Do not avert your eyes to the truth, for it is ubiquitous and necessary for survival. Do not embrace the lies, for they only provide a temporary euphoria for the realities of these worlds. Within truth lies infinite enrichment, whereas lies harbor blissful ignorance and a warm blanket of darkness.

A reason, Opal figured as she yawned. A reason to be awake in a world that wanted nothing to do with her.

A dull ringing noise came from the corner of her room, but Opal ignored it; she was still wondering why she got up this morning. She could think of no good reason – she didn’t have friends to welcome her back, she didn’t know anyone who wanted to catch up with her, and she didn’t have any special person in her life to reconnect with. Nobody wanted to see her.

Opal sighed and brought her scabby knees to her chest, plopping her chin on them as the mattress bounced a little. The dull ringing continued, followed by soft thumping, but Opal was deep in her thoughts. It would be better if she could make herself disappear; that way, she wouldn’t have to find a reason to be awake. It would be better for everyone if –

“God,” muttered Opal as she turned her attention to the black race car alarm beeping nonstop in the corner of her bedroom. Her father had gotten it for her after he’d found it in a magazine last Christmas.

She slid off the bed and stumbled after the race car, following it to the same corner of the room where it always crashed. Tired, Opal flopped over her purple high tops and cookie wrappers, bent down, snatched the car, and slammed the snooze button.

It’s quiet again, she thought as she put the race car back on the night stand.

Opal heaved a sigh, a breath that carried more than anxiety for her first day of junior high at a Catholic school. Untying the headscarf and scratching her dry scalp, she shuffled out of her bedroom and towards the bathroom.

Opal’s older sister’s room adjoined hers, a welcome sign hanging on her doorknob that read:You enter, you die. As Opal dragged her feet, the wooden floor creaked in loud protest underneath her. She smelled bacon sizzling in oil downstairs, which encouraged her to press on while her eyes begged her to shut tight. Soft snoring buzzed from her parents’ bedroom – it was most likely her mother. The snores made Opal more alert, sobering her up from her drunken summer lethargy.

By the time she was done in the bathroom, she was doing a last minute fix up in her bedroom. Two beads of sweat crawled down her flat nose, brought on by her hot shower and sauna of a room. Opal scanned herself in the mirror for imperfections, and she found many – her burnt umber skin was fairly smooth, except on her face, where the remnants of a few popped pimples had left black marks on her cheeks. As she stroked her face, she ran her fingers through her pressed, shoulder-length hair, wincing as she pulled out a strand that had gotten caught in her crystal ear studs. She took a quick glance at her uniform; the initials H.G. were sewn on the top left corner of her white blouse, and her grey and brown plaid skirt fell less than an inch above her knees.

My eyes are still puffy, Opal thought to herself. She’d spent another night crying herself to sleep, trying to drown her burgeoning regrets in tears. I wonder what Aaron did over the summer.

Regret seized Opal’s throat, but she quickly released it as she lowered her head and let out an overwhelmed sigh. Without warning, Josephine Charm opened the door, startling Opal while flashing a groggy smile; Opal turned back to the mirror and cast a disappointed glance at her own reflection. Josephine’s dangling garnet earrings jingled as she sauntered in, placed her hands on Opal’s shoulders, and smiled weakly at her daughter’s sullen reflection.

 “Morning. Don’t you look lovely for the first day of school?” Josephine said, rubbing Opal’s shoulders as if prepping a champion.

“Don’t lie,” Opal replied in a half-serious, half-sarcastic tone.

“You’re all cleaned up and lookin’ good for school…your room, on the other hand…” She noticed the clothes Opal had worn in the past week lying in piles on the carpet. She winced at the candy and ice cream wrappers strewn across the wooden floor. “After school, you should clean this up instead of drownin’ it with this nasty lavender scent.” 

“I wanted to…” Opal started.

She wanted to tell her mother she would be spending time with Aaron after school, but her mom would know that was a lie; Aaron hadn’t been in the Charm household since the fifth grade, and Opal hadn’t mentioned him since then either.

“Wanted to what?”

“Nothing.”  Whatever Opal had to say, her mother wouldn’t hear it.

Opal gazed at her mother’s deep sepia-skinned reflection, observing her features before lowering her head. Stress tarnished her mom’s natural beauty. Wrinkles drooped down her forehead, and early sprouts of grey hairs added five years to her age – when she wasn’t wearing light brown extensions that curled down to her breasts. Despite Josephine appearing to look like Opal’s grandmother when exhausted, the honey hazel eyes Josephine passed down to Opal were the most defining feature on her stress-ravaged face. Opal remembered what Josephine had told her once about her eyes, You know what your daddy told me about these eyes a long time ago? “I could get forever lost in your eyes.” Men’ll drown in yours, too.

Opal was always doubtful of that.

“You’re coming straight home, you hear me?” Josephine said, tightening her grip on Opal’s shoulders.

“Yes, Mom,” replied Opal reluctantly.

“Breakfast is ready downstairs. You’ve got to start eating more, honey…what’s wrong with your eyes?”

“Nothing.”

