Many Thanks to Everyone who is here reading, voting, and commenting.

1Ragnarok1
@AvalonRainder
Aaliyah_BaexX
talented_playerZero
fiendishleech

Again, THANK YOU! For giving Ophelia Awakening a chance.

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Headmistress Powell had called Ophelia into her office, Friday evening after dinner. They sit in silence, only broken by the sound of the keyboard clicks as the headmistress types an email. Her bifocals sit on the very tip of her nose threatening to slip right off. Ophelia watches contemplating when they will fall.

“Ms. North, how was your first week?” She continues typing without looking up from the computer screen.

She chances making a face just to see if Headmistress Powell is paying attention. She doesn’t react. “I think it went great. I learned a lot from Dr. Davis.”

Headmistress Powell grimaces, “That is one person you shouldn’t be learning from.” She finally pushes up her glasses to peek over the screen at Ophelia. “Next week you’ll be with Judy in Biology and Alan in A&P. They’re a better influence.”

“Alright?” Her hands feel clammy in her lap. “Is that all?”

A chime sounds and the headmistress scowls at the screen again. “One more thing, tomorrow morning you’ll be going into town with the students.” She grabs a manila folder off the wooden desk and hands it to Ophelia. “This is the itinerary, make sure you follow it precisely.”

Inside the folder is a brief overview of Saturday with time stamps and locations. “Who else is going?”

“It should be you, Ms. Hotch, Dr. Porter and her husband, and Ms. Carter.” She finally looks up and smiles at Ophelia. It doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Usually 4 teachers go, but since this is your first time Ms. Carter volunteered to go and help out.”

“She did?” Surprise colors her tone.

“Yes, now go. The buses leave early since it takes an hour to get to Portland.” At the woman’s rushing, Ophelia leaves the overly stuffy office.

Early Saturday morning, Ophelia is dressed in jeans with a Vanderbilt t-shirt on. She had almost worn shorts to combat the early September heat but remembered that she worked at a school so dressing respectably was the norm now. She has her small backpack that doubles as a purse. It’s filled with all the necessary items like feminine products, pain medication, a phone charger, a first-aid kit, a flashlight/taser combo, and bear spray, all the things a young woman should carry on her.

Jonathan, Judy’s son, stands next to her. They watch as Judy runs back and forth between both of the buses. They’re white and in stark green lettering read 'Highland Academy' on the sides. “Is your mom usually like this on these days?”

The sophomore doesn’t glance away from his Nintendo Switch. “Yup.”

“Should I help her?” Judy races around with papers, crossing off her checklist. Dr. Porter and Mr. Flesh arrive with smiles, waving across at Ophelia. She waves back, noticing their way of dress. The couple wears jeans and matching Highland Academy shirts. Judy wears a similar one.

“No. That will only make her more nervous.” He sighs, rolling his eyes as his character dies. “Mom!” Judy jumps in the air at his shout. “It’s almost time to load up.” Jonathan shoots her a look as if to say ‘see what I mean?’

More and more students are coming up and surrounding the buses. Dr. Porter stands by one bus signaling the freshmen and sophomores to join her. Mr. Flesh stands by the other bus, 2 separate lines for juniors and seniors already formed.

Judy jogs over to them. “Thanks, honey, I had to make sure bus #2 could actually run today.” She sighs, using a scrunchie to put up her blonde locks in a ponytail. “It broke down in May but Powell won’t pay to have it fixed.” She huffs, “She practically puts duct tape over every problem and waits until it messes up again.”

“I’m beginning to notice that the headmistress doesn’t like paying to fix things around here.” Ophelia says while pulling out an electric fan from her bag. “It’s so hot out.”

Jonathan stands beside them in black jeans with a black hoodie. His shoes are even black. The teen shows no discomfort at all standing in the sun for the last 30 minutes. He doesn’t notice their staring, his focus on his game again.

“Don’t worry, he doesn’t get hot.” Judy shrugs. Her face shadows briefly then brightens. “Ms. Carter! I was wondering when you would join us.”

