(Freaking) Perfect Class

 (There is no such a thing as a perfect class, right? Kids are too different to make a perfect union. If there ever existed a perfect class, it wouldn´t be quite normal... and what if an outsider came?)

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„Class, welcome our new student. This is Monica.”

„Hello, Monica, welcome to our school!”

Monica, the new girl in question, timidly raised her hand and waved. How many times has she already been in this situation? Dozens at least. She was used to taking a seat next to a complete stranger and leaving it forever before getting to know her school desk neighbor. Usually she would be watched by twenty or so curious pairs of eyes, students would form groups and stat whispering predictions about her. She never stayed in one class enough time for them to confirm or negate their assumptions. However, nobody seemed to give her any attention now.

This class consisted of less students than others she passed through during her dynamc ten years of changing schools. She counted seven girls and eight boys. After loud mutual greeting, everyone concentrated on the blackboard. Monica didn´t even try to follow their example. It wasn´t the beginning of the year, but the middle of October, and all the professors have long since started their lessons. She had some notes from her last school with her, but every professor practiced different teaching methods. They were of no use to her.

„How was first day?”, her father asked her when she came home in the evening.

Although they constantly moved, Monica lived in the same place her whole life. However, she never lived in a house. She lived with her parents and pet hamster in a trailer connected to her father´s small van. When she was a kid, she thought that other children missed all the real fun because they lived in normal houses. First years of her life were all about games and play. When she was four years old, she and her father painted their truck so it resembled van which Scooby-Doo gang drove in. It seemed cool then, but nowadays she hated moving from one place to another. She never had enough time to make friends and her grades were terrible.

„As always”, she answered, „lame.”

During lunch break, her classmates gathered in a large group. Normally, groups of friends would separate, but her new colleagues stuck together. She was the only outsider. They occupied the largest table in the canteen. Nobody who didn´t belong to their class dared approach them. Monica sat alone in the hallway, on a bench next to the Chemistry laboratory where her net class was taking place, thinking how she ended up in a class filled with freaks. That wasn´t necessarily bad. She might end up liking them after meeting them. Sadly, that was not possible.

„It will get better.”

She sat next to her father on an old couch. Iron wires piercing the lining stabed her in the butt and legs. They couldn´t afford new furniture. On the screen of a small television from the early 2000s Ghostbusters were chasing huge transparent creature in a building caught on fire. Her father handed her bowl with apples, last ones they managed to steal from their neighbor´s courtyard before moving away.

„Folks are strange”, commented Monica.

„Aren´t we all?”, her father answered, always a pshylosopher.

„Anyway”, she rolled her eyes, „where´s mom?”

„Around. Shopping and stuff. Selling and stuff.”

Monica knew what that meant; her mother was making a bargain. This was what her parents did for a living. They found someone to trade with and then sold their products for a higher price. The necessity of migration was caused by police. If they stayed in one place for too long, policemen would discover their illegal work. Her parents sold all kinds of things local people would give them. Those same local people were usually poor people without money, so they´d give them stuff they easily sold on the black market. But what they got in exchange was even darker than the black market their stuff ended up selling on. Monica´s parents were drug dealers. Sometimes they´d get pure money for marijuana and ecstasy, but usually drug addicts had no money for that except if they happened to be rich people.

Her mother came in. She was carrying a big packet in her hands. She landed it in front of her daughter and husband. Then she sighed, reached into the left pocket of her jeans and threw some paper money on man´s lap. From her other pocket she pulled out crumpled weed cigar and lighted it.

„Not inside!”, Monica´s father complained.

„Give me a rest”, her mother answered, „I need to calm down. This was a rough one! The guy wanted to give me a broken chair in exchange for a kilo of marijuana! Said ´t was vintage.” She spit on the floor. „´ad to negotiate for an hour before he admitted ´t was worthless and gave me the money instead. Stingy idiot!”

„And the box?”, Monica asked.

„´t was from another customer. Fancy lamp. Secession.” Once upon a time, Monica´s mum got a master degree in history of art. „Poor guy, last thing left from his rich grandparents. They´d cry their eyes out if they saw what their successor has fallen to.”

Monica´s had enough of drug-business talk. She loved her parents. They were good people, actually, and they did a damned good job raising her. The fact was they worked really hard in order to earn the money they needed as a family. And even though they sold drugs, they never used them. Except a bit of weed, but Monica tried it and it wasn´t a big deal if you stuck to your boundaries.