Josephine placed her finger under Opal’s flat chin and lifted her head to the sunlight. Opal winced, waiting for her mother to ask uncomfortable questions she didn’t want to answer. She wasn’t a nurse or a doctor – not a professional one, anyway. Why did she have a reason to examine Opal’s eyes?

“What?” Opal asked.

“Opal, don’t what me,” griped Josephine as she turned her daughter’s head to the side. “Did your eyes hurt when you woke up again?”

 I was crying, crying like I always do! Why do you ask stupid questions?

 “A little bit,” said Opal.

 "I guess we need the eye drops again. Another infection?”

 “I guess.”

Josephine removed her cold finger from Opal’s chin and did a final scan around the room before giving a disapproving shake of her head, then leaving. Opal frowned at the mess of the room, not happy with it either. Her room was spacious, though, compared to her sister’s; a mess in one spot wouldn’t ruin her life.

Opal dragged her feet out of her room, bumping into Sarah Charm, who was wrapped in a hot pink towel. She shot Opal a disdainful gaze.

“Why you bumpin’ into me?” asked Sarah in a coarse tone.

“Just move,” snapped Opal.

 Opal’s seventeen-year-old sister Sarah looked more like her father than Josephine, with a light ochre complexion and bouncy, deep brown wavy curls that cascaded down to her upper back. Her flat nose was covered in sweat beads, as well as some dark marks. Opal remembered how Josephine always pointed out that Sarah’s features were all from David’s side: her defined apple cheeks, her thin eyebrows, and her bulging, hazel green eyes that currently scanned Opal’s school attire.

“Well, are you gonna move?” Opal asked.

“When you do,” Sarah sneered.

The two sisters glowered at each other, neither of them backing down. Finally, after a moment of miffed silence, Sarah shoved Opal aside, mumbling, “No time for this shit.”

 The smell of bacon greeted Opal when she reached the bottom step. The dining room had a large wooden refectory table, covered in a light green tablecloth, and eight wooden chairs with green vines decorated on the neck rest and armrests. Opal sat down and scrutinized her favorite breakfast meal.

Food is the only thing to get excited about in this house, she thought to herself. Food and sleep.

As she thought that, she let out an obnoxious yawn. Her father sat across from her, stirring sugar into his ginger tea.

“Aren’t you going to say good morning?” David forced himself to ask.

“Morning,” she grumbled.

 “What? Fix your face, please.”

“Good morning, Dad,” she said, feigning a quick smile at him then staring ravenously at her plate.

“Better.”                                                                                              

Forty-five-year-old David was sitting at the head of the table, sipping hot tea. His faded carob skin made him different than the rest of the family, although Sarah looked the most similar to him. Maybe that was why he acted like a stranger in his own house. Opal’s below average stature was the only inherited trait from David; everyone on Josephine’s side of the family was known for having long legs.

“Ready for school today?” he asked, putting down the mug.

He was drinking from the Best Dad mug Opal got him for Father’s Day three years ago.

He lost the right to drink from that mug a long time ago, she thought, then took a bite of the boiled egg before answering, “No.”

Opal winced as she chewed the piece of egg. Too salty. David always added too much salt to the eggs, and too much seasoning in general, whenever he cooked. He wasn’t mindful of the salty taste of the bacon, always worrying if he made the food too bland.

“Why aren’t you ready?”

“Because I don’t wanna go to school.”

“Hm.”

“Why can’t I go to a public school?”

“Why can’t you stay in a private school?” interrupted Josephine, who strolled into the dining room wearing business attire. “Are you turnin’ into the Antichrist?” she asked.

Josephine hardly had a sense of humor, so Opal never could tell when she was trying to crack a joke. Her mother sat down next to her husband and took a bite of bacon off his plate, keeping her eyes on Opal. David glared at his wife for a moment then gulped his tea quietly.

Why can’t I just go back to bed?  she wondered. It’s easier than dealing with these two.

“I’m not the Antichrist,” Opal replied in a gloomy tone.

To add to her lack of humor, Opal’s mother was a paranoid, religious woman who always assumed the worst of her daughters. If Opal were to stay late at school, her mother would immediately assume she was selling drugs, getting drugs, making drugs, or all of the above.

Josephine rolled her eyes, picked up the same bacon strip, and munched on it, unaware of the vexed look she was getting from David. Opal finished her eggs quickly then chewed the bacon strip slowly, savoring the charcoaled flavor.

“Why do Catholic schools open so early anyways?” complained Opal. “Public schools don’t open until next week.”

Josephine sighed. “I don’t know. Does it matter?”

“Hmm,” David said, pinching the bridge of his nose and staring at his mug of tea for words to put together. Opal was sure her father forced himself to make conversation almost every time they were together. She figured it pained him sometimes.

He grimaced then sighed deeply after unclenching his fists. “How’s Aaron?” he asked, scratching his unshaven goatee.

“I dunno,” answered Opal, trying to avoid this new and abrupt direction of the conversation. “I’m sure he’s fine.”

“He didn’t pass by all summer,” David continued as he reflected on Opal’s old friend. He sighed again then leaned back on the headrest with a drained expression. “Did you two get into a fight?”

Are you stupid? Do you know how long it’s been since he’s “passed by?” Why do you say the dumbest things in the world? Do you even live in the same house as me?