“It says we leave at 9:30 A.M. it’s 9:25 A.M.” Ophelia jumps, turning to see Ms. Carter standing directly behind her. She wears aviators, distressed light blue jeans, and a Highland Academy shirt. She also has a backpack thrown over one shoulder. Her red hair is down like always.

Judy twitches but Johnathan sighs again interrupting whatever his mother was about to say. From the looks of it, nothing nice. “Mom, Dr. Porter needs help with the loading.” He walks away from them toward bus #1.

Ophelia looks between them, wondering who will break first. “Right, Ophelia you’ll be with-”

“Mr. Flesh?” Ms. Carter interrupts, stepping closer to Ophelia. “Looks like he needs some help.” Said man is certainly struggling with the juniors and seniors. They had formed 2 lines but then instantly began ignoring the man’s instructions. Ms. Carter walks away from them, raising her voice at the students.

“She…oh if I was another person I would!” Judy’s fists are balled up. “The nerve of her.”

“She sure does like interrupting people.” Ophelia watches in amazement as Ms. Carter wrangles the 40 upperclassmen in seconds. The lines are straight and silent. She walks up and down them with a clipboard, most likely checking off names. “I take it you don’t like each other?”

She laughs at the dry expression on Judy’s usually sweet face. “Have I ever told you about the copy machine incident?” She shakes her head no. “When we have free time I‘ll tell you.”

They go their separate ways when a whistle blows. Ms. Carter motions for them to hurry as the last students board the bus. When she goes to board, Ms. Carter places a hand in front of the bus doors. “Listen, these aren’t kids, they’re teenagers. Which means you need to be conscious and aware of what you say and do today.” Ms. Carter places her aviators on her head, blue eyes narrowed.

They have a stare-down. “I know.”

On the bus, Mr. Flesh is shouting out rules. “Do you have the itinerary?” She nods. “Follow it and you’ll be fine.” Ms. Carter takes her backpack off, and searches inside for a minute. “Here, put this on when you get the chance.”

In her outstretched hand is a Highland Academy shirt. It says Class of 2014 on it. “This is yours?” Ophelia takes it, feeling the worn, soft material in her hands.

“Yeah, it’s fine that you wear it for today.” She gestures up and down at her shirt. “All faculty members must wear a school shirt so we’re easy to identify for the students.”

“Thank you.” She smiles clutching the shirt.

Pink lips purse slightly. “Well I knew you were too incompetent to buy one beforehand, so you’re lucky I had a spare.”

“I take back my thanks.” Her arms cross over her chest after she places the shirt in her backpack.

Ms. Carter smirks, placing the aviators back down over her eyes. She climbs up the stairs into the bus with Ophelia following. “Listen up! I don’t want any funny business on this bus. We came on with 40 students, I want us to come back with 40, not 39, not 41. So keep your hands to yourselves.”

A hand grabs her elbow. “Ms. North sit here.” There’s an empty seat at the front of the bus.

“Where will you sit?” She looks down the rows of seats. Finally, she spots Mr. Flesh in the middle near the emergency exit side door.

“In the back.” The other swiftly makes her way down the aisle to the back where students are roughhousing.

Sitting alone, Ophelia takes out her phone and opens up her Kindle app. She chooses a book from her library, settling in for the hour-long ride to the mall.

____________________________________

By the time 2 hours have passed, Ophelia is about ready to commit homicide. She had received a group of 15 students to keep track of in the mall. It went okay, one of them tried to slide down the escalator but Ophelia grabbed the back of his jacket hood and yanked him to the ground before he could even attempt it. Next, she had to steer them away from the back section of Spencer’s, acting like a crazy bodyguard, swatting at the students with an umbrella anytime one of them tried to sneak past.

Then at the Food Court, she combined their tables so that her group of 15 stayed together and accounted for. Except some boys attempted to throw food down the table, causing Ophelia to shout at them to behave while she angrily chewed on her hamburger. Finally, she watches as 2 girls run into Rue 21 while 6 of the boys enter Foot Locker. The remaining students stand in a ring around Ophelia, waiting.

