You can imagine how we all felt after that little incident.
The fact that she's the leaving the same day as Mrs Mitzeegh AND is, to be honest, sketchy, we shamelessly added her into our theories this morning. But, of course, all in good fun, so I decided to not make her a murderer. For now, Jada and I will just stick to the fact that our History teacher just has the soul of a teenage boy.
"Hi girls," she gives us a small smile as we approach her. The first thing I notice is how tired she looks. Behind her foggy glasses, her eyes are sunken and dark, her eyebrows unruly. Her hair is somewhat neat but looks like it's been brushed in 5 seconds flat. Clothing is alright...Maybe she's just going through a tough time...
STOP psychoanalysing. What are you doing?
I snap out of my trance just as I hear her speak.
"You girls need anything?"
"Oh no, we're just here to hand in our assignment." Marianne says, as she puts her essay in front of her and beckons me to do the same.
"Oh, thank you!" she exclaims, as if we'd just returned her car keys or something. "You know, I can always rely on you two. If the whole class was like you, I'd have nothing to worry about." She gleams at us.
I smile back. Honestly, this is something we get every day, but I'm not going to complain, it's nice to hear it once again. Especially from someone like Ms Katarina, who barely speaks to us each lesson.
The lesson progresses as normal, with people running around everywhere, trying to add something of their own to the pile at the front of the classroom. The hands on the clock tick, Ms Katarina gets up from her desk for the millionth time, and the pile of papers slowly rise upwards like a demolished house being rebuilt. Towards the end of the lesson, Jada comes and visits my very sad and lonely corner of the classroom. By now, the classroom is almost empty, and the remaining kids are slowly packing up their bags, getting ready for lunch.
Jada and I talk for a while, until her phone rings, abruptly and very rudely interrupting our conversation.
Her eyes widen in surprise. Quickly shoving her hand inside her pocket, she pulls it out, quietens it and puts it to her ear. Looking around, no one's really noticed, or maybe they just don't care. Ms Katarina is nowhere to be seen in the room.
"Hello?" she says. Then, almost seconds later she adds, "No, I'm in class, can't talk to you right now."
She pauses for a quick moment. "Alright, at six? Same place? Ok, cool. Bye." She hangs up.
"Who was that?" I ask as she places her phone away.
"Oh, just Drew. He – well, his parents - have invited my family and I over to his house tonight for dinner."
"Ah, I see." I giggle. Jada knows exactly why.
"Ha ha, very funny." She rolls her eyes. "We're. Just. Family. Friends."
"Yeah, don't I know." I smirk, and I get a shove back for that remark.
∞
He slides the phone off his ear. There is no one around, well, no one other than the one dark figure behind the door. He'd been following him around all day, making sure the plans were going right.
"I can still see you, Brighton," he says, as if it wasn't already obvious that he was being watched. Drew could almost hear the smirk in his voice, and suddenly it made him sick to his stomach. This guy was too creepy to be with even for a couple of minutes.
"I did it," Drew croaks out. "Tonight. By the lake."
"I'll bring all my friends." The boy stands outside for a bit, then Drew watches as his footsteps get lighter and lighter until he leaves the block.
Drew breathes a sigh of relief but doesn't move until he's certain the boy has disappeared.
∞
I feel great.
Not only on the inside, but on the outside as well. I'm talking, laughing and lounging, completely happy and stress-free. There's a whole selection of fancy food laid out in front of me, ready to be indulged in. All my friends and family, everyone I love, is surrounding me, smiling. Everything looks white, kind of blurry and angelic, the whole room glowing with a brilliant radiance.
Everything is just...perfect.
But not for long.
Sudden darkness envelops my vision and I drop to the ground, as if some invisible force had knocked me over and was now pinning me to the ground. The sounds of the other people chatting are gone, replaced by one single monotone voice. It sounds robotic, or heavily autotuned. It sounds like it belongs to a young boy.
The sound reverberates around the room, and for some reason it remains but a loud noise – I can't decipher what's he's saying at all. When I try harder, all I can hear are muffled, gargled sounds, like my hearing's been distorted. It's like I'm underwater. As I strain my ears to listen even harder, the noise finally begins to fade, and I can hear a booming voice, chanting some sort of mantra in a sing-song voice.
"The K&K make 'em or break 'em. They try and fight us, but they can't find us. The CSS is breaking apart. They'll never stop us. Ha!"
The boy laughs. I shudder, the manic noise sending chills down my spine.
"Ha...ha! But wait! They've found out. Teens have found out. Our plans have been FOILED!"
"They have no idea what they've stepped into. It's just a matter of gossip to them. They probably won't do anything. But if they do, if the CSS convince them to help them, we'll be waiting. They can't stop us..."