“We stopped talking. Three years ago,” replied Opal, toying with the butter knife in her hands.

Josephine pointed her finger at Opal as she reached for another one of David’s bacon strips. “Watch it,” she warned, hearing the attitude in Opal’s answer.

“Your breakfast is on the counter,” David said to Josephine. With a minor pout, she hurried into the kitchen, shoving the swinging door open. At the same time, Sarah hurried down the stairs and plopped right next to the grouchy Opal.

“Morning, Dad,” said Sarah in a cheery tone.

“Morning.” Opal assumed it was always easier for him to hold a conversation with Sarah. Despite her assumption, David grimaced for a second before saying, “Sleep well?”           

“Like a baby.”                                                                                     

Her sister was one of those people who could party all night and still get a good night’s sleep. She knew for a fact Sarah was partying late last night and didn’t go to bed until four in the morning. Opal was choking back her sobs around the time Sarah came in, and the last thing she needed was her drunk sister mocking her for crying.

Opal rose from the chair with a heavy grunt, leaving one last slice of bacon on the plastic plate.

“Okay, I’m off,” she said as she headed for the living room, where her blue messenger bag lay beside the loveseat. As she grabbed it and lifted the strap over her head, the pens and pencils, notebooks, and binders inside created some weight on her left shoulder.

“Be back after school,” her mother shouted from the kitchen.

Opal “forgot” to mention today was a half-day and all the students would get out at twelve o’clock. Being at home was the last place she wanted to be, unless she was sleeping.

 “See you,” said David in a casual tone.

“Bye,” was Opal’s last word to them as she headed for the door.  

It was going to be the start of another long, agonizing school year with stupid teachers, stupid boys, and stupid girls like Charlotte Loafer. Opal wished she’d never woke up this morning. Sleep always brought her to a realm free of puffy red eyes, anxieties, and salty breakfasts. She wanted to sleep longer than Sleeping Beauty did, and didn’t want to wake up to a true love’s kiss. She wanted to sleep until the world gave up on her.

The school looked grimmer when Opal had last seen it in June. Maybe it was just her imagination deceiving her, but the building began to resemble a castle fit for an evil queen—or in her case—an evil head nun. Four stories high, and with row after row of gaping hallways, Opal's school stood waiting for the impending storm of students. Below the school bell was the name Holy Grace forever engraved in the stone atop the brick wall. Holy Grace was the biggest Catholic school in the suburbs; it was also the most low budgeted. There wasn’t even a welcome back sign outside to create the façade that Holy Grace was a school that cared about its returning students.

Students waited in the school yard to go inside. Summer breezes eased the sweltering heat of the sun, trying to trick Opal into thinking it was still summer vacation. Despite the heat, students were talking animatedly about their summer activities, playing among themselves, and showing each other pictures on their cellphones. Envy was teeming within Opal’s eyes as students showed off their latest touchscreen smartphone; all she had was an ancient phone from 2003 that could be used for calling only. That’s what a phone’s supposed to be for, griped David when Opal begged him for a more updated one.

Opal walked into the open space, heading for the eighth graders spot by the miniature playground. She sighed as she spotted her classmates reuniting with each other. They’re all stupid, Opal silently grumbled. All they do is flirt and do stupid shit. Why am I even here? I should’ve ditched school like Sarah does.

When she spotted Aaron on the boys’ side of the schoolyard, a small portion of her heart pined for his company. An average-sized boy with amber skin, he wore his Holy Grace polo shirt and brown slacks while horsing around with the other eighth grade boys. His walnut hair was combed back, he looked strange when he was forced to do that with his hair; Opal knew that that was the opposite of what his hair usually looked like. He needs to get his pants tailored, too. They’re too long for his legs, observed Opal. Stop staring at him! She took her eyes off Aaron and made her way to the nine-foot fence that prevented anyone from escaping this horrid institution called “school.”

“Don’t you know how to say hi? Ha!” someone behind her tapped her shoulder. Opal winced at the sound of her nasally voice, facing the familiar girl. “Hi Alanna.” Opal did her best to put on her fake smile for the auburn pig-tailed girl. “How was your summer?”

“So great,” replied Alanna Damon with her pigtails bouncing as she nodded. “Tell me everything about yours, it’s been like forever, ha!”

Alanna liked to think that she was everyone’s friend. The reality was that she was a two-faced liar who made up rumors as a pastime. Opal was sure that every word she spewed was an exaggerated or untrue statement. “It was nice,” answered Opal.

            “What d’you do?”

“Nothing worth mentioning,” said Opal with a shrug.

Obviously bored with where the conversation was headed, Alanna waved to Opal and skipped to other students she in pursuit of today’s gossip. Opal leaned against the fence, watching the rest of the school get caught up in the first-day-of-school excitement. Her eyes couldn’t help but wander toward Aaron again, who was laughing and attempting to act like all those losers. The breeze felt nice against her face. It feels more like a beach day than a school day, she thought. I still wanna go back to sleep. The school bell’s shriek signaled the students to form a girl line and a boy line for their respective classes. As the roars of laughter and chatter calmed down, Opal waited second in line behind Kayla Amani, a quiet Korean girl who only talked to the boys in their class.