She stretched her bed on the floor, put earphones on and took her sketching book. She was good at drawing. After every sketch, she´d give it to her mother for control. Her mother would use her expertise to give her an honest critique. Monica would then fix the drawing. When and if it was good enough, her mother would buy her a canvas to turn little sketch into a big painting. Once or twice her parents managed to sell her work together with some stuff they got in exchange for weed. It didn´t raise the price much, but every coin was valuable and Monica was proud of herself. She daydreamed about selling her paintings for a higher price one day.

She fell asleep with notebook on her chest and pencil in her grip. As soon as she lost the command of her thoughts, strange images formed in her head. As if she was astral projecting, Monica saw herself from a higher perspective. Her other self didn´t seem to notice anyone watching her. She was sitting on the grey tiled floor with her legs in the so-called butterfly pose. She was alone and at peace until dark figures approached. They seemed like shadows. A light of an unknown source fell on one of them. Monica recognized this person; it was one of her new classmates!

The girl has long wavy blonde hair and pale skin. Her clothes were in the style of a professional office worker. However, there was one peculiar thing about this girl. She was wearing sunglasses. Monica saw her wearing them inside the school, too, as if she was blind, but her behavior wasn´t of a blind person. Glass was very dark and frames extremely white. The result of this combination was an exquisite contrast on her face.

Shadows led by the girl with the glasses spread their arms towards the second Monica. They held them just a few centimeters above her head and started moving their fingers as if putting a spell on her. After some time, Monica´s hair started falling of. She opened her mouth and showed the meat receding – her teeth fell out. The skin was drying out, the bones began to protrude and eventually pierced the surface. It ended with her eyeballs jumping out from the sockets. Lifeless body fell on the floor.

Monica suddenly woke up. The sound of pencil falling next to her bed scared her. She shivered and got up. She was very hungry, but the picture the dreams brought her minimized her appetite. It was dark. Her parents were fast asleep.

„Silly me”, she said to herself, „I should really try to get along with others in my class. Then maybe I wouldn´t think of them as of deadly spellcasters.”

The morning came, but the rest of the night brought Monica no rest. Nervousness overcame her. She became decisive about putting all her effort into meeting new people. She plotted how to do it and came up with absolutely nothing. Her ideas were trash. She ended up sketching. She drew the girl with the white glasses. She didn´t capture her face good enough to draw her realistically, so she made up little details she wasn´t sure about.

Tired and feeling hopeless, she entered the class head-down. She sat in the back. She still had a few minutes before the teacher would come, so she took her sketchbook from her bag and opened the page on which she drew the girl with glasses. Her reflexes were slowed down by the weariness, so she reacted slowly when a shadow hovered over her desk. Her hands automatically closed the book. She was surrounded by her classmates. She counted; everyone gathered around her. Two boys moved aside to allow someone to stand opposite Monica.

It was the girl she drew. She had a big smile on her face, almost like one of those old dolls, and was holding a notebook in her arms. It reminded Monica of how she sometimes held her own sketchbook. Was this girl also an artist? Was this her weird kind of asking about their common interest?

„Hello, Monica”, girl´s voice sounded like a robot´s, but also very kind. „How are you? My name is Lucy. Here you go.” She handed her the notebook without letting her.

Monica took what was given to her, but hesitated to open it. „Gee, thanks a bunch... What is it?”

„Oh, just sign on the page with your name.”

„My name?” She flipped through the notebook. On every page there was a nname written in a careful calligraphy. Next to every name was a glued photo. Informations about everyone in her class were recorded in this book. Her eyes caught some parts of the texts. After details about birth, facts were strange and random. Mike, guy with curly hair who stood beside Lucy, was apparently very fond of Nutella-Peanut butter sandwiches. Sandra, chubby short girl in the front had a history of owning pet mice. Monica, who took care of a hamster herself, wondered what happened to all the mice who died while living under Sandra´s care. Exact dates of their birth and death were listed in the notebook. Morbid in the least. It was not the only morbid thing in the notebook. Xavier, freckled boy who wore at least two sizes too big shirt apparently specialized in killing birds by throwing stones at them. He was a pretty good runner, too.

„Why?”, Monica asked, troubled by the information she read.

