By Aarshiya Mukherjee
This cannot be happening. It’s ridiculous, really. Well, ridiculous in my opinion. Doesn’t seem like that for the others. Tear-streaked faces surround me, engulfing me in a crowd of crying students.
21.
Twenty-one students caught for taking mere pictures inside the school. We still don’t know what the teachers will do to us, what punishment we will receive. All we got was a shouted order from our coordinator sir asking us to summon in the auditorium. We didn’t even know what we were assembled for, until the seniors passing by told us the reason.
It’s their fault.
Allowing dozens of children to bring phones to school, and expecting them to be using it solely for academic purposes? As if the teachers never went to school and had a childhood.
No prior warning was given to us. No alert that we shouldn’t be taking pictures. I agree, posting them on social media was a misstep. But who the hell knew the posts would reach the teachers? Especially when only a selected number of people could see them. I know the school is full of snitches. I just didn’t know they would go to such an extent.
Freaking politics.
“Okay, I’m going to throw up now. I can literally smell the tears.”
Marj chipped in from beside me. Marj was an acronym for Marjorie. She said her full name made her sound like a grandma trying to be hip by wearing floral nightgowns.
She was right though. All the voices were starting to give me a headache.
My mothers going to kill me-
The teachers are so cruel-
I can’t stop crying-
Ugh. I’m sad as well, but I surely am not displaying it for other people to take pity on me. Pity is useless. A gut wrenching, immaculate type of feeling. I don’t need pity; I don’t need sympathy.
“Actually. It’s annoying,” Andie added.
“But-’’ Brenda gulped down a sob. “They’re going to c-call our parents. My-’’ Another sniff. “My life will be ruined!”
“Oh, come on. A few days and everything will return to normal once again.”
“As if it-’’
Her words were cut off by a loud screech of the speakers. We all exchanged looks of confusion, curious to know the cause. Suddenly, as if on cue, the lights started dimming. More, more and- Darkness. The lights were out. Voices arise around us, the only indication that teachers have entered. One of them stepped up to the podium and spoke boomingly into the microphone.
“Students-’’
As expected, nobody paid attention to her. Everyone was busy either gossiping, mumbling or fidgeting with random supplies.
“STUDENTS!”
A hush fell over the crowd. Each eye turns to the podium, as if acknowledging the teacher standing there for the first time.
“I request you all to remain quiet. There has been some problem with the lighting system, and we are actively working to repa-’’
The large amphitheatric screen behind her lit up. Names of the students who had been caught are jotted down, and an anonymous voice dictates them. All twenty-one of us.
Clara Bell
Marjorie Anderson
Samuel Locke
Evelyn Myers
Jamal Iqbal
Akio Gray
William Solace
Ben Grahams
Asher Levine
Andie Brown
Rowan Thatcher
Brenda Smith
Nova West
Daniel Marsh
Sage Mckenna
Sawyer Ford
Mindy Kim
Elena Howitz
Henry Lincoln
Iris Windsor
Then the voice stops, my name being the last one to be recited.
But the video still continues.
And boy, was it traumatizing.
Clips of students violating the rules are displayed, all caught in some kind of unruly act. Samuel Locke, smoking. Andie, Sage and Sawyer drunk at a calamity party. Henry and Nova, bullying kids. Me, Brenda and Marj, skipping school. There were numerous ones, uncountable. Every secret exposed; every lie revealed.
An unidentifiable emotion oozes my insides. Anxiety? Fear? Adrenaline? All three? It grips me by the heart, squeezing it until I had to take shallow breaths through my mouth. Everything is there. The video is crucial evidence, a reminder of the sins we all committed, a ticket to doom. I have no idea what was awaiting me, us. Will we get suspended? Expelled? Wait, what about my scholarship?
Oh god.
Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.
I can’t breathe.
My face must have given away a hint of emotion, because Akio Gray spoke up from beside me.
“Are you okay?”
I jerked my eyes up to his, my gaze first landing on his arm inches away from mine, and then his worried expression.
“Yeah. Yeah, just-’’ I halt, trying to find words to describe this emotion.
“Crazy?” he fills in for me.
“Exactly. Exactly that.” He must be able to read minds, because that’s exactly what I’ve been feeling. Crazy.
“This whole thing is crazy. Cruel, to be honest. I mean, you have to be exceptionally evil to expose this many students.”
He’s not wrong. “True.”
He was about to say something, but just then the screen became immobile, and finally shut off. Darkness engulfs us once again, erasing our lines of vision. I feel a warm hand on my back, as if to steady me.
Akio.
Well, he’s being nice. I guess trauma brings people closer.
A shout, hurry of footsteps, and the lights are switched on. In not more than seconds, chaos erupts, even more baffling than last time. People crying vigorously, some falling to the floor.
A thud.
Sage has collapsed.
“Hey, hey, hey. You’re breathing really fast,” Akio chimes in from beside me, his hand still placed on my spine.
“I’m-’’
I exhale. I can feel my nostrils flaring, my windpipe shutting down. I try to breathe through my mouth, but it’s no help. Hyperventilating. I’m losing breath.
“You’re hyperventilating,” he says, brows crinkled with worry. Akio guides me towards the benches at the back of the room, slowly, steadily, as if I might break any second.
Thankfully, I sit down, pulling my knees up to my chest, hands fisted at my sides. Akio kneels beside me, fumbling inside his pack for a water bottle. He hands me one, and I take it, gulping down the contents in large sips. The auditorium is still a mess, the crowd of students and teachers forming a sea of bustling bodies.
“Iris!”
I see a glimpse of Brenda’s ginger hair before she stuffs me in a hug. “Are you fine?” she says, pulling back to finally look at me.
“I-’’
“Well, you should be. Because I have crazy news.”
My mind stirred with irrational possibilities, what-ifs and have-nots. Brenda, as if reading my mind, continued. She glanced at Akio, as if acknowledging his presence for the first time. “Oh. Hey,” she says, eyes widening with mock surprise. “Didn’t see you there.”
Akio chuckles, his laugh low in his throat. “Yeah. Yeah, bet you didn’t.”
Brenda gives him a half shrug before continuing, her face lighting up the same way it does when she’s eager.
“So, you know the scandal involving Livia, right? How she was caught in an empty classroom with a guy who apparently doesn’t go to this school?”
“Yes. But-’’
“Her name wasn’t on the list. The tape that went viral wasn’t in the video either. Everyone knew about what she had done, even the teachers. Yet somehow, she was left out from this shit-show of public humiliation.”
She was right. I didn’t even notice. Livia’s name was the only one not on the list, even though her impropriety was infamous in the school. I scanned the crowd, looking for the familiar face of Livia. My eyes landed on her crumpling form, leaning on her friends as if she might fall any second.
“People are saying that the guy does, in fact, go to our school,” Brenda dictated, a glint of eagerness in the voice. “Not as a student. But as a-’’
Just then, the doors fly open. Sir Arthur, our coordinator, storms in, his steps angry and hurried. He strides towards the far end of the hall, not paying attention to the students staring at him. My gaze trails his steps, paced and furious. He halts, just in front of Livia, watching her closely. Then he hugs her. Tight. A hush falls over the crowd once again, everyone watching the scene with horror.
What the hell?
Beside me, I sense Akio suck in a sharp breath.
“As a teacher,” Brenda finishes, her voice quavering.
By Aarshiya Mukherjee
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