Time slid past, with me blending in with my classmates, pretending to pay attention as teachers talked endlessly about things I'd suddenly lost interest in. Sat in the last class for the day, I counted down to when the bell would ring.
"You all impressed me in the test," Madam Charity said, smiling. "Well, at least most of you. So, well done."
My stomach churned as low voices rose from every angle. Why the excitement? They'd only been commended for doing well in six-line poem centering on sadness.
"Why the fuss?" I muttered. "It's not like they won a lottery or anything."
Amarachi stomped my left foot. A yelp escaped my throat, drawing everyone's attention to me.
"Uh-oh," Amarachi said, stifling a laugh.
"Shall we proceed?" Raheem's voice rumbled from where he was sat. Although I fixated my gaze on my book, I could tell he hadn't bothered to glance at me.
Madam Charity returned her attention to the class. "Okay, where were we? The poems. Right. So, I was saying your poems are all beautifully written. It wasn't easy choosing the best. But after hours and hours of reading each poem over and over again, I was left with two."
She looked down at the papers in her hand. "The first, titled 'Flames and Ashes' was written by Victoria Brown."
She'd definitely picked the wrong poem. If that thoughtless poem had made it to top two, then I feared for Western High's seniors. What had everyone else written?
Roses are red
And violets are blue
I suck at poems
And so do you?
I wouldn't be surprised if I saw a poem like that. Arms folded, I listened as Madam Charity read my work.
"It's an invisible fire coursing through my veins
A wall of thorns closing in on me
A silent scream trapped in my throat
A two-edged blade splitting my heart in two
A void in my heart that cannot be filled
Flames and ashes where there once was a fire."
Although I had no reason to worry, I did anyway. I feared everyone could decode the message underneath every word I'd written. I feared I had bared my vulnerability to them, showing them the deadly rawness within me. I feared I had told the whole world the struggles I faced every moment my life.
Amarachi touched my arm. "Are you okay?"
I nodded. Raheem turned around to look at me. His eyes searched mine as though wanting to hack into my mind and discover my deepest emotions. His eyes told me I didn't have to put up an act anymore. He knew that behind my mask lived a very frightened girl.
"Flames and ashes where there once was a fire," Madam Charity said. "Beautiful line. Can you share with us your sentiments when you wrote this?"
"It's...not about me," I said. "I just wrote whatever came to mind. I suppose that's not an offense, or is it?"
"Whether or not it's about you, I still think it's a very beautiful poem."
"Thank you."
"Flames and ashes where there once was a fire," Raheem mused loud enough for all to hear. "I am also interested in this very line. I think she speaks of the feeling of not feeling. Maybe something happened in the past. Maybe someone did something unthinkable, unforgivable. At first, there was the burning fire of hate, so intense it compared to the sun's fury. But then it slipped away, and now there's neither love nor hate. There's just nothing. It's a feeling so disturbing, it drives one crazy."
Madam Charity beamed. "That's a brilliant explanation! I didn't even think that far."
"Shall we proceed to the next poem?" I asked. Raheem flashed me a grin. This was him getting back at me for our most recent disagreement.
From the corner of my eye, I could see Amarachi staring. "What's with you and Prince Charming?"
I shrugged. Madam Charity's gaze tickled the second poem for a moment or two. She glanced at Raheem, and then at her entire audience. "This one is called 'Why?' It was written by Raheem H. Kadir.
Why let yesterday cloud your tomorrow?
Why drown in darkness when light shines ahead?
Why reopen the wounds that time can heal?
Why sink when you can swim?
Why burn in hell when paradise awaits you?
Why follow the path that leads to nowhere?"
I knew he'd written this for me, and somehow, his words sank deep. Was I really prolonging my bitterness by living in the past?