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~ Day Dreams ~
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~ Chapter Seven ~
~ Part One ~
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~ English Teacher ~
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~ Eighteen-Years-Old ~
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~ Hazel's POV ~
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Sad rain falls outside the classroom window, drenching the fields and drowning the trees. Water droplets race down the glass of the window, causing fog around the windowsill.

Sitting at the back of the classroom of trigonometry, daydreaming if my life has any hint of importance to it. And how I am captive in a never-ending time loop of limbo.

If I was gone, would anyone notice? No, I know they wouldn't! Is this going to be my life, in a forever blue haze? I wonder if my birth mother was still here and would my life have turned out the same? Would it still be black and white I claim it to be? Would I have met Jake Rivers? It doesn't matter anymore, my birth mother and Jake are both gone and far away from out of one's reach. I need to escape this place of doom and leave for college, that's if I get accepted... I need to know. I can't sit still any longer!

Eager for class to finish, I watch the clock with intensity plastered on the wall and sigh. Hurry up clock. Hurry up and be English already. I huff to myself in disappointment, noticing a minute has only gone by.

"Aham, Hazel." Mr. Jefferson said pulling me from my thoughts. "Since you seem to be paying attention to my lesson, you should know the difference between—" he said as the school bell rings, indicating it was lunch. "Saved by the bell, next time you choose not to listen in my class then I'll have to give you detention. Do I make myself clear?" Mr. Jefferson cocks an eyebrow. He interrogates, my skin burning underneath his gaze.

Looking away without a reply, still planted in my desk chair as students stare at me and leave the muggy room for lunch. As for me, I was not so lucky. "Yes, sir. I understand. Can I leave now?" I said with a tired expression, knowing there were bags underneath my eyes from lack of sleep.

"Yes, off you go," Mr. Jefferson shoos me off with a flick of his hand, sitting at his desk reading through his notes.

I stand and gather my books off the table, carrying them in one arm. Grabbing my leather brown, backpack with my free hand at my feet, swinging the bag straps over my shoulders. Leaving the classroom in a hurry, before Mr. Jefferson changes his mind.

The crowding halls of my high school were full of smothering overwhelming bodies. Watching the ground as I walk, not caring if I bump into people, and trying not to let the big crowds of people bother me. But I should have been more careful because I manage to collide into the Queen Bee herself and her minions. Since I was not paying attention to where I was walking, I caused her to spill her drink all over herself. She was furious and fuming straight at me. As for me, I should wish I were dead.

"What the hell! You ruined my outfit, you loser!" the Queen Bee says and her friends stand around the lockers, blocking any form of escape.

"S-sorry," was all I could muster. My back hit the lockers, looking anywhere but the Queen Bee's face. I knew she was death glaring and breathing down on me.

"This was Gucci! Limited edition!" the Queen Bee said, hitting my books out of my hands with a huff. "My father is the principal and he'll be hearing about this," she threatens and hums a chuckle, her friends laughing along with her and they walk away with a smug smile.

I gather my fallen books off the dirty floor and find my locker and put in my locker combination. I stuff the books inside the locker and close the metal door with a thud. With caution this time, I walk towards the girls' bathroom and lock myself inside a stall. I sit on the toilet cover and open my backpack and retrieve the sandwich paper bag and eat the contents inside in silence, only the sound of my munching can be perceived.

It was much safer in the girls' bathroom to eat, rather than to be stared at in the cafeteria because I am sure the Queen Bee has already spread rumors about me. Oh well, only two more days left of high school then this torment will be over. In the process of the incident with the mean girls, my backpack was smooshed between the lockers and my back which caused my sandwich to become brutalized.

The sandwich quickly becomes unappetizing, throwing the food back into the paper bag and shoving it into my backpack, then unlocking the stall door. I sling my bag over my shoulders and wash my hands, as I notice the reflection of a stranger staring back at me. Is this person who I really am? A loser... I shake the uneasy thoughts from my mind, shutting off the faucet and leaving early for my next class. English with Mr. Carmichael.

I approach the door to the English classroom and knock, opening the wood door. Mr. Carmichael was slouching on the desk chair with his legs resting on top of the desk, his ankles were crossed over one another, and eating a bagel with a coffee. Crumbs fall onto his loosely tucked collar shirt with a trusty tweed blazer and a poorly arranged tie around his neck.