„Because”, Lucy said and didn´t continue. They all watched her. Kindness with which they approached her diluted. The pressure they put on her became obvious. This was important to them.

Monica shrugged her shoulders. „Fine.” She left her messy signature under two neatly words which reserve the page for her. „Do I need to add something? Birthday or...”

„It is not necessary”, Lucy said and took the book from Monica´s sight. „Well done.”

The bell rang and a bunch of teenagers moved away from Monica and sat on their chairs. The praise continued hanging in Monica´s mind. What was she exactly praise for? Leaving a signature?

The weird situation repeated during lunch break. Her classmates formed a circle around Monica, so she couldn´t see a thing behind them. She became anxious. She wanted to meet new people, but this didn´t seem ike the most normal of the ways to befriend someone.

„Hello”, Monica´s voice sounded once again. „You are alone. You should join us. We all sit together.”

„Sure.” She approached one of the wooden tables. Her classmates´ eyebrows raised. Some of them even hissed. Monica shivered and turned from the table. „What´s wrong? Do you prefer another table?”

„As a matter of fact, yes.” Was Lucy their spokesperson? „And I´m usually the first one to sit. Remember that.” She finished with a forced smile and turned toward the same table they sat at the day before. When Monica caught up with them, there was no place left for her to seat. „Shame”, Lucy said, „do you mind standing?”

Monica knew they were pulling her leg. She didn´t need this kind of friends. „I think I´ll find a place for myself somewhere else.”

Sandra squeezed tetrapack of juice she was holding. Boys hissed and Lucy´s head jerked. „What?”

„I sad I´ll find an empty spot to sit elsewhere.” Monica had enough squabbling. She didn´t get these guys. What was all the fuss about? They invited her, then neglected her. It was only natural she would refuse to play their games. „Bye.” It was weird for everyone in class to hang out together all the time. She knew they were strange as soon as she didn´t notice any groups. Every ordinary class divides into groups of friends.

After school, she headed off straight home. However, two boys from her class stopped her. They appeared out of nowhere and took a stand in front of her.

„Do you mind?”, she asked them. They looked gloomy. She was scared, but hid it well.

„Lucy sends her greetings”, one of them said in a weird toneless voice. „You have been invited to a group gathering in the forest tomorrow after school.”

„Group gathering? Everyone from the class I suppose.”

They blinked at the same time as if confused by her question.

„Count me out”, she said and passed them, hoping that she won´t hear their steps following her. She heard nothing. She turned her head for a moment. They were standing where she left them, imprisoned by perplexion.

Neither Lucy nor anyone else approached her in the following days. The truth was sit gave her no relief. She felt as if Lucy was always on the lookout for her. Even when she had her back turned towards Monica, it felt as if she registered her every move. Monica was frightened by the thought that the girl with glasses might have seen the drawing of herself in the sketchbook. After the last bell rang, Monica would hurry to exit the school and avoid anyone from her class. The more time she spent in this school, the more she noticed their strange behavior. They stuck together and weren´t fond of anyone who wasn´t a part of their department. Other students seemed normal enough, but when Monica once tried to speak to one of them in the toilet, Violet, a girl attending her classes, came in and pushed the girl so hard she hit the wall. Then she hissed at Monica. It was so scary Monica spent days in delusion whether it was only a dream. But the girl she tried to talk to started avoiding her in the hallway, which convinced her that the incident indeed took place in the real world.

There were no bad students in her class. Everyone had great grades. Except for her. When she barely passed the first test in Math, many evil eyes looked at her. Others got pure As. They were judging her.

Every week, another pair cleaned the classroom. Their classroom was the cleanest room in the school. She was paired with Mike. She cleaned a bit and then was ready to go home. She didn´t see what was the big deal, but Mike expressed her anger at her by hissing and waving his arms. She ran away from the classroom. She figured out that they usually stayed cleaning for hours after their lessons ended. It was absurd.

She started noticing patterns in their behavior and clothing. Girls´ and boys´ clothing matched every day. She was the only one who stood out. No one spoke in class without gaining a permission from a teacher. They lifted their hands. Everyone lifted it in the same way. After every question teacher would ask them only one person would lift a hand. She lifted hers once. She and Lucy did it in the same time, except Lucy did it graciously, delicately, while Monica simply raised hers without thinking about it. Teacher called her out and she presented the correct answer. It was the first time she noticed general anger in Lucy´s movements.