She had a system down. They would circle the mall and enter each store at least once. So that everyone could have a chance at shopping. When any tried to sneak off, Ophelia snapped, tying them to her with a yellow ribbon tied to her backpack.

When Mr. Flesh crossed their path, he only had 3 students with him. “Ms. North, a word please?” He inclines his head away from the large group of juniors attached to her.

She takes off the backpack, giving it to one of the girls. “Don’t wander off.” She points sternly at them all. “Hey, Mr. Flesh.”

He smiles, “Is there a reason why the students are holding onto your bag with ribbon?”

“Ms. Carter said not to let them out of my sight.” She remembers being crowded against the bus while the students lined up to get off. How Ms. Carter had explicitly stated that Ophelia must not, under no circumstance, allow any of the students to leave the mall.

Two boys walk out of Foot Locker, taking their place at the back of the line, each grabbing the yellow ribbon. Mr. Flesh eyes this action critically. “I see…” His group of 3 stares at their fellow students in confusion. “You know she just meant don’t let them get into trouble. You don’t actually need them to be by your side the entire time. They’re not children.”

“Really?” Hot embarrassment creeps up the back of Ophelia’s neck.

More students file into the ribbon line, shopping bags in their arms. “Most definitely.” He smiles warmly. “I wouldn’t stop though.” Mr. Flesh checks his watch. “We’re about to leave and head to Target in 30 minutes.”

The itinerary had 2 places listed. 3 hours at the mall and 1 hour at Target so that students could pick up any bedding or toiletries that they needed for the month. Apparently, every month is a new destination. It might be Walmart and the park, or Target and hiking trails. Ophelia had blanched at the thought of spending her morning hiking and then entering Target a hot, sweaty mess.

“Right, I haven’t been keeping time.” She watches the rest of her students join the ribbon line. They talk to the other 3 students not attached to their circle. “We might just start making our way there now. It goes past Sephora and I know that will take longer than 10 minutes.”

At his nod, Ophelia walks over to her students. They follow after her like ducklings after their mother.

________________________________________

Bus #2 shakes in traffic, it idles behind Bus #1 in the thick September heat. Ms. Carter's borrowed shirt sticks to Ophelia’s tacky skin due to the humidity and lack of airflow throughout the bus. The windows are down but no breeze billows past to provide relief to their baking. Her fan had run out of battery long ago, and without a nearby charging port, Ophelia had to endure the miserable heat like everyone else.

Suddenly, the bus lurches forward. It gives a mighty shake and then dies. A plume of white smoke is out front. The bus driver, Curtis, curses, opening the doors.

“What’s going on?” Ms. Carter is at the front in an instant. Sweat beads down her forehead and her pale skin is flushed.

“What’s it look like to you?” Curtis throws his hands up. “She died on us.” Cars honk behind them. Curtis leans out the window, shouting obscenities. Some students gasp at the crude language being used while others laugh. He comes back in, flicking the switch for the hazard lights to turn on.

“Can you fix her?” Bus #1 is getting further away from them.

Ophelia’s phone rings. Judy Hotch’s name is on the screen. “Hello?”

“Ophelia, are you guys alright? We see the smoke.” Judy’s voice is full of worry.

“The driver said it died so I don’t know.” She looks at Ms. Carter and Curtis arguing at the front. “I think we’re stuck here.” In front of her, Ms. Carter pulls out her phone and dials a number. She steps outside, hand scrunched in her hair as she talks to the person on the other end. “Do you think your bus could come to get us?”

Judy pauses and then speaks, mournful. “No, we can’t fit anymore. Each bus holds 40.” She speaks to someone on the other end. “Dr. Porter said that when we get back to the school, we could probably send the bus back to pick you guys up.”

“Great! I’ll tell Ms. Carter and Mr. Flesh.” She hangs up.

Ms. Carter boards the bus again, her eyes are tired but the upset frown on her face says more. “Okay everyone, quiet down.” She gathers everyone’s attention. “I just spoke to Headmistress Powell, she said that Bus #1 will come back for us later after it reaches the school.” There are loud groans and shouts of protest. “I know, I know. Stay calm.” She leans over and whispers with Curtis. Then she points to the back and does a ‘come here’ motion with her hand. “Ms. North come outside for a minute.”