As he says the last part, his once booming voice begins to fade away quieter and quieter. My surroundings begin to light up and as I strain my neck, I can just make out his small figure, about 10 metres from where I'm standing. I watch as he freezes in his spot as I muster enough strength to clamber off the floor.
This time another voice starts talking, but it’s soft, controlled, and comes from directly behind me.
Nothing is ever as it seems.
The ground beneath me opens and before I can even breathe, I'm falling.
I'm falling and there's no end to it, nothing beneath my feet. I open my mouth to scream but no sound comes out. My heart pounds violently against my ribcage, threatening to escape my chest. In desperation, I fling my arms around to try and find a ledge or something to grab on, but no avail.
I meet the ground soon after with an uncomfortable crash. Gasping, I look around to find myself at the bottom of what seems like a long rectangular well that's so narrow, my elbows graze the edges and my nose is inches away from the wall. Suddenly, my heart clenches as claustrophobia runs through my blood.
To my horror, I realise that the well is filling up with water.
Fast.
I feel it sloshing up to my ankles. Then my knees. Waist. Shoulders. Soon, wait, now, I'm treading water. I thrust my arms upwards and bend my neck so all I can see is the opening at the top. My legs are flailing helplessly against the water, my toes hitting the walls. To my relief, the water propels me upwards, and I'm floating.
But I'm headed towards a closed roof.
This time I panic for real. I don't know what to do, until I see a small engraving on the wall.
Put one hand above your head.
I waste no time, and just as my head goes under, I'm on dry land again on my own two feet. I'm holding someone's hand.
I look up. It's Damon.
But before I can react, I'm moving. Again.
The air whirls around my me like a small tornado, and one by one I see small visions flash in front of me before disappearing into the middle spiral. At first, I see a lot of specific people. I see Mrs Renee, my English teacher. Then I see Damon, who asks me 'Alessia, do you have a ruler?' and chuckles. I see Mrs Mitzeegh, who mouths 'Help' to me, one arm extended outwards.
The tornado spins with a rigorous intensity and blurs to reveal more visions. I see a long line of teenagers tied up against a silver wall, some of whom I recognise from school. Squinting, I recognise Parker, Isobelle, Jo and Violet, all sporty kids from my HPE class. I watch as Shayleigh, one of the girls, who's not really part of that clique, breaking free of her restraints and running. Escaping.
The vision disappears, and I s
ee Amelia, one of my friends, fall into a black hole, her eyes staring deeply into mine. Before I can react, it changes again and I see Ms Katarina, who just stares at me with sad eyes. Then, PowerPoints and readings on topics I've been learning at school so far flash before my eyes, like the Pythagoras Theorem in Maths, poetry in English, conscription in WW1 from History.
My mind spins and my knees start to buckle beneath me. But before I fall, everything flashes white, and I'm on normal ground again.
I'm standing on grass. In a normal park. Drenched top to bottom in water, and shivering.
But I'm standing.
Next to Jada. Jessie.
And Drew.
"What just happened!" I yell, but as I do it dawns on me that this could all be fake.
Drew looks at us all, his face dead serious.
"It's the conspiracy." he says.
And then he disappears, in a cloud of black smoke.
3.
"So we're sure that we all saw this dream?"
"Yes, Alessia," says Jada, a little exasperated. "I know it's weird, but I trust that you guys are not pulling my leg and we have all just recounted the exact same dream. Same scenes and all."
"But..."
"Alessia, it's true." Says Jessie, eyeing me nervously and trying to change the subject. "And you," she says, turning to Drew, "reckon it's a message of some sort."
"Yes," he says. "What you guys thought up that day, that day in Mrs Mitzeegh's maths classroom, is more-or-less correct."
I open my mouth to object, but I find that I am finally lost for words.
"So... there’s a secret organisation of teachers-"
"SHHH!"
"Sorry!" exclaims Jada, a little shocked. "I'm just trying to-
"I know, I know," he sighs and looks down, and we all stare at him until he speaks again. "This is all I'll tell you. To put it simply, yes, there are organisations, of teachers, and yes, there is tension between the different groups. So yes, there is a..." he lowers his voice to almost a whisper, so quiet I almost miss it, "conspiracy."
"Okay," says Jessie, carefully picking her words, I can tell. "And who is in the group you are in?"
He suddenly jerks his head upwards, as if someone had pinched him out of the blue, but calmly answers. "Mrs Renee."
"As in our English teacher?" remarks Jessie, frowning.
At that exact moment, as if we had summoned her, Mrs Renee walks past our little group, simultaneously balancing her laptop and a huge pile of papers in her arms. She pushes the door open with her side before walking inside, leaving the door wide open.
I watch the door waver in the wind, threatening to slam closed, before Jada asks a question.