            “Good morning students. My name is Ms. Hollie, and I’m your eighth grade teacher. In this classroom, you do not talk, speak, whisper, or—hey! You with the glasses.”

            “Huh?”

            “Close your mouth when you yawn! I don’t need to see your cavities.”

Scattered snickers agitated the already irritable Ms. Hollie. “Be quiet! Now then, let’s have everyone seated.” As the teacher ordered the students to their seats, Opal dug in the back of her mind for knowledge about her new homeroom teacher. Strict, old, and loud were the first words that came to mind. Ms. Hollie had wrinkles like the scale model of the Grand Canyon, while her pasty skin made her look very unhealthy. She was wearing a long black skirt and black blouse—no frills attached. Even the other nuns added some flare to their plain robes, but not Ms. Hollie. She had been Opal’s English and math teacher last year; Ms. Hollie got her terrible reputation after she had kept one of the seventh graders for two weeks at summer school even though summer vacation had officially started and that the boy had to delay his family trip to the Bahamas. Opal heard rumors that he dropped his pen while Ms. Hollie was talking.

            When everyone was seated, she spent an hour talking about how she ran the class, what not to do, and why everyone needed to be quiet and still unless they were answering or asking a question. “I’m handing out a paper that everyone needs to fill in. It’s about you as a person. You will have ten minutes to fill it out, front and back,” spat the old grouch.

            “Ms. Hollie, what if I don’t have a pen? Do I still have to fill it out?” a female student named Felicia Taylor asked.

            “You should always be prepared for class,” replied Ms. Hollie as she counted the papers for each person in each row. “If you’re not, I’ll see you in detention.” Then she said to the first student in each row, “Pass them back.”                  

            Opal began filling the paper out as soon as she got it from the girl in front of her:

            Name: Opal Charm                                                               

            Age: 13

            Favorite subject: Social Studies

            Least favorite subject: Science

            Birthplace: Bronx, New York

            Brothers/Sisters (include ages): Sarah, 17. Jermaine, 17.

            What do you look forward to this year: Graduating ASAP.

She scratched out Jermaine, seventeen sloppily. She sighed quietly as her eyes went to the last line. Her last response would definitely invoke some comment from her teacher. “No,” whispered Opal as she scribbled out the last answer, then wrote on the next line: Doing my best in school.

“Who wants to go first?” asked Ms. Hollie, feigning interest.

            “Me!”

Charlotte Loafer stood up from her chair and strolled to the front of the class. Her light brown bangs were combed back and the rest of her blonde-highlighted hair was put in a high ponytail. No one was allowed to have hair in their faces. Nobody was allowed to have “unnatural hair colors” either, but Charlotte’s father, Dr. Loafer, was a generous donator to the school and therefore blonde highlights were Charlotte Loafer’s unnatural hair color. Her skirt was two inches above the knees, almost breaking the school restrictions on the length of skirts and jumpers. “My name is Charlotte Loafer. I am thirteen years old and I’m in the eighth grade-”

            “Obviously,” muttered Aaron from behind Opal. Opal snickered at his remark.

            “You girl! Hush,” said Ms. Hollie to Opal.

            “Don’t be rude,” chimed Charlotte. Opal rolled her eyes and sucked her teeth. On an average school day, Opal wouldn’t have said a word to Charlotte. Her goal last year was to avoid interaction with Charlotte completely, but that only encouraged Charlotte’s aggression toward her. Opal’s feud with Charlotte was a little spat that would go away in time, that was what Josephine would’ve said if Opal told her about Charlotte again. She had already approached her mother once about Charlotte, but was told Opal to ignore her; David hadn’t given any advice.

Charlotte wasn’t getting the best of Opal first thing in the morning. Opal wasn’t going to let that happen. “I apologize. Please keep going with the interesting details of your life,” Opal remarked.

            Charlotte scowled at Opal, then cleared her throat and continued, “My favorite subjects are mathematics, English—”

            “You had to list only one,” Ms. Hollie pointed out.

            “You should listen to the teacher more,” said Opal. Every sly statement from Opal strengthened her resolve to hurt Charlotte, no matter how passive aggressive they were. Charlotte spent the last three years hurting Opal and there wasn’t enough time for Opal to do the same unless they went to the same high school. But Charlotte would have a taste of her own medicine this year.

            Charlotte sighed irritably and folded her arms.                                                                                  “If I hear another word from you, you are staying after school today.” Ms. Hollie pointed at Opal. Her voice was raised, “Understand me?”

            “Yes Ms. Hollie,” she said, failing to hide her agitation.

“I have no least favorite subjects. I love them all,” Charlotte continued as if uninterrupted. Why did I have to get pimples over the summer and she didn’t, wondered Opal as she studied Charlotte’s smooth, bronze skin. And she wears contacts now? She really changed over the summer.

“Thank you for sharing that. Now sit.”

            Charlotte plopped right in front of Opal, watching her from the corner of one chestnut brown eye. The girls locked eyes until Ms. Hollie spoke. “You, behind Charlotte. Come up,” ordered Ms. Hollie.