They carried all schoolbooks in their backpacks. Monica didn´t have a backpack and she carried no books because they rarely used them. They all ate sandwiches one day, yogurt and croissants another. Monica ate what she found or sometimes nothing. Except for Lucy, others never spoke outside the classroom where they´d get a permission from the authority.

When Monica mentioned this to her parents, they suggested her classmates might be on some serious drugs. But Monica wasn´t of their opinion. Her classmates were too pure for drugs of cigarettes. They were just...

Just too perfect to be real.

Even during P.E. there were no stand outs. Everyone partake in volleyball and basketball and everybody played well. Except for Monica who hated being forced to chase the ball. She seized every given opportunity to stand aside, which was not looked upon with approval. One day, teacher ordered her to enter the field. She was the goalkeeper. It was a football match. Lucy, with her glasses on even while kicking the ball, was ready to shoot at her. Monica usually avoided the ball, scared that she´d get hit. Lucy had strong legs; ball cut through the air smoothly, making a snarling noice. For no real reason, Monica decided to exit her comfort zone. She took a stand and protected her breast with her hands.

The ball hit her. She fell to the ground, hands shaking with the round object in her hands. She stopped it from entering the goal.

„Nicely done, Monica!”, teacher praised her.

She was proud of herself even if other student´s looks became gloomier than ever. What she didn´t understand was that by stopping Lucy´s ball, she really crossed the border. Nobody ever stopped the ball hit by Lucy.

During lunch break, Monica was in the toilet. She washed her sweaty face and fixed her hair. Leaving her bag on the sink, she locked herself in one of the separate cabinets. She was finishing urinating when a loud sound frightened her. Steps approached the room she was in. Banging on the door. Monica took a deep breath, put her trousers on and slowly unlocked the door...

A hand grabbed her hair and pulled her out. Monica screamed as she was pushed towards the sink. Her mouth slammed into sink. She was pulled by the hair again, this time backwards. Her spine was forcibly bent and it hurt. At last, the hand let go of her, but only in order to toss her flying until she hit the wall. Cold tiles merged with her warm skin as she glided down, lowering herself on the floor, dizzy and unable to see.

Her vision was foggy, but she saw a girl with short black hair taking her bag and pulling something from it. The vision cleared; it was her sketckbook! Alarmed by the invasion of privacy more than the attack, Monica managed to get on her feet and grad the intruder´s wrist.

Her eyes fully opened. It was Sandra.

„What the heck?”

Sandra kicked her stomach with her knee. Monica gasped and bent. The other girl hid her booty under her shirt. Before leaving, she took Monica by her collar and whispered in her ear: „If you want it back, come to the forest after school!”

Monica stayed in the toilet for the rest of the lunch break and missed the fourth lesson. When she came to herself, she looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her lip was cut and a bruise was taking shape on her forehead. When she entered the class, head bent and hair messy, nobody asked her what happened. Nobody gave her as much as a look of acknowledgment. She sat in the back where the teacher would not notice her.

Monica didn´t go straight home after school that day. She went to the forest instead. Day was coming to an end. She had never been to the forest before, so she could easily get lost if it got too dark to see. But she wasn´t planning on leaving without her sketchbook. She needed it back.

„You came.” Lucy´s voice echoed behind her. Monica hesitantly turned to face the girl. She could barely see her in the light of the dawning sun, but Lucy was still wearing sunglasses.

„Give me back my book.” While the words were getting out of her mouth, other students from her class emerged. They came from behind the trees or from the sanctuary of shadows, like creatures of the night. She noticed Sandra. She had her sketchbook in her hands.

Xavier stepped out and handed Lucy another book. Monica recognized it. It was the book she signed in the second day of the school year. Lucy opened it without checking which page it would open on. It was the one with Monica´s name. But now there wasn´t only her name and signature on it. There was also a photo of her. She looked straight in the camera. She didn´t know when was this photo taken nor how did they get it. Below it there was text divided into hints. Monica came closer. Words were closely condensed. She peeked to discern their meaning.

Born 12th March 1998

Parents cannabis dealers, living in a truck, doesn´t have a constant place of living

Enjoys drawing

Horrible student (grades D-D-D-B-B-D-C-C)

Not good at sport, often avoids ball, slow runner, bad team player

Owns a pet hamster named Raisin

Eats irregularly, doesn´t care for her health

At the end of unfavorable characterization, words written in heavy black ink stood out: Outsider. Bad for the reputation of our class. Deemed for extermination.

