“Ana,” I hiss, rubbing at my sore knee, “What the hell do you want?”
“Oh stop being such a cry-baby,” Ana whispers into my ear, glancing at the teacher’s desk then pointing at my finished answer sheet and her empty one.
I stare at her in disbelief. From the outside, she looks the same, shiny black hair combed into a bun, pressed clothes, neat. But there was obviously something wrong. In the 16 years I had known her, my friend had never come unprepared in her life, especially not for a test. And she certainly never cheated. Of course, I did. I looked at her answers. I procrastinated. I got caught. I slept through the detentions. Not vice-versa. Deciding it was probably best to interrogate her when there weren't 30 people in the same room trying to complete an assessment, I turn my paper around, crossing my arms.
“Anastatia, I really thought you are better than that.” sighs Ms. Scott.
Eyes turn to face Ana, as her cheeks gain color. The boys crowded around the table at the back laugh. I place my hand on hers in hope of some reassurance.
“Anastasia, Lyra please make your way to the..”
There is a sharp knock at the door. We breathe in relief.
“Sir, I must ask you to leave. 11A is undertaking an important exam and as stated on the notice on the door, no disruptions,” says Ms Scott, arms folded in annoyance.
The raven haired man takes a step in. An unfamiliar feeling races from the tips of my fingers.
He takes another step. I can see his cloudy black eyes now. My breathing quickens.
“Sir, please leave.”
One more step. My mind enters overdrive.
“Sir, I have no choice but to call the police.”
Last step. He smiles at me. My body tingles.
“Don’t worry. I think I found what I was looking for.”
The lights turn off. I fall.