A woman with blonde hair, golden eyes, and very pale skin walked into the room and started the lesson. Vera listened intently, orange eyes fixed on her.
A crumpled up piece of paper landed on her desk, and she frowned, feeling dread clench her heart. Jacob was looking at her with a smirk on his face.
She uncrumpled it slowly.
On the paper there was a crude drawing of herself, on a rope. Underneath was written; Go hang yourself, halfling. You don't belong here. Tears filled her eyes. She crumpled it back up and dropped it on the ground, wanting nothing more than to collapse onto her desk and sob.
Just another quack spoutingpsychobabble.
"If I win, I'm a prodigy. If I lose, then I'm mad. That's the way history is written."
His eyes narrowed and he glared at Jacob. This was ridiculous! A death threat just because she wasn't like the rest of them?
For the rest of the lesson, Clark couldn't pay attention, he was too angry. If he hadn't learned those calming techniques from his mom and made them a habit by the time he was five, little Jacob and his friends would be fried chicken.
I know that you believe you understand what you think I said, but I'm not sure you realize that what you heard is not what I meant. - Robert McCloskey
Teacher: What do we, in the U.S enjoy from places like Mexico? Student: Wait, legally?
The lesson ended. On the way out of the classroom Vera was tripped by three different people. In the hall people would shove her around like she was a living pinball.
Just another quack spoutingpsychobabble.
"If I win, I'm a prodigy. If I lose, then I'm mad. That's the way history is written."