Ophelia follows Ms. Carter outside, and Mr. Flesh joins them a second later. Curtis is at the front of the bus with the hatch lifted. His head is stuck inside while he mutters to himself. “Alright, Headmistress Powell said that if they can’t reach us by 8:00 we need to look at alternatives.”

“It’s 6:30 right now.” She says confused.

Ms. Carter pinches the bridge of her nose. “I know that.”

“So what? Are we going to have to sleep in the bus tonight or are we renting out a hotel?” Ophelia said it as a joke but Ms. Carter’s face says otherwise. “You can’t be serious.”

“I have the school’s emergency credit card. It has enough for us to rent out rooms for the night.” Mr. Flesh gawks. “We need to consider the possibility that we won’t be going back tonight.”

Behind them, a siren wails in the distance. Probably roadside assistance wanting to clear out a school bus taking up 1 out of 2 lanes of the highway.

He turns to the bus full of cranky teenagers. “I’ll start creating a list of possible roommates.” Mr. Flesh wipes his brow. “4 to a room good enough?”

“2 beds, they can share. Put four in a room, I’ll start calling around at local hotels.” Ms. Carter leans against the bus. “Ms. North, start calling too.”

It being a Saturday, most places are booked up. However, when Ophelia stopped looking at Days Inn and instead at Motel 6, she was able to find enough empty rooms. Roadside assistance was able to get the bus up and running after an hour. By 8:30 the bus pulls into the Motel 6 parking lot and promptly dies again.

Mr. Flesh and Ms. Carter come back, key cards in hand. The students are separated into males and females. Groups of 2s and 4s are created. Ms. Carter dismisses the girls to their rooms on the upper floor while the boys are on the lower floor with Mr. Flesh.

There is one key left in Ms. Carter’s hand. She expected this, knowing that they would most likely have to share a room together. “Ms. Carter?” The woman flinches, breaking out of the ‘lost in thought’ expression on her face. “We’re sharing a room, aren’t we?”

All the redhead does is walk upstairs. They have room 212. She swipes the card and the dingy door swings open with a whine. Both of them stand in the doorway. The door swings shut, but Ophelia is staring at the center of the room. Eyes wide, she side-eyes Ms. Carter to see a defeated look flash over her face before it turns neutral again.

“Which side of the bed do you want?” Ms. Carter asks, sighing as she sits on the chair at the round table. It has several burn marks on it, probably from cigarettes.

A shiver crawls up her spine when Ophelia peers into the bathroom. The walls are brown from what she hope's is hard water. There’s hair in the drain and the toilet has a ring inside the bowl. “I’d rather sleep on the bus.”

“Excuse me?” Her voice is harsh in the uncomfortable air.

She points, voice frantically rising in pitch “I’d rather sleep on the bus than sleep in this disease-filled room.” She wobbles on her feet, spinning around. “That bathroom is disgusting!”

Ms. Carter stays seated. “You’re more than welcome to.”

A stare-down rises between them. Unflinching, Ophelia reels. “You’re a piece of work.” She jabs a finger at Ms. Carter but stays beside the bathroom doorway. “For real, I can’t deal with you. You are the most unkind and rude person I have ever had the displeasure to meet.”

“Calm down.” Ms. Carter pulls out her phone and ignores Ophelia.

Her mouth drops open. “Don’t tell me to ‘calm down’ that does the exact opposite.” She slams the bathroom door shut. “I’m using all the towels!” She shouts through the door.

“I don’t care.” Answers her back. Ophelia’s fists ball up and punch the stack of towels.

_______________________________________

She did in fact, not use all the towels. There were only 2 towels, 2 hand towels, and 2 washcloths. Basically 1 item for each of them. Ophelia laid her hand towel on the ground outside of the shower as she refused to walk barefoot on the tile. She stands in her jeans and Vanderbilt shirt. Ms. Carter’s Highland Academy shirt is tucked inside her backpack. She pulls on her jacket, zipping it up and pulling the hood over her wet hair.
Steam flows into the room when she opens the door. Ms. Carter is still seated at the table, eyes glued to her phone.