            Opal rose with the paper in hand and walked to the front of the classroom. Her shoes made the clat noise against the wooden floor. She turned around to face the entire class. No new students this year. I recognize everyone, wondered Opal. The same stupid people from last year. Oh wait, who’s that?

“Speak!” barked Ms. Hollie.

Opal took her eyes off the unfamiliar student and obeyed, “My name is Opal Charm. I’m thirteen years old.” Charlotte’s hand shot up and Ms. Hollie pointed to her. “I can’t hear anything Opal’s saying and she’s making me tired,” she said smugly. Who cares about how tired you are? I’m exhausted and nobody’s giving me a blanket and a pillow. How old are you?

            “Opal, please sound livelier,” commanded Ms. Hollie. “And speak up.”

            Opal sighed irritably, trying her best to get through the forced introduction as quickly as she could. Something was beginning to constrict her throat. “My favorite subject—”

            “Ms. Hollie, I can’t understand what she’s saying. She’s going too fast,” one of Charlotte’s friends commented. Opal recognized her as Michelle Karp, a rosy-skinned, plump girl who started talking to Charlotte last year. Ms. Hollie rubbed her wrinkly temple with a serious expression. “Raise your hand next time.”

            “Ms. Hollie, I really can’t understand her either,” said another one of Charlotte’s friends, Clarence Rodríguez.

            “You heard the class, Ms. Charm.” It was the first hour and a half of school—Charlotte and her followers had already made themselves teacher’s pets, and were successfully making Opal regret waking up this morning. I shouldn’t have started a fight I couldn’t finish. Now I’m screwed, thought Opal. I hate them, I hate all of them. I wish this entire class would disappear. “My…favorite…subject…is—”             

            “Ms. Hollie?” Charlotte asked politely.

“What now Charlotte?”

“She is going way too slow.”

“You’re in the eighth grade right? You know how to read properly,” scolded Ms. Hollie. Opal scrunched the sides of the paper in fury, glancing to Aaron. He wasn’t her friend anymore, why did she think he was going to help her? He hated her, just like everyone else in the room. “Opal, keep reading. You’re embarrassing yourself.”

“My—” Opal choked back her angry sob while closing her eyes, unable to get anything more than a syllable out of her mouth. Everyone would disappear if she closed her eyes. Nobody but her would exist. Why was she dumb under pressure? Why couldn’t she stand her ground, keep a cool head, and ignore everyone? Opal opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling for the answers and then heard a shriek. Was that me? Opal asked herself. When her eyes followed the scream, a ghostly hand stretched from the wall and tightened its hold on Charlotte’s neck. The terrified on-looking students rose from their seats and scurried to the back of the room, only for more transparent hands to protrude from the walls and ensnare their throats. The hand picked up Charlotte and threw her out the window like a ragdoll while the rest of the class dangled in the air.

Opal dropped to the floor, wondering if she was actually causing all of this to happen. “Opal—Ms. Charm!” hacked Ms. Hollie as she stood in front of her desk and pointed her bony finger at her. Opal blinked and then turned back to the class. Everyone was seated in their desks, murmuring and watching her with curious, restless eyes. Charlotte turned to her friends, whispered something, and then they laughed together. As Opal wondered what happened to the transparent hands around their throats, she met Aaron’s eyes. He was the only one who wasn’t whispering something to his neighbor and probably the only one who looked seriously perturbed by Opal’s sudden petrification. Was it a dream? Could she have fallen asleep in the middle of her presentation? “Settle down now,” bellowed Ms. Hollie, quickly silencing the roar of chatter in the classroom. Opal was breathing fast, unsure if the hands were going to return, and paralyzed in horror as she remembered those ghostly hands. “You have detention today. You’ve done nothing but disrupt the class and disobey me—sit down in your seat now.”     

Opal quickly got up, unable to close her mouth to breath quietly. Her head was full of weights and she felt as if she was lying next to the sun; the one fan in the giant classroom might as well have been turned off. “If you’re having a problem, you can go to the nurse’s office,” said Ms. Hollie. Opal shook her head as she looked toward her teacher. “Don’t shake your head like a baby who can’t speak,” said Ms. Hollie brashly. “You’re going to be in high school next year.” She was more annoyed than concerned. Opal gulped and mustered up enough gumption to speak.

“I don’t need...to go to the nurse,” she replied as she returned to her desk. The murmurs quieted down when Opal slumped back and stared at the unbroken window and Charlotte's still-attached head. Thinking about it made her face flush with warmth. Opal never experienced a daydream that vivid, or a normal dream that intense. Did the humiliation and stress from Charlotte and Ms. Hollie cause her to think that horrible stuff? Was her mother right about her being the anti-Christ? Opal silently stared out the window, wishing she was running home and locking herself out from the world. I could die right now.

            “Ms. Hollie?”

“What now?” griped an exhausted Ms. Hollie.

“I would like to present,” a soft-spoken girl requested.

            “Come up,” said Ms. Hollie, showing some irritation in her voice after her episode with Opal. The girl’s shoes clamped against the wooden floor hastily. Opal was too embarrassed to turn her head to the front of the room, she still felt eyes glued to her.

