. I realize that maybe today isn't the brightest for me.
Huffing, I close my most precious possession, and gently tuck it into my backpack again, throwing the pen somewhere in there too.
If writing can't solve whatever matter going on inside my brain, then I resort to music.
They say that music is best; right after silence, when it comes to describing the indescribable.
Plugging my white earphones in, I take out my phone from my pocket, connecting to my playlist and press shuffle.
When the song that comes on is one I'm not in the mood to listen to, I skip it, hoping an almighty power derives the shuffle to a more suitable song.
When that doesn't happen, and again a song I'm in no mood for listening to at the moment blasts through the earphones, I sigh.
Shuffle, no offense or pun intended, but you seriously need to be reshuffled.
Looking at my phone, I can't say I'm surprised to see that lunch break is almost over. Grabbing my stuff quickly, I assemble myself and go inside in preparation for the next satanic class.
As I'm checking the wall watch that hangs gloomily on one of the walls, I almost thank god that the school day would be over in about two hours and a half.
But then I'm reminded of my punishment.
Damn you detention. And damn whoever decided that school was good enough of a system to teach kids instead of building depressed broken kids.
Ok, enough with my rant, I enter the classroom right before the teacher enters and I applaud myself for showing up on time for once.
>
After two agonizing hours of algebraic trigonometry -like that's what counts in the real world- I'm finally dismissed to go serve my sentence.
Comparing school with prison, ha.
At least in prison you'd have to commit a crime to be sent there.
Opening class 24 -after school detention class- I'm faced with Mr. Sanders; one of the most strict teachers in the whole staff.
As if this day couldn't get any better, I spot the reason behind my agony.
He's seated in a wooden chair at the back, on his phone before taking notice of my presence.
As if a cloud of heavy rain poured right down his head, his expressions shift 180° and the indifference changes to feelings of discontent and a hard glare is directed in my direction.
"Miss. Edwards, long time no see" Mr. Sanders greets me and I smile in malice. There are lots of reasons why I hate detention, and he's at the top of that list.
I nod in comprehension, totally discarding his attempt at riling me into responding with a sarcastic comment that will land me into a full week of detention.
Taking a random seat in the middle, I plop down hoping two hours shall pass rapidly, but peacefully nonetheless.
Time ticks slower than usual, hence boredom infiltrates the deadbeat silent room. It seems though I'm not the only one who's bored to death as I hear the sound of a phone locking behind me.
On my left, a girl I'm not aquatinted with is scribbling down her notebook, probably finishing her homework for tomorrow, an essay or something.
A loud huff from behind breaks the quiet atmosphere, earning a glance from Mr. Sanders from the front of the class, who had his eyes immersed behind his laptop screen for the past hour.
"Is there a problem Mr. Thirwall?" He addresses Dylan impatiently, I eye Dylan by tilting my head sideways for his response.
"When we'll be able to leave?" Dylan asks annoyingly, sounding fed up with this already. Can't blame him.
"You can leave once the time's up. Until then, you all should sit silently, contemplating the initial behavior that got you here in the first place" Mr. Sanders retorts coldly and I felt like killing him now, or perhaps myself. At this point, it doesn't really matter.
After that comment, agitation could be felt floating through the room. It was easy to tell that neither the teacher nor the students enjoyed being incarcerated in a room for two hours.
Finally, when the time passed, we were free to walk out of that melancholic class. Walking through the poorly lit hallways under cheap fluorescent lights, the taste of freedom blesses my tongue while heading for the library.
Once I grab the stack of books, I go through the doors and walk through the parking lot struggling, now that the stack of books is relatively larger than the one I had to walk holding this morning.
The skies are gloomy gray, with the sun being long gone and clouds carry this aura of darkness.
Looks like it's going to rain.
As if on cue, I feel a wet drop of liquid descend onto my nose. Great. I need to protect the books.
I walk a few meters with light raindrops falling tenderly before a thunder strikes in the sky, and the rain hardens in response.
Water pouring down heavily, I feel my clothes getting all wet and sticky, with a few strands of hair sticking poignantly to my face and neck.
Just as I was about to seek shelter under some building's roof, the tires of a car come to a halt, I wonder who might pity the lonely girl walking in the rain.
The passenger window rolls down, and I spot the most unexpected person seated behind the wheel.
"Get in" comes out his voice, and I must've stood there agape for a few moments because next comes his rhetorical question.
"Are you getting in or continuing walking in the rain?" Eyebrows raised expectantly. He sounds annoyed, like he regrets his decision to ever stop and help me.
Ceasing the chance I open the passenger door with much difficulty and sigh in relief once I no longer feel the water pouring down onto me.
Clearing his voice, he puts the car to gear and scrambles off to the road.
I awkwardly shift my eyes to the suddenly more interesting landscape through my window and produce least amount of movement, nailing myself to the seat.
I'm about to be for hell of a ride.
°°°
A/N:
Let the adventures beginð¤©
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