“I saved you some hot water.” She mumbles, walking to the bed. There is a red floral printed quilt on it. She throws it back to see plain white sheets.

The corners are crisp and show no signs of blood or any other gross stains. Not even a hint of bedbugs is at the corners or under the mattress. She lowers it back down on the frame to see Ms. Carter staring at her. “What?”

Blue eyes blink. “Did you save me a towel at least?” Her mouth lifts at the corners slightly.

“Yes.” She rolls her eyes and watches the older woman go inside the bathroom. It’s quiet while the shower runs. Ophelia decides to check in on the students, hoping to waste time and spend as much time as possible outside of the room.

Each room she checks is fine. Some girls are showered while some had decided to just sleep instead. At one point she knocked on a door and received no answer. After many knocks, the door opened with both girls looking sheepish. The seniors are in their clothes still, but Ophelia spies a bra on the floor. “Don’t let Ms. Carter catch you and please go to sleep.” She shuts the door in their surprised faces.

Back at room 212, she struggles to open the door. On one hand, there’s no telling what heinous activities have been committed in that bed, and on the other, she is way too tired to function.

The door opens by itself while she talks to herself. “I can hear you from inside, get in here.” She drags Ophelia inside and shuts the door. Ms. Carter stares down at her expectant. “Is everyone in their rooms?”

“Yeah, and I spoke to Mr. Flesh. The boys are all in their rooms too.” She sucks in a breath. Ms. Carter’s scent fills her nose. She smells like soap and sweat. She notices the woman is still wearing her clothes from today. “Is that what you’re sleeping in?”

Her hand drops from where it was gripping Ophelia’s upper arm. “Yes, is that a problem?”

Ophelia shakes her head, sidestepping around her. She needed space. “No, but I have a shirt I bought from Target if you want to wear it?” She holds out the shirt, tags still on it.

Ms. Carter bites the inside of her cheek. She walks a few steps to Ophelia and takes the shirt from her hand. Their fingers brush causing Ophelia’s fingers to twitch. She takes the tags off, placing them on the table. With her back to the young woman, Ms. Carter takes off her sweaty shirt.

“Oh, you’re going to-right here.” Ophelia darts her gaze away from the woman's freckled back. She claps her hands together, eyes on the ceiling. “You know I thought today would be different but here I am. In a hotel and not my apartment." Ophelia chuckles dryly, "I wish I had known that this morning. I would have packed better."

“Do you ever be quiet?” Ms. Carter pulls the shirt down over her waist so that it settles at her hips.

“I’ve been told once I get comfortable with someone I never shut up.” She smiles up at her. “But I’m nervous because you know.” She trails off, looking away from the older. Ophelia clutches her wrist in comfort, an act she has done to self-soothe since childhood.

Ms. Carter enters her space, popping her precious personal bubble. Again. “Why are you nervous?” She leans down, face inches from Ophelia’s.

She stares at the center of the shirt, it says Good Vibez Only. The vibes in the room are not good at all in her opinion. A mumble tumbles from her lips, whisper quiet.

“Didn’t I tell you to look at me when you speak?” A warm hand tilts Ophelia’s chin up. Their eyes meet. “That’s better, now I can see you.” She brushes the hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ears. Ophelia remains still throughout this, oddly liking it.

“Well I-” Ophelia squeezes her wrists because just wow, Ms. Carter’s face is super close. She can see green flecks in her blue eyes. “I move around a lot in my sleep, so I don’t want you to get mad.” When she tries to look away the hand tightens on her chin. “I also drool a lot. Like an insane amount, it’s weird.”

“Is that it?” Ms. Carter’s face is pulled oddly.
She nods, keeping eye contact. “Yeah.”

Suddenly the hand drops and she begins laughing. Ophelia watches as Ms. Carter doubles over, flopping down on the bed. Her entire body shakes with her loud laughter. She falls over, legs shaking.

“Okay, I didn’t think it was that funny.” She crosses her arms watching the woman have a laugh attack.