"Are people in danger?"
Four words, but honestly all I want to know after having nightmarish visions of my friends, classmates and teachers in places they aren't supposed to be in. If Drew was convinced our theories were true, did that mean people were actually in trouble?
"All those people tied up...they were from here..." Jessie protests when Drew says nothing for a while.
"All those teachers," Jada continues. "It's like what we thought up of in maths, but worse."
"It's exactly that," he finally breaks his silence. We all look up at him in shock. I don’t want to believe him, and I wouldn't until we had more proof, more evidence. And definitely, a better idea of what was real and what wasn't. But still, the dream had shaken me up, and if it was even somewhat real...
I pull down the arms of my jumper so that they cover my hands too. We all sit in ominous silence, drowning in our own thoughts, before Drew abruptly jumps up and leaves without a single word.
Jada opens her mouth and looks over to his darting figure, an act that indicates she wants to say something, or otherwise run after him, but she does nothing and lets him go.
"Jada, in all seriousness," starts Jessie (Jada and I both brace ourselves because we know whatever she’s going to comment is not going to be serious at all) "did he hit his head too hard on the dinner table last night?"
"That's what I was thinking," she says, a dreamy look in her eyes, and both Jessie and I give her weird looks. "No-I mean- he was acting strange last night too. I mean, it could've been because our parents were there, but it was a different kind of weird, like he knew something he shouldn't, like he's about to do something he shouldn't..."
The three of us are quiet, none of us knowing quite what to say. Jessie's mouth opens and closes – even someone like her is lost for words.
"But you guys don't really believe that the dreams are real, right?" I say, and Jada and Jessie look up at me "Well, I know they're supposed to reflect your subconscious thoughts, so how do we know that we didn't all just had this dream because all three of us were making these weird theories in class yesterday and we just happened to be thinking about it?"
"Because Drew," says Jada, crossing her arms. "He knew about our theories to the tiniest detail, and I swear to you guys I had not spoken a word to him about them."
"And also, because we had IDENTICAL dreams. Like, frame to frame." says Jessie. "Like that is super creepy. There is literally no good explanation for that other than the fact that maybe we were triplets in another life-"
"Yeah, nah," I say, stopping Jessie. She shakes her head, in disbelief and confusion, then reaches towards Jada. "Call him," says Jessie, grabbing her phone. "Or, email Mrs Renee."
"No," I say. The two of them stop and look towards me, obviously expecting some sort of master plan. I don't have one, but I make my suggestion sound as professional as I can anyway. "We just need to wait. If Drew really believes this, then maybe there's something going on."
"A conspiracy?" Jessie raises her eyebrow and looks at me in disbelief.
"Well, probably not. I say, let's just act as if the dream didn't happen, and let's just pretend Drew just spilled all this information to us unprompted. So basically, there are two, or more, groups of teachers who are fighting against each other, and some students are caught in the crossfire."
"Crossfire - as in, just verbal arguments or physical danger?" Asks Jada, and I sigh.
"No idea. But what are we supposed to do? Go to the police? We know nothing."
I take a deep breath before continuing.
"So, if he expects something from us, he'll tell us, and we'll see him anyway very soon, so we'll just confront him then. Also, Jessie and I have English second period. Drew's in that class, but so is Mrs Renee. We can feed two birds with one scone."
"Yeah, I'm in," says Jada, while Jessie nods. "I mean, it's not like we can help unless we know the specifics about what's actually going on."
"Exactly," says Jessie, and nods.
"Man," I breathe. "I really don't want to believe this, but..."
"It just doesn't make sense?"
"Yeah," I nod, looking at Jessie.
Jada packs up her things, putting her phone in her front pocket. She sighs and says, "Let's just go to class. We have two minutes."
∞
As I'm heading to English, I think about Mrs Renee and this entire situation. I just can't seem to stop thinking about it. None of it makes sense, and it feels a lot like we've been unfairly pulled into something that doesn't concern us. Still, I'm worried. Why are people in danger? Is the fighting between the different groups of teachers really that intense? And why are students in danger? And... the dream...Amelia...and Damon? I know we're pretending the dream didn't happen...but it did...and it was so vivid too...
Pondering on thoughts a little too intensely, I don't notice as I bump into something large and physical. I'm thrown of balance and my phone flies out of my hand in impact.
I gasp a little and look up to see Damon. I gasp again.
Well, this is awkward.
"Oh my gosh," I say, as he leaps for my phone before it clatters down the stairs to its terrible fate. "Sorry."
"No, I'm sorry," he says, handing me back my phone. A flicker of recognition flashes in his eyes. He waits for a moment,
then smiles and says, "See you in maths,"
The Conspiracy Theory of June 17 Page 2