Monica blinked. „What does this mean?”

The answer hit her in the head. Before she fell to the ground, someone put a twine around her neck. She couldn´t breathe. She felt a burning strangling. Her hands reached behind, but she unable to get a hold of her torturer. A great force pulled her from behind. Before long, she lost conscience.

She woke up in a humid space lightened by a bunch of candles arranged in a circle around her. Her head felt like it was about to explode. On the ground in front of her lied a small furry body. Rodent´s head was roughly taken off and the neck was smashed.

It was her hamster, Raisin.

Monica screamed. When she got to her feet, she found out that she could barely walk; she staggered as if she was drunk.

„You drugged me?”, she asked although there was nobody present. „You bastards, you put something into me? Killed my hamster? And my fucking parents, if you hurt them, I swear...” Losing her balance, Monica collapsed.

After some time, the sound of walking came within her range. Lucy kneeled down beside her. „Poor thing. If only you choose another school. Or class.” She was too calm, too collected. „You see, we can not allow anyone or anything to bring disorder into our balance. You surely understand. You saw how coordinated we are, how we get along. You simply do not belong. That´s okay. It´s not your fault.”

„Let me go.” She was ready to give up her notebook. She just wanted to go home and convince herself that her parents were safe. „Please, I´ll go away, I promise.”

„Not possible”, Lucy denied with her head. „You have seen our ways, you know too much. We can not allow you to spread our secrets among others. There can only be one perfect class in the universe!”

„What are you talking about?” Monica wasn´t sure that she heard correctly, it was insane. „What secrets? I know nothing, I only thought you to be weird!”

„Too much, too much.”

Lucy reached with her hand behind her back. Monica reacted fast. She swinged her arm at her and slapped her across the face. Glasses fell off from Lucy´s face. The sound of breaking glass seemed to last for ages.

Lucy looked at Monica with her eyes wide open.

Her pupils were narrow like cat´s. White veins stretched from them continuing to protrude through the thin skin arond her eyeballs. She had no sclera, only diluted orange color turning into yellow on the edges.

Lucy hissed. „You fool! What have you done?”

Monica felt intoxicated with rage. She will not go down without a fight. With all her weight, she threw herself at Lucy. They twitched and kicked each other. Monica was gaining on her. Suddenly, she felt something in her hands. Hair! Lucy´s hair was falling off! She never stopped kicking and pulling. At some point, she pulled Lucy´s hand. It unhooked from the rest of the body with ease. Too bewildered to take notice, Monica continued fighting. She stopped only when the body below her completely stopped moving. Lucy was completely wrecked. Like an old doll´s, her limbs were scattered all around what Monica recognized now to be a cave. Her head was hairless, teeth fell out. Her skin was so thing she looked like skeleton. Terrified, Monica moved back. Lucy faced the kind of fate Monica faced in her nightmare.

Leaving dehumanized body behind, Monica found her way out of the cave. The sun was rising; she had been out the whole night! She walked for some time before she started hearing voices. As she got closer, the word they were shouting became comprehensible. It was her name.

„Oh, honey!” Her dad pulled her mother by her arm. They run together to meet with their daughter. Monica was in a sandwich hug in no time. She never felt so happy to see them.

„Where were you? We´ve been looking for you!”

A dozen or so people gathered around. Police and special inspectors were also on the case.

„I got lost”, she answered. „Mum, dad, for how long must we stay here? I don´t like my new school.”

„We´ll sign you out straight away, dear”, her father promised. She hoped he truly meant it.

They stayed for another week, but Monica didn´t attend school during this time. She asked her parents whether they´d heard about another missing girl. They knew nothing about such a thing. She looked at the newspapers, but Lucy´s name was nowhere mentioned. While her parents were away from home one day, she sneaked out. She hang out around the school, but didn´t come close enough for students to see her. But she saw them. She saw her ex-classmates. They were separated into groups of two or three. Lucy was not among them. They talked, wore different clothes, ate different food, walked differently. They seemed ordinary.

Monica left the town with her parents next Friday. The only things she regretted were the death of her hamster and losing her sketchbook.

THE END

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Written by Arijana G. aka Anachronism in October 2021