Ms. Carter inhales deeply, holding it inside before exhaling slowly. She repeats this process until her laughter is under control. “I thought you were afraid of me or something.”

“What?” She totally isn’t following what Ms. Carter is talking about.

“I thought you were a homophobe.” Ms. Carter finally looks at Ophelia. She wipes the tears from her eyes. “But you’re just super shy right?”

Again, not following. “I guess, I’m just not used to being around new people. Plus our first encounter isn’t that great of a memory.” She sits on the bed beside Ms. Carter.

“I wasn’t having a good day.” The woman’s cheeks turn pink. She scratches her arm, eyes on her shoes. Ophelia stays quiet in hope that she will explain further. She does. “My goldfish, Nugget, had died that morning. When you spoke about your pet fish at the meeting, I might have become jealous.” Ms. Carter offers her weak smile. “Sorry for treating you that way, Ms. North.”

Her heart mourns for the woman. Even a fish is a pet. Ophelia considers Twizzler to be her fish-baby, her pride and joy. She was ecstatic the day she got him 2 years ago at a Pet Smart. So she understands where Ms. Carter is coming from. “You can call me Ophelia.” She knocks her shoulder with hers.

“Samantha.” Ms. Carter extends a hand.

They shake hands, each with twin smiles.
Though, there is one thing Ophelia is still confused about. She drops the other’s hand. “You thought I was a homophobe?” She tilts her head, “I give off those vibes?”

Samantha subtly shifts her body to face hers. “No, your vibes are good.” She seems confused by her own word choice. “You avoided me all this week. The only explanation I could think of was that.”

“You noticed that?” She laughs awkwardly.

“I saw you run away from me in the hall on Tuesday.” She smirks at Ophelia’s baffled expression. “Then on Thursday, you were coming up the steps to your apartment and then ran down them again when you saw me.” She shrugs, “It seemed like you had a problem with me.”

Immediately Ophelia is sifting through her memories of the past week. Each one involving Samantha comes to mind, and yes, she will admit, she did run away each time. “I’m not amazing at confrontation, so I thought it was better to run.” She grabs Samantha’s hand, “But I love gay people! My best friend Erica is a lesbian.” Ophelia rattles off about Erica, how in college they were always mistaken as girlfriends, or when Erica brought over her first girlfriend and Ophelia bought her a cake to celebrate. “My Aunt Lea is a lesbian! Her girlfriend is practically my Aunt.” She trails off, “I wonder when they’re going to get married it’s been 6 years now.”

The hand in her grasp squeezes back. “I understand, you can stop now.” Samantha raises her other hand and pats Ophelia’s head. She scowls at the move. “You’re okay with sharing a bed then?” She juts her chin at the pillows, “Because I’m really sleepy.”

“Please!” Ophelia crawls up the bed, throwing back the covers. “I’ve been waiting to sleep all day.” She gets under the blankets, sighing in pleasure as her back slowly unwinds. Samantha joins underneath the covers. There’s a foot of space between them. “Goodnight Ms.Carter, I mean Samantha.” She receives a grunt in return.

_________________________________________

In the night, Ophelia somehow happens to roll over the foot of space between the two women. She usually slept while hugging a pillow and was desperately searching for something with a grasping hand. Still in deep sleep, her hand brushes a soft lump and believing it to be a pillow, Ophelia became like an octopus. She threaded her arms and legs around it, sighing in her sleep as her dreams settle.

Still awake because she couldn't handle all the moving, Samantha stares at the wall in front of her as the young woman holding her from behind nuzzles into her shoulder blades. She sighs tiredly. Samantha grabs the hand that's wrapped around her waist and flings it off. It only swings back and locks around her in a deathgrip. Silently Samantha accepts her fate of being an unwilling little spoon to Ophelia. She would much rather be the big spoon in this situation.

In the morning if Ophelia woke up first wrapped around the redhead, it's her business that she didn't lean away. No one had to know that she laid back down and shut her eyes. And Ophelia didn't need to know that Samantha has been awake for 5 minutes doing the same.