"Oh, Summers. You'd be right on time if it were only fifteen minutes later, but I guess there's no such thing as too punctual." Mr. Carmichael said with a mouth full, looking at an imaginary watch on his wrist. "Only..." he clicks his tongue thinking, "Huh... why don't you look at that. Fifteen minutes early today. This isn't like you to annoy me while I enjoy my calories in private."

"Ha-ha, very funny, Sir," I mock and sit at a desk in the front row.

"No honestly, it's a new record. You're not usually this early," Mr. Carmichael drops his legs from the desk and wipes himself clean from the crumbs from his shirt and hands. "So, something must be up. Is everything okay? Did you want to talk about it?"

I thought about telling him about the incident with the mean girls but thought better of it and question him about what I have been dreading all day. "Yeah, everything's fine, Sir. But I'm just dying to hear if you've heard anything about my College Application?"

"You already asked me last week. But I assure you, I put in a good word for you from yours truly." Mr. Carmichael closes his eyes, hands to his heart with a wide smile, and takes a bow from his seated position.

"I know, I'm just eager to find out. English is my favorite subject and I want to honor what you've taught me. And one of these days I'll become better than you, old man," I said with a grin.

"Better than me huh...? Is there anything better than a soon-to-be-divorced, old man on a teacher's salary," he let out with a light chuckle. "Nope, but my dashing bald head makes up for it as it is a masterpiece on its own and takes me not even minutes to get it this shiny. See—" he said laughing to himself and showing off his shiny bald head.

"Ha-ha, thanks for the imagery, Sir. Much appreciated," I pout, with sarcasm hinting at my voice.

"Your very much welcome, Summers. Anyway, back on topic," Mr. Carmichael pauses, wiping his stubble with a tissue, in case crumbs were lingering on his face.

"In my moral opinion, you should get into college as English is your forte. You're one of my best students and mind you, one of my favorites who never stop bothering or nagging me." Mr. Carmichael smiles and takes a sip of his coffee and makes a funny face. "Oof, cold," he places the mug back onto the desk as he moves it away from him, causing droplets of coffee to spill onto the wood of the table.

I laugh at Mr. Carmichael and smile hoping I get into college. He is my favorite teacher and English is my favorite subject to study. Just the way with words is so interesting. He has been my English teacher since I survived Junior-high. When I first met him, I was only reading cheesy YA novels but he introduced me to a whole new world of literature, from Hemingway to Jane Austin through to every generation's great poet and writer to date.

However, one thing I always valued, was that he taught me how to write, and how to really write about how to express myself emotionally. In a way, I could never articulate it until now. Mr. Carmichael was more than just any old teacher. He was a mentor in my eyes. As a male, I do consider him as a father figure. A father I never had. A father I will never dream of having.

"Hey, are you sure you doing okay?" Mr. Carmichael reassures.

"Honestly, I'm okay I'm just dreading these last few days of school really," I sigh to myself.

"You know the last day isn't mandatory and you've already graduated. So I don't see the problem in not showing up. Unless you can't live without seeing this pretty face." Mr. Carmichael indicates to his face and cracks himself up with a wide grin. "But you didn't hear this information from me," he winks.

I smile again as the school bell rings, indicating lunch was over. I sigh and mope towards the back of the classroom as people begin to flood the room. After class, I said my goodbyes to Mr. Carmichael and even hugged the old man. He was a great teacher who I will miss.

With the thought that there might be a College Letter waiting for me at home in the mailbox, it motivates me to go to my next class as my eyelids become heavy and heavier by the second.

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~ Cheers ~
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Please, tell me in the comments what you thought about Chapter Seven ~*~ Part One? 🙈 I'll be greatly appreciated, thank you, you very kind soul!
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~ Chapter Seven ~
~ Part One ~
~ Dedications ~
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HeliiBoh
DebMorey
PeterPetruzzella
CaitlinWoodward9
DaniJones_14
ChloeMayerhofer
savvvy1998
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You guys should totally check out PeterPetruzzella short story! Lighthouse. It's amazing! Please also go check out Peter's YouTube account pure56 for awesome content on movies, tv-shows, and game reviews!
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You guys should totally check out ChloeMayerhofer story! Fallen! It's awesome!
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C.Morey 🥕 xoxo
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