“My name is Hope Adaire. I’m thirteen,” said the student formally. “My favorite subject is English and my least favorite is science. And I know I’m not allowed to add this, but I am a new student here. Nice to meet you all.”

            Something about her voice intrigued Opal. She turned to steal a glance at her, but she only saw the back of her stiff, soot-colored hair. The whispering intensified after the new student introduced herself. Opal’s classmates were still talking about Opal’s freak out, but most were focused on Hope. “Next time Ms. Adaire, stick to the guidelines,” said Ms. Hollie grumpily.

            “My apologies Ms. Hollie,” replied Hope civilly.

            “Thank you for those who volunteered, we’re done now. I have worksheets for everyone to work on. Hopefully, you kids didn’t forget everything over the summer. You need to be beyond your best this year. This year is all about pleasing the Catholic high schools, the real world. They don’t want rude, disobedient children who cause trouble and get poor grades. From the looks of it, most of you won’t even be graduating.”

            Ms. Hollie’s eyes never stopped staring at Opal during that speech.

The school looked grimmer when Opal had last seen it in June. Maybe it was just her imagination deceiving her, but the building began to resemble a castle fit for an evil queen—or in her case—an evil head nun. Four stories high, and with row after row of gaping hallways, Opal's school stood waiting for the impending storm of students. Below the school bell was the name Holy Grace forever engraved in the stone atop the brick wall. Holy Grace was the biggest Catholic school in the suburbs; it was also the most low budgeted. There wasn’t even a welcome back sign outside to create the façade that Holy Grace was a school that cared about its returning students.

Students waited in the school yard to go inside. Summer breezes eased the sweltering heat of the sun, trying to trick Opal into thinking it was still summer vacation. Despite the heat, students were talking animatedly about their summer activities, playing among themselves, and showing each other pictures on their cellphones. Envy was teeming within Opal’s eyes as students showed off their latest touchscreen smartphone; all she had was an ancient phone from 2003 that could be used for calling only. That’s what a phone’s supposed to be for, griped David when Opal begged him for a more updated one.

Opal walked into the open space, heading for the eighth graders spot by the miniature playground. She sighed as she spotted her classmates reuniting with each other. They’re all stupid, Opal silently grumbled. All they do is flirt and do stupid shit. Why am I even here? I should’ve ditched school like Sarah does.

When she spotted Aaron on the boys’ side of the schoolyard, a small portion of her heart pined for his company. An average-sized boy with amber skin, he wore his Holy Grace polo shirt and brown slacks while horsing around with the other eighth grade boys. His walnut hair was combed back, he looked strange when he was forced to do that with his hair; Opal knew that that was the opposite of what his hair usually looked like. He needs to get his pants tailored, too. They’re too long for his legs, observed Opal. Stop staring at him! She took her eyes off Aaron and made her way to the nine-foot fence that prevented anyone from escaping this horrid institution called “school.”

“Don’t you know how to say hi? Ha!” someone behind her tapped her shoulder. Opal winced at the sound of her nasally voice, facing the familiar girl. “Hi Alanna.” Opal did her best to put on her fake smile for the auburn pig-tailed girl. “How was your summer?”

“So great,” replied Alanna Damon with her pigtails bouncing as she nodded. “Tell me everything about yours, it’s been like forever, ha!”

Alanna liked to think that she was everyone’s friend. The reality was that she was a two-faced liar who made up rumors as a pastime. Opal was sure that every word she spewed was an exaggerated or untrue statement. “It was nice,” answered Opal.

            “What d’you do?”

“Nothing worth mentioning,” said Opal with a shrug.

Obviously bored with where the conversation was headed, Alanna waved to Opal and skipped to other students she in pursuit of today’s gossip. Opal leaned against the fence, watching the rest of the school get caught up in the first-day-of-school excitement. Her eyes couldn’t help but wander toward Aaron again, who was laughing and attempting to act like all those losers. The breeze felt nice against her face. It feels more like a beach day than a school day, she thought. I still wanna go back to sleep. The school bell’s shriek signaled the students to form a girl line and a boy line for their respective classes. As the roars of laughter and chatter calmed down, Opal waited second in line behind Kayla Amani, a quiet Korean girl who only talked to the boys in their class.

            “Good morning students. My name is Ms. Hollie, and I’m your eighth grade teacher. In this classroom, you do not talk, speak, whisper, or—hey! You with the glasses.”

            “Huh?”

            “Close your mouth when you yawn! I don’t need to see your cavities.”

Scattered snickers agitated the already irritable Ms. Hollie. “Be quiet! Now then, let’s have everyone seated.” As the teacher ordered the students to their seats, Opal dug in the back of her mind for knowledge about her new homeroom teacher. Strict, old, and loud were the first words that came to mind. Ms. Hollie had wrinkles like the scale model of the Grand Canyon, while her pasty skin made her look very unhealthy. She was wearing a long black skirt and black blouse—no frills attached. Even the other nuns added some flare to their plain robes, but not Ms. Hollie. She had been Opal’s English and math teacher last year; Ms. Hollie got her terrible reputation after she had kept one of the seventh graders for two weeks at summer school even though summer vacation had officially started and that the boy had to delay his family trip to the Bahamas. Opal heard rumors that he dropped his pen while Ms. Hollie was talking.

            When everyone was seated, she spent an hour talking about how she ran the class, what not to do, and why everyone needed to be quiet and still unless they were answering or asking a question. “I’m handing out a paper that everyone needs to fill in. It’s about you as a person. You will have ten minutes to fill it out, front and back,” spat the old grouch.

            “Ms. Hollie, what if I don’t have a pen? Do I still have to fill it out?” a female student named Felicia Taylor asked.

            “You should always be prepared for class,” replied Ms. Hollie as she counted the papers for each person in each row. “If you’re not, I’ll see you in detention.” Then she said to the first student in each row, “Pass them back.”                  

            Opal began filling the paper out as soon as she got it from the girl in front of her:

            Name: Opal Charm                                                               

            Age: 13

            Favorite subject: Social Studies

            Least favorite subject: Science

            Birthplace: Bronx, New York

            Brothers/Sisters (include ages): Sarah, 17. Jermaine, 17.

            What do you look forward to this year: Graduating ASAP.

She scratched out Jermaine, seventeen sloppily. She sighed quietly as her eyes went to the last line. Her last response would definitely invoke some comment from her teacher. “No,” whispered Opal as she scribbled out the last answer, then wrote on the next line: Doing my best in school.

“Who wants to go first?” asked Ms. Hollie, feigning interest.

            “Me!”

Charlotte Loafer stood up from her chair and strolled to the front of the class. Her light brown bangs were combed back and the rest of her blonde-highlighted hair was put in a high ponytail. No one was allowed to have hair in their faces. Nobody was allowed to have “unnatural hair colors” either, but Charlotte’s father, Dr. Loafer, was a generous donator to the school and therefore blonde highlights were Charlotte Loafer’s unnatural hair color. Her skirt was two inches above the knees, almost breaking the school restrictions on the length of skirts and jumpers. “My name is Charlotte Loafer. I am thirteen years old and I’m in the eighth grade-”

            “Obviously,” muttered Aaron from behind Opal. Opal snickered at his remark.

            “You girl! Hush,” said Ms. Hollie to Opal.

            “Don’t be rude,” chimed Charlotte. Opal rolled her eyes and sucked her teeth. On an average school day, Opal wouldn’t have said a word to Charlotte. Her goal last year was to avoid interaction with Charlotte completely, but that only encouraged Charlotte’s aggression toward her. Opal’s feud with Charlotte was a little spat that would go away in time, that was what Josephine would’ve said if Opal told her about Charlotte again. She had already approached her mother once about Charlotte, but was told Opal to ignore her; David hadn’t given any advice.

Charlotte wasn’t getting the best of Opal first thing in the morning. Opal wasn’t going to let that happen. “I apologize. Please keep going with the interesting details of your life,” Opal remarked.

            Charlotte scowled at Opal, then cleared her throat and continued, “My favorite subjects are mathematics, English—”

            “You had to list only one,” Ms. Hollie pointed out.

            “You should listen to the teacher more,” said Opal. Every sly statement from Opal strengthened her resolve to hurt Charlotte, no matter how passive aggressive they were. Charlotte spent the last three years hurting Opal and there wasn’t enough time for Opal to do the same unless they went to the same high school. But Charlotte would have a taste of her own medicine this year.

            Charlotte sighed irritably and folded her arms.                                                                                  “If I hear another word from you, you are staying after school today.” Ms. Hollie pointed at Opal. Her voice was raised, “Understand me?”

            “Yes Ms. Hollie,” she said, failing to hide her agitation.

“I have no least favorite subjects. I love them all,” Charlotte continued as if uninterrupted. Why did I have to get pimples over the summer and she didn’t, wondered Opal as she studied Charlotte’s smooth, bronze skin. And she wears contacts now? She really changed over the summer.

“Thank you for sharing that. Now sit.”

            Charlotte plopped right in front of Opal, watching her from the corner of one chestnut brown eye. The girls locked eyes until Ms. Hollie spoke. “You, behind Charlotte. Come up,” ordered Ms. Hollie.

            Opal rose with the paper in hand and walked to the front of the classroom. Her shoes made the clat noise against the wooden floor. She turned around to face the entire class. No new students this year. I recognize everyone, wondered Opal. The same stupid people from last year. Oh wait, who’s that?

“Speak!” barked Ms. Hollie.

Opal took her eyes off the unfamiliar student and obeyed, “My name is Opal Charm. I’m thirteen years old.” Charlotte’s hand shot up and Ms. Hollie pointed to her. “I can’t hear anything Opal’s saying and she’s making me tired,” she said smugly. Who cares about how tired you are? I’m exhausted and nobody’s giving me a blanket and a pillow. How old are you?

            “Opal, please sound livelier,” commanded Ms. Hollie. “And speak up.”

            Opal sighed irritably, trying her best to get through the forced introduction as quickly as she could. Something was beginning to constrict her throat. “My favorite subject—”

            “Ms. Hollie, I can’t understand what she’s saying. She’s going too fast,” one of Charlotte’s friends commented. Opal recognized her as Michelle Karp, a rosy-skinned, plump girl who started talking to Charlotte last year. Ms. Hollie rubbed her wrinkly temple with a serious expression. “Raise your hand next time.”

            “Ms. Hollie, I really can’t understand her either,” said another one of Charlotte’s friends, Clarence Rodríguez.

            “You heard the class, Ms. Charm.” It was the first hour and a half of school—Charlotte and her followers had already made themselves teacher’s pets, and were successfully making Opal regret waking up this morning. I shouldn’t have started a fight I couldn’t finish. Now I’m screwed, thought Opal. I hate them, I hate all of them. I wish this entire class would disappear. “My…favorite…subject…is—”             

            “Ms. Hollie?” Charlotte asked politely.

“What now Charlotte?”

“She is going way too slow.”

“You’re in the eighth grade right? You know how to read properly,” scolded Ms. Hollie. Opal scrunched the sides of the paper in fury, glancing to Aaron. He wasn’t her friend anymore, why did she think he was going to help her? He hated her, just like everyone else in the room. “Opal, keep reading. You’re embarrassing yourself.”

“My—” Opal choked back her angry sob while closing her eyes, unable to get anything more than a syllable out of her mouth. Everyone would disappear if she closed her eyes. Nobody but her would exist. Why was she dumb under pressure? Why couldn’t she stand her ground, keep a cool head, and ignore everyone? Opal opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling for the answers and then heard a shriek. Was that me? Opal asked herself. When her eyes followed the scream, a ghostly hand stretched from the wall and tightened its hold on Charlotte’s neck. The terrified on-looking students rose from their seats and scurried to the back of the room, only for more transparent hands to protrude from the walls and ensnare their throats. The hand picked up Charlotte and threw her out the window like a ragdoll while the rest of the class dangled in the air.

Opal dropped to the floor, wondering if she was actually causing all of this to happen. “Opal—Ms. Charm!” hacked Ms. Hollie as she stood in front of her desk and pointed her bony finger at her. Opal blinked and then turned back to the class. Everyone was seated in their desks, murmuring and watching her with curious, restless eyes. Charlotte turned to her friends, whispered something, and then they laughed together. As Opal wondered what happened to the transparent hands around their throats, she met Aaron’s eyes. He was the only one who wasn’t whispering something to his neighbor and probably the only one who looked seriously perturbed by Opal’s sudden petrification. Was it a dream? Could she have fallen asleep in the middle of her presentation? “Settle down now,” bellowed Ms. Hollie, quickly silencing the roar of chatter in the classroom. Opal was breathing fast, unsure if the hands were going to return, and paralyzed in horror as she remembered those ghostly hands. “You have detention today. You’ve done nothing but disrupt the class and disobey me—sit down in your seat now.”     

Opal quickly got up, unable to close her mouth to breath quietly. Her head was full of weights and she felt as if she was lying next to the sun; the one fan in the giant classroom might as well have been turned off. “If you’re having a problem, you can go to the nurse’s office,” said Ms. Hollie. Opal shook her head as she looked toward her teacher. “Don’t shake your head like a baby who can’t speak,” said Ms. Hollie brashly. “You’re going to be in high school next year.” She was more annoyed than concerned. Opal gulped and mustered up enough gumption to speak.

“I don’t need...to go to the nurse,” she replied as she returned to her desk. The murmurs quieted down when Opal slumped back and stared at the unbroken window and Charlotte's still-attached head. Thinking about it made her face flush with warmth. Opal never experienced a daydream that vivid, or a normal dream that intense. Did the humiliation and stress from Charlotte and Ms. Hollie cause her to think that horrible stuff? Was her mother right about her being the anti-Christ? Opal silently stared out the window, wishing she was running home and locking herself out from the world. I could die right now.

            “Ms. Hollie?”

“What now?” griped an exhausted Ms. Hollie.

“I would like to present,” a soft-spoken girl requested.

            “Come up,” said Ms. Hollie, showing some irritation in her voice after her episode with Opal. The girl’s shoes clamped against the wooden floor hastily. Opal was too embarrassed to turn her head to the front of the room, she still felt eyes glued to her.

“My name is Hope Adaire. I’m thirteen,” said the student formally. “My favorite subject is English and my least favorite is science. And I know I’m not allowed to add this, but I am a new student here. Nice to meet you all.”

            Something about her voice intrigued Opal. She turned to steal a glance at her, but she only saw the back of her stiff, soot-colored hair. The whispering intensified after the new student introduced herself. Opal’s classmates were still talking about Opal’s freak out, but most were focused on Hope. “Next time Ms. Adaire, stick to the guidelines,” said Ms. Hollie grumpily.

            “My apologies Ms. Hollie,” replied Hope.

            “Thank you for those who volunteered, we’re done now. I have worksheets for everyone to work on. Hopefully, you kids didn’t forget everything over the summer. You need to be beyond your best this year. This year is all about pleasing the Catholic high schools, the real world. They don’t want rude, disobedient children who cause trouble and get poor grades. From the looks of it, most of you won’t even be graduating.”

            Ms. Hollie’s eyes never stopped staring at Opal